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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
1
Osceola; Or The Seminolian Captive
Five Acts By Eugene Percy, M.D.
2
- Men
- Selma, a Spanish Exile, sometime Priest, and lover of Naymoyah.
- Col. Thompson, Indian agent.
- Charley Emathla, a friendly Indian.
- Osceola, The Rising Sun, Chief Commander of the Indian Warriours.
- Miccanopy, Top Chief, or Governor of the Lake of Swans.
- Jumper, or Ote-Mathla, First in Council.
- Ostenee, son of Miccanopy, in love with Naymoyah.
- General Gaines, Commander of the Southern Troops.
- Major Dade, Commander of a Brigade.
- Indian Mico, Priest, or Prophet of his tribe who acts as Judge in the Indian Council.
- Soldiers, Indian Warriours, Officers, etc., etc., etc.
- Women
- Naymoyah, orphan daughter of a whiteman by Osceola's sister, and under his protection.
- Celuta, wife of Osceola.
Persons of the Drama
Time of the Action—the last Seminolian war in 1837.
3
Act 1.
Scene 1.
In the vicinity of the Indian Agency. Enter Selma, a Spanish exile, dressed in the garb of an Indian Chief, Sachem, or Achi-Magus.Selma
(solo)
The Sun is setting in the far-off West;
I see him beckoning to the watchful Stars
That make the heraldry of fulgent Heaven,
While on the confines of celestial space
They softly tread the downy couch of Eve—
Like fiery Cherubim all night, in love,
Watching this lower world with eyes of fire.
Enter Col. Thompson
Col. Thompson
Well, Stranger, Sachem, Priest! what is thy wish?
Selma
My soul was lifted half way up to Heaven!
Col. Thompson
Thy words betray uncommon mind. Speak on.
4
That voice reminds me of my native land.
Col. Thompson
Thy name?
Selma
My name? What matters that to thee?
Col. Thompson
Thy dress is savage though thy words are not.
Selma
My name is Selma. Priest on Coosa's banks,
From Oostanallee to the Chestatee,
Where Talapoosa rolls her mountain rills,
From old Alchota's Holy Land above,
To Ouithlacoochee's silver vale below.
Col. Thompson
Thy dress bespeaks some savage power. Art free?
Selma
I left my freedom with my enemies.
Col. Thompson
Ah! what misfortune rankles in thy soul?
Selma
A woman's infidelity. 'Tis true.
When life was filled with most ecstatic bliss
5
I wandered from old Andalusia's land,
A reckless exile—doomed on earth to roam!
Col. Thompson
But wherefore came the knowledge thou hast gained!
Selma
From that proud spirit which alone is free.
Col. Thompson
Then tear that mockery from thy bleeding heart—
Baptize thyself with spiritual fire!
Selma
And die!
Col. Thompson
Thy spirit cannot die. Thy liberty,
Not ending with this life, shall live forever!
Who can compel thy spirit? Dash away
The robe! Misfortune cannot change thy soul—
Thy heart's prerogative—will make thee free!
Selma
But I was taken captive.
Col. Thompson
When?
Selma
In war—
6
Col. Thompson
What of that? thou art
No longer captive now in peace; for thou
Wert captive, first, because of war—wert then
An enemy—captivity has ceased
Since with thine enemy's freedom; thou art
Captive else against thine own decree—'gainst
Nation's laws, wherewith thou art of Heaven—
And God's right hand will free thee! Doff the robe!
Selma
And die before another night?
Col. Thompson
No live!
For who will kill thee!
Selma
Miccanopy's Tribe,
And Osceola, he who dwells afar
In Ouithlacoochee's Vale.
Col. Thompson
No—thou shalt live!
Selma
(aside)
Naymoyah, then, will see my face no more!
Col. Thompson
(overhearing him)
7
Tear out thy heartstrings first—forsake the thought!
Let Passion envy not thy Virtue, fool!
If thou art free—white-born—retract the vow!
Thy nature should be noble! Tear it off!
Cast down the savage garb! Thy name shall live!
The good man never dies! his spirit lives
Where thine shall garner thee eternal bliss!
What savage wildness bursts upon thy soul?
Selma
(throwing off the robe)
There is but one unfathomable gulf—
Of Solitude where Sorrow reigns alone;
A Wilderness wherein no blossoms grow;
A Winter always coldest to itself—
A blasted human heart!
Col. Thompson
By Heavens! he weeps!
(Violent yellings are heard at a distance. Selma snatches up the robe).
Dash down the savage robe in spite of death!
Selma
Gods! Miccanopy's men are near us now!
Col. Thompson
8
But that great Being who resides on high,
And he will save you from the savage foe.
(Yellings renew.)
What is the purport of those savage yells?
Selma
The Celebration of the Indian Chase.
(Naymoyah enters rushing into Selma's arms)
Naymoyah
Oh! white-winged Eagle! Swan upon the hills!
Remember that Naymoyah's soul is white!
The gentle Fawn, that knows the Valley-paths,
Will seek her Roe-buck on her native hills!
Selma
See how she flings her white arms round my neck,
Till every thought swings blind with ecstasy,
As if some Planet wandered from its sphere.
To feed, with holier light, the Sun's eclipse!
Now listen how her words drop from her tongue,
Like golden honey from the parted comb—
Making me value them by what they cost!
Col. Thompson
Thy fate is sealed forever!
Selma
9
Look up, Naymoyah! see me for the last!
For thou wilt go to bed tonight, sweet one!
And wake up at the morrow morn alone,
For I will not be there!
Naymoyah
Not there? these feet
Will follow to where the sun goes down!
Oh! where will Selma go? where will he go?
Say, white-winged Eagle! shall Naymoyah die?
(She kneels).
Col. Thompson
Nay, peace, young Indian! get thee home again!
Away! another happier home is ours.
(Exeunt Selma and Col. Thompson)
Naymoyah
Is Selma gone? What Pale-face Fiend is this
That tears my Selma from my soul? Oh! God!
Would that the Turtle knew the Hawk was nigh!
For he will bring back blood upon his wings!
But let him come—these hands shall wipe it off,
And he shall see how white's Naymoyah's soul!
Rejoice, young Eagle! we shall meet again.
(Exit)
Scene II
10
Charley Emathla
Great Agent! why does Miccanopy hate
The White-man so? His iron heart is big
With vengeance for the White-man's blood!
Col. Thompson
His blood?
Charley Emathla
Yes—they have raised the war-whoop on the hills,
And swear eternal vengeance on the whites!
Col. Thompson
Who heads the Warriours in this vile revolt?
Charley Emathla
The bravest Tustenuggee of his Tribe;
The Boy that looks so lofty as he walks—
Who speaks more by his actions than his words—
Says very little to the White-man's face—
But hates him most the more he seems to love.
Col. Thompson
What! Osceola?
Charley Emathla
Yes—the Rising Sun—
11
Col. Thompson
But know you that the villian has been false,
And that his treachery leads to open war?
Charley Emathla
I know that Osceola hates the whites,
And that some white men have been killed by his.
Col. Thompson
Then shall the savage villian feel my power!
Bring forth the Soldiers of the Guard! Come forth!
(Enter Soldiers)
Search the wild desert of the boundless woods,
And bring me Osceola—bring him chained!
Then shall he learn the duty that he owes,
The White-men who have always been his friends.
(Exit Guard)
Now, Charley, that the hostile Chiefs may know
The duty that is due the White-man's law,
I charge you, at the peril of your life,
To summon him to Council in an hour.
Charley Emathla
It shall be done.
Col. Thompson
Away! it must be done
(Exeunt)
12
Scene III
(Naymoyah is discovered sitting on a moss-covered rock in the desert weeping. Enter Ostenee).Ostenee
(softly)
Naymoyah!
Naymoyah
(rising)
Ostenee! What of the Chase?
Ostenee
The Chase is over, but the Wardance has Begun.
Naymoyah
Who did the mighty chiefs decide
Should have the Forest Queen?
Ostenee
Thou seest the man—
The Eagle—Son of Miccanopy—he
Who loves thee better than he does his life—
Who grew up with thee in the forest caves—
Making his first tracks in the sand with thee.
Thou wilt remember, in an evil hour,
When the lank wolf was howling on the coast,
That, being overtaken by the Night,
While wandering all alone amid the caves,
Whose feathery blades made music in the winds,
Responsive to the wolf's obstreperous howl,
13
A furious Tiger, maddened by the Chase,
Grinned horribly in thy love-beaming eyes,
And, crouching closely to the earth, had torn
Thy lovely form in pieces had not this arm
Then laid him lifeless, bleeding at thy feet!
Naymoyah
So thou hast won the hand of this fair Queen?
Ostenee
I have.
Naymoyah
Then tell me who is this fair Queen?
Ostenee
The same that Ostenee saved from the paws
Of that damned Tiger
Naymoyah
Ah! sayst thou so?
Ostenee
And all the mighty chiefs have said the same.
Nor thy brave Ostenee, thy Warriour, comes
To bend the knee that never bent before,
And, bending now in vain, shall never bend
Again!
Naymoyah
14
Ostenee
What! shall the lips that have been taught
To utter nothing but the truth, scorn now
The wisdom of the mightiest Chiefs?
Naymoyah
'Tis said.
Ostenee
By Hell! the Pale-face who has taught thee this,
To hate the Red-man so—shall not live long!
Call back the bitter words, that thou hast said,
Or, ere the sun shall set, his scalp shall be
Entwined in clots of blood around thy neck!
Call back the Words again!
Naymoyah
Peace! peace, young man!
For thou art calling down upon thy head
The wrath of Him who never sleeps—the God
Who rules Areskou easier than your power
Can make Naymoyah what she would not be!
All that is Indian in me thou mayst love.
The White-man's part—the part thou wouldst not have—
Is all that makes Naymoyah what she is.
Ostenee
15
Ye poisonous Serpents of the crowned Hills!
Crawl round the Eden of her heavenly limbs,
And, as ye press the life-blood from her heart,
Oh! sting her spirit, that ye scare away,
With everlasting death!
Naymoyah
Begone, foul Fiend
And never let me see thy face again!
(Exit)
Ostenee
Go! get thee to the Council in an hour!
For when the Chickaconee comes to sound
The Banqueting of Souls, thou shalt behold
The blazing fire round thy Selma's form,
Bear off his Dove-like spirit to the stars!
No! Ostenee can never let him live!
(Exit)
Scene IV
(The Council House. Col. Thompson, the Head Man of the Agency, in his seat. Enter Charley Emathla, followed by the Chiefs of the Nation, who arrange themselves on the seats around the Agent. Enter Osceola chained, followed by the Guard).Col. Thompson
16
In comfort with the White-man near? The land
He lives upon does not belong to him;
But it was ceded to the Whites by Spain.
Then why does Osceola thirst for blood?
Why not now ratify the treaty made
By Tuckasee Emathla, Chief of all
The great men of the Nation, long ago?
These questions shall be answered by the Chiefs
Who raised this mutiny among his Tribe.
Osceola
(rising)
What! shall this mighty spirit stoop to speak,
As chainless as the freedom of the sea,
And bound by mortal power? I will not speak!
My hands are chained!
Col. Thompson
They are—nor shall be loosed
Until you sign the Treaty made at old
Fort Gipson by the great men of your tribe.
Miccanopy
(rising)
An hundred summers of perpetual peace have rolled in glory over Miccanopy's head, making his green heart flourish like the mighty Oak that ripens in the woods. An hundred Winters, too, have
17
Col. Thompson
Will Osceola sign the Treaty now?
Miccanopy
(taking Osceola aside)
Yes, sign it with your hand, but not your heart!
(Aloud)
Oh! yes—the Treaty shall be signed!
Col. Thompson
Well said.
Unchain his hands. The Talk may now go on.
(The Soldiers unchain his hands)
Now, Osceola, if you have one word
To say, speak as the White-man's friend. Proceed.
Osceola
The hail of a thousand winters had fallen upon the Oak, but still it was the Monarch of the woods. It lifted up its mighty arms to Heaven, forgetful of the Lightning's blast, the Thunder's
18
19
Jumper
(rising)
The Bee that has gathered honey from the lowland Honeysuckle knows where to find that tender flower again. But if that flower should be taken away, it would have to seek for honey among strange flowers. The same way with us. If we should go into a strange land, we should not know where to find our food. The milk of a thousand hills has nourished me from youth. The hills are the breasts of my mother, the Earth. If you take the child away from its mother, it will die.
Col. Thompson
Is Osceola reconciled to go?
Osceola
If my lips were to utter what my heart does not feel, the honor of my heart would give the utterance of my lips the lie. I am a Red-Man, but my soul is white. A drop of water to a blind man's lips will taste as sweet as to one who can see. But if the White-Man give him gall to drink, will that taste sweet as sweetness from the Red-Man's hands. Oh! Oh! that the
20
Miccanopy
(taking Osceola aside)
The Tommahawk, that has been buried now a hundred years, shall be dug up again from rusting underneath the Tree of Peace. Then, after it is polished of its rust, it shall be buried in the White-Man's heart!
Col. Thompson
Will Osceola sign the treaty now?
Osceola
Oh! yes—the Treaty shall be signed.
Col. Thompson
Well said
Then take the paper—let him sign his name.
(They take the paper, hand it to him to sign, when he takes his dagger from his belt and stabs
21
Osceola
(exultingly)
This is the way that Osceola signs his name!
Col. Thompson
The Council may be broken up. Tomorrow we shall meet again.
Miccanopy
(aside to Osceola)
Now, as we part, look in his face and smile. The Lion steps the softest just before he kills the Fawn. Then shake him by the hand and smile. The Day must pass—the night will come. Remember what thy Chief has said. The Watchfire shall not blaze in vain!
Osceola
Let icy words hang on thy lips, even while the fires of Hell burn in thy heart!
(Miccanopy, Osceola, and Jumper shake hands with the Agent, then quit the Council, followed by all the rest, except Charley Emathla and Selma).
Col. Thompson
Saw you the scorn that sat enthroned upon his brow, writhing in frowns like lightning in some thunder cloud? That look betrayed determination.
22
Decision sat enthroned upon his brow
In awful dignity. Upon his lips
A writhing scorn triumphant played, as if
In concert with an agony within,
That restless grew for something to devour.
He is the Shadow of some mighty God—
Nay, if the very Gods were on the earth,
They would not look more like themselves, than is
This Seminolean Chief! Behold! they come!
(Violent yellings are heard from without. Reenter Osceola and Miccanopy with guns.)
Osceola
(to Col. Thompson)
Rejoice! for thou shalt die tonight! The Dead came to me in their winding sheets, last night, and said, The Calumet of Peace is gone! The Tommahawk is now dug up again! Rise up, my Osceola! and avenge my wrongs! I rose. The pale face of my murdered friend stood at the door. Speak not! The door of Hell shall be unlocked! The White-man will not chain me then! The hands that thou didst chain a few short hours ago, shall drag thee to the Desert, where the Wolf shall fatten on thy carcass, and the hungry Vulture peck thine eyes!
23
Miccanopy
(stepping up to Selma)
Ha! Miccanopy's boy. By yonder Big Light in the sky! thy soul shall dwell among the Stars tonight! Away! the Indian's Council shall decide thy fate!
(Exit Miccanopy bearing off Selma)
Osceola
(walking up to Charley Emathla)
Oh! thou dead Dog! who had the White-man's
heart, but wore the Indian's garb! I will
not stamp upon thee with my foot—for thou
art on the White-man's earth! I will not
honour thee with any thing but death—and
that thou hast! Thou art upon the cold earth
now, that was not colder than thy heart!
The Indian spurns thee as he would the faithless
dog! (Waling up to Col. Thompson).
But thou who hadst the Red-Man chained—who
caged the mightiest Eagle ever born on earth—
I tread upon thee—crush thee to the earth
that thou didst love!—for thou shalt perish
where the cattle tread—thy bones and all thy
24
(Exit as the curtain falls)
Act II
Scene I
(Osceola's cottage at a distance. Enter Osceola thoughtfully).Osceola
Eternal Sun! thou father of the Stars,
And husband of the Moon! I look upon
Thy majesty as on the face of God!
Thy glory fills the universe with light!
Thy presence turns the darkness into day!
When thou art in the Heavens, the earth looks glad!
The birds begin to sing—the ocean smiles—
The rivers laugh in song—the woods resound with melody!
The iron Oak lifts up its silver-shafted arms
To catch thy beams, as does some boy to drink
His father's smiles! The Spring, at thy beloved
Approach, lays down her carpet of rich green,
Spangled with million flowers of every hue,
Striped with the silver streams that wind along.
Among the tasseled Reed-Isles to the Sea!
Even Heaven looks happier gazing on thy face!
25
With golden armor—sent thy thunder-trump
To muster up thy bannered host afar through Heaven!
So shall my voice, from out my native Hills,
Gather my mighty squadrons on the field
For Battle.
(Enter Celuta from the cottage)
Where is Naymoyah now?
Celuta
Oh! ask me not, great Chief! the Eagle-Son
Of Miccanopy loves her well!
Osceola
He does.
The Hawk is on the wing; he will not spare
The Dove. When did you see her last?
Celuta
Last night
With Ostenee.
Osceola
Then she has sought his arms
To save her Selma's life. The Lake of Swans
Can show no whiter bred than she. But will
The Lightning spare the pine because its boughs
Moan in the winds?
26
No, no, great Chief! But then
They say that Selma shall be burned tonight!
Osceola
The Seminolean Eagle said not so.
Celuta
But if he is released, will she not go?
And if Naymoyah go, this heart must break!
Celuta loves Naymoyah well! Say, will
She go?
Osceola
No—as the grape-vine clings around
The flowery Birch, so shall her arms take hold
Of thee. She has not left Celuta yet.
Celuta
Then let her fly with him—fly with her love—
And, in the sinless Solitudes lie down,
Till they can walk the rosy paths in peace.
Osceola
You know the world is dark without the Sun;
But it would be all day compared with her
Without her heavenly Selma's love. But hark!!
I hear young footsteps on the hills! She comes!
Behold! Naymoyah comes!
27
She does! She does!
The Silver Swan comes to her Lake again!
(Enter Naymoyah. They embrace)
Swim on the bosom of Celuta's love,
And let her soul grow white to image back
Thy form!
Osceola
Naymoyah, Why art thou shedding tears?
Naymoyah
Oh! father! they have killed Naymoyah's love!
Where is my Selma? When is he to die?
Osceola
Tonight, at Banqueting of souls!
Naymoyah
Tonight!
Oh! father! let him not be burned tonight!
Celuta
No, Osceola! save Naymoyah's love.
Osceola
Fond daughter! he is Miccanopy's foe!
And Osceola would not have him false!
My child! I do not like those tears! Away!
Naymoyah
28
I saw the great High Spirit, in my dreams,
Walking upon thick clouds with eyes of fire!
And, as he passed, he seemed to say to me,
The very light that shines upon you now,
Shall roll but fifty times through Heaven, when all
In Ouithlacoochee's Vale shall pass away!
Osceola
Go, gentle daughter! get thee home again.
(Exeunt Naymoyah and Celuta into the cottage).
That dream has told me what my own soul knows.
But what the eyes of that fair child have seen,
That Osceola's soul shall never see!
The Earth cannot despise the mighty Sun,
Because his face is hidden by dark clouds;
Nor is the soul of Osceola less
The son of Outalissa, now its light
Is rising on the world to set in blood!
(Exit)
Scene II
(The Indian Council. Enter Selma guarded by Ostenee).Miccanopy
(rising)
When Osceola's father lived, he had
A daughter whom he loved above all things;
29
One day, when he was gone, the White-Man came,
And throwing in the lake some Pearls of Love
He brought with him, he won her heart—she fled—
And, from that fatal hour, was never seen!
The Chief of Cuscovilla's Vale returned.
He visited the Fountain of Green Isles,
But she was gone—gone to return no more!
And when he prayed to Micabou, the God
Of Waters, to restore him back his child,
He said the Wakon-bird had killed his Dove,
And borne her spirit to the Land of Souls!
The flower of Cuscovilla's Vale was gone!
And he who talked like Outalissa's son,
Mustered his mighty host upon the hills,
And laid the tall heads of his warriours low!
Just so has Selma served Naymoyah's love!
Now, Sachems, Warriours, listen to my voice!
Before three Moons shall roll away in Heaven,
The snorting Warhorse will be seen upon
Our hills, trampling the desert flowers to earth!
Before Manitou, who now rules the world,
This Concha Shell shall prove the only sign
Of what I wish—that he shall die tonight!
30
Jumper
(rising)
The Pale-face comes to call his brother—has
The Roe-buck cut upon his thigh—throws off
The robe that made him Priest of all our Tribe—
Deceives us—leaves our homes—joins with the whites—
Betrays his love—is caught again—now stands
Up here to hear the sentence of his death!
Then, by the Power that makes us what we are,
Let him be burned tonight!
(Enter Naymoyah falling in Selma's arms)
Naymoyah
Oh! Selma! love!
Hast thou not done Naymoyah wrong? Speak, love!
Oh! speak! for well she loves her darling's life
Without the which her own must cease to be!
The Indian Mico (rising to pronounce sentence)
.
Young Selma! listen to my voice!
Naymoyah
Hold! hold!
Stay the bold Eagle in his flight to Heaven!
As well may ye attempt to curb me now!
For if you touch one hair upon his head,
The Seminolian falls to rise no more!
31
That she will tinge the waters with her blood?
I tell you that the Spirit, Selma says
Is God, came to me in my dream last night,
And said, Naymoyah! tell this to thy tribe;
The very light that shines upon you now.
Shall roll but fifty times through Heaven, when all
In Ouithlacoochee's Vale shall pass away!
(Enter Osceola in haste)
Osceola
What is the matter here? Why is this noise
Among the Chiefs, that should keep silence? Speak!
Heard you the thunder of the White-man's host
Upon the hills? Why are ye sitting here?
Before me, in the visions of the night,
Went the tall Warhouse through the Indians' camp,
Lifting his trumpet-nostrils in the air, with feet
Dabbling in blood! Heard ye no sound? Then hear!
The fiery World, from her infernal depths,
Seemed to disgorge the nostrils of her wrath!
Oh! Warriours! if ye have not lost your souls,
Why do ye tarry here? Do ye not know
Ye cannot sentence any man to death
Upon the night of Banqueting of Souls?
32
For, lo! the Seminolian's hour is nigh!
Mico
Great Chiefs! What Osceola says is true.
We cannot sentence any man to death
Upon the night of Banqueting of Souls.
It is against our custom—cannot be.
Miccanopy
What! has it come to this? no laws, no rights—
Except the one that sets the White-man free?
No, by the gods! he shall die tonight!
Osceola
No, let thy son, the Eagle-Ostenee,
Who hates him as he loves Naymoyah's life,
Watch by him till he is condemned to die.
Miccanopy
It may be so. Confine him, Ostenee,
Between two upright posts set in the ground,
And guard him well! (To Naymoyah)
You, prophetess of lies,
Have spoken of the Seminolian's fall!
Before the Tribe of Miccanopy falls,
The Boy, that made thee tell me so, shall die!
Away! she is the bride of Ostenee!
33
Osceola
(to Miccanopy)
Brave Warriour! had we not sworn so oft
To link our hearts against the common foe,
Mine had not suffered thee to taunt her so!
But we are bound to be united now.
To separate would only crush our hopes.
But now no more until the war is done.
Miccanopy
Then we shall have no more to talk about.
(Exeunt omnes)
Scene III
(In the forest. Moonlight. Osceola's cottage in the background. Enter Naymoyah).Naymoyah
(kneeling)
Oh! thou bright Daughter of the glorious Sun!
Have ye no Selma in the Realms of Light,
In whose bright presence ye can bask in joy?
Oh! if ye have, descend upon me now,
And from that Land, where Selma says is God,
Bring me some tokens of his dying love,
And let my spirit be at rest once more!
I know that he must stand, ere long, before
34
And there give out his dying soul to Heaven!
Oh! thou fair Moon! whose beauty is the light
Of his fair smiles, but tell me that he lives,
And he shall meet me in thy hallowed beams,
Purer than when he left me by the day!
And if, tomorrow, he shall come again,
Oh! let thy vigils teach me how to wait!
I go—thine eyes are weeping on me now!
My locks are wet—my tears are mixed with thine—
And all the Stars seem mourning for me now!
Bright Angel! Keep Naymoyah's soul tonight!
(Enter Osceola) Osceola
My daughter! though you see me as I am,
Full of the torments of revenge—there is
A little drop of goodness in my heart.
There are, upon the one side, frozen tears,
And, on the other, fires as hot as Hell!
It must be so—there is no other hope!
Shall he who braved the elements of Heaven—
Who walked for forty Summers in the storms,
And passed as many Winters in the wars—
Treading the footsteps of his mighty God
Walking in thunders through the clouds, unscared—
35
Above his children—while the slave, who sings
His Corn-Song, walks upon his father's bones
No! Never shall the Red-Man come to this,
While this proud heart within my bosom beats,
And knows that it is Osceola's heart!
Naymoyah
Why does the White-Man hate the Indian so?
Osceola
None but the great High-Spirit knows! No one,
But God, can tell why they disturb us so!
They envy even the very air we breathe!
They come like Simighan, thy father did,
To rob the Indian of his native land!
Naymoyah
But art thou not my father? Say thou art!
Thou hast been more than father unto me—
Watching me like the Roe-Buck does the Fawn
Cropping the languid blades of cane at even.
Osceola
I love thee, sweet Naymoyah! love thee well!
Have loved thee from the hour that thou wert brought
An Orphan to my Cabin door! But know—
A Spaniard was thy father.
36
Say not so!
But if it be as thou hast said it is,
Oh, tell me what they called my father's name?
Osceola
The Angels call him Lopez—but the name
Thy mother called him by, was Simighan.
Naymoyah
Ah! Simighan? What Angel tells my soul
That I have often heard that name before?
Was it not Selma told me so? It was.
A faint remembrance of that blessed name
Steals on my soul like Day does on the Dawn—
Melting the East to light!
Osceola
I knew when first
Thy mother clung around thy father's neck.
Naymoyah
Then tell me what became of those dear ones
Whose bosoms pillowed me in infancy?
Osceola
Ah! they are gone, gone, gone, alas! to meet
The Big Light's Father in the Land of Souls!
Thy father fell by Outalissa's hand!
37
Naymoyah
'Tis true for Osceola tells me so.
And now my heart gives echo to the truth!
Osceola
I saw the White-Man's blood upon thy cheek,
And could have slain thee in thine infant sleep;
But chose to save thee as mine own, to show
The Pale-Face how the Indian's heart can love.
Naymoyah
Thou wert my father—be so to me now
And, while they call me Osceola's child,
Oh! save my Selma from the foe tonight!
Osceola
Fond daughter! listen to your father's voice!
There is but one way you can save his life;
And, missing that, he is forever lost!
That way shall now be pointed out to thee.
But, daughter! should it ever more be known
That Osceola pointed thee that way,
A Legion of foul fiends would have me bound,
And bury me, amid their shouts, in fire!
Then take this dagger—hide it in thy belt—
Go where your lover lies bound to the stake—
38
And save thy Selma's life! Away!
Naymoyah
I go!
By yonder fair Moon in the Heavens, he dies!
(Exit).
Osceola
She shall be happy if I cannot be
It is for this that Osceola lives,
And means to lose the last drop in his heart.
(Exit)
Scene IV
(Selma is discovered bound fast to a post— Ostenee asleep on the ground by the fire).Selma
I do not heed these savage fools! one hand
Alone shall guide me through this gloom—'tis God's!
For though they drain the life blood from my heart,
They cannot kill my soul—it is immortal!
Nor will I swerve my conscious innocence
For that poor, paltry recompence, called life.
And though my spirit's efforts fail me here
As some dear friend that would, but cannot, save—
I still will put my trust in God above!
(After a pause)
How mournful are these beatings of my heart—
39
When all shall be together hushed in one
Eternal silence, deeper than the grave!
(Enter Naymoyah cautiously).
Naymoyah
Oh! thou great Spirit of the Land of Souls!
My soul first offered up itself to Thee,
As spotless as Thine own in pious prayer!
As thou wert then, most merciful to me,
Hear now, the soft petitions of thy child,
Who, by thine unseen hand, has thus been led
To be the Saviour of my Selma's life!
Bright Daughter of the everlasting Sun!
Look down upon me in this trying hour,
And give me courage in this faint resolve,
To execute the sentence of his death!
Let not the White-Man, that is in my soul,
But make the Indian strike the fatal blow—
Making the darker do the darker deed!
(She takes out her dagger and walks cautiously up towards Ostenee).
Selma
Oh! God! Naymoyah!
Naymoyah
40
Selma
Be still! Why did you come?
Naymoyah
To save thy life!
How could Naymoyah see her Selma die?
Selma
Oh! God! were Ostenee to wake, we both
Would die!
Naymoyah
But he shall never wake!
Selma
Be still!
Naymoyah
I knew the peril of this perilous hour;
But, love being stronger than my fear of death,
I come to rescue thee, or die!
Selma
Oh! God!
Naymoyah
Now then, this blow—deep as my love for thee—
Selma
Hold! hold thy hand! he sleeps!
Naymoyah
41
Then let him sleep! I will unbind thy hands!
(She unbinds his hands)
Now Selma knows Naymoyah's soul is white.
Selma
I do! (Embraces her).
Naymoyah
Rejoice! for thou art free again!
Selma
I do—I do—made happy by thy love!
(Ostenee wakes, springs on his feet and, thinking her an evil spirit, exclaims,)
Matchi Manitou! help, Areskou! help!
Naymoyah
(raising her dagger)
Areskou! God of Battle! he is here!
He comes to take thy life! (To Selma)
Away!
they come! (Exeunt)
(Enter Warriours, who exclaim, with astonishment, on seeing Ostenee petrified, as it were, with fear,)
What! has Manitou laid his spirit low?
(The Curtain falls)
End of Act Second
42
Act III
Scene I.
(In front of Osceola's Cottage. Enter Selma and Naymoyah).Selma
Now do mine eyes behold all that my soul
Hath ever pictured to me in my dreams
Of infinite Perfection, in thy form
Of Angel beauty, whom my dying friend,
In the last moments of his parting soul,
Bade me remember.
Naymoyah
Selma! tell me all.
Selma
I must tell all, child of my lost friend,
The generous Simighan,
Naymoyah
Was he thy friend,
And my dear father too?
Selma
He was, my love!
Come let me look into thy face again!
A solemn dignity sits on thy brow,
As if thou wert confirmed of their silent hour
Thou Heaven-born child! 'Tis if thou wert
43
When thoughts of Heaven, inhabited by Love,
Formed in the soul—gathering to our sweet Star—
That Star thyself—thou Queen of all on earth!
Why was my soul so much obscured by doubt,
That all thy heavenly loveliness could not
Be taken in at one sweet draught? Oh! love!
If ever Beauty mirrored back, in truth,
The likeness of her parentage, thou art,
Indeed, the child of my lost friend in Heaven—
The generous Simighan!
Naymoyah
Ah! that is true,
For Osceola told me so. How kind!
But what was equal to my mother's love?
She who first pillowed me upon her breast,
There, while the soft-tongued music of the winds,
Lulled me to sleep among the camp.
Oh! how my soul could love her, did she live,
Seeing it loves her so now she is dead!
Selma
Now, fond Naymoyah! let me drink again
The balmy nectar of thy rubiate lips.
Thy beauty grows upon me like the light
44
Though waxing, never becomes fully full.
A woman who hath purity within,
Can find protection any where on earth;
For while it superior finds her, it makes
A majesty of gentleness.
Naymoyah
Most true.
But let us fly—we must not tarry here—
And seek protection in the White-Man's camp.
Selma
Let not thy love, which makes this hour of all
My life the sweetest to my soul, reveal
To any one the Mystery of our fate.
(Yells without).
Hark! Miccanopy comes!
Naymoyah
We are betrayed!
Selma
Be not alarmed, but take this dagger.
(She takes it).
Naymoyah
I am not strong in body, but in mind
I tell thee, there is not, in all this world,
A nobler, larger soul!
Selma
45
Naymoyah
He dies!
Enter Osceola
Osceola
Be not alarmed, young Eagle! thou art free!
The tender feet that followed thee to where
The frightened warriour left thee, are the ones
That Osceola learned to walk. The arms
That clung around thee, like the vine around
The giant oak, were taught to do so by
The gentle grasp of Osceola's hand.
The blood that circles through thy veins, is not
The Red-Man's blood—therefore, the Red-Man will
Not trust the White-Man with his secret talk.
Therefore, you must not leave the Indian's camp.
Naymoyah
We will not go—but both remain with you.
Osceola
Let Osceola hear it from his lips.
Selma
It shall be so.
Osceola
Then listen to my voice;
46
By Osceola. She who grasps thy hand,
Whose tender infancy was cradled in
The wind-rocked branches of the flowery beach—
Has neither father, mother—none but thee
And Osceola. Press her to thy heart,
For Simighan is dead!
Selma
Yes, he is dead.
But whose foul hand was base enough to slay
That generous man? Oh! God! he was my friend!
Osceola
My father slew him!—Outalissa, son
Of Miscou, Chief in Cuscovilla's Vale,
Where rolls the mighty river of Mobile! (To Naymoyah)
And she who died to see thy father die,
Was Outalissa's child. Thy mother, dead,
Was Osceola's sister.
Naymoyah
Hear it, Heaven.
And watch above Naymoyah while she hears!
Osceola
She was the Virgin of the first fond love,
Whom Simighan, the young Castillian stole—
47
The blood of Outalissa was not dark.
I, therefore, have some White-Man in my soul.
Naymoyah
If father fell by Outalissa's hand,
My mother's father—then, by him she fell—
My mother dying to see my father die!
Osceola
Rejoice, young Virgin of the Lake of Swans!
Thy mother died to see thy father die!
Naymoyah
How many Moons have passed since I was born?
Osceola
Just sixteen fallings of the leaf. Farewell!
(Exit)
Selma
Naymoyah! thou didst hear that warriour say
That Outalissa killed poor Simighan!
But what were his last dying words to me?
These—save my Endea from the savage foe,
And after she is saved, revenge my death!
Now then, shall he who owes his life to this,
Forget the promise that he made to him?
No! for the Seminolian's hour is nigh.
A bodiless soul came to my bed last night.
48
Remember, Selma, to avenge my death!
The faithless shall receive no joy in heaven!
Then, for the sake of my dear Endea, let
Swift vengeance fall upon the Indian's head!
By all the ties that bind me to the world!
As well as those that bind me to the dead!
I swear to dedicate my life to thee!
Naymoyah
But why should Grief go hand in hand with Joy?
The mantle of my birth is lifted up;
But who shall lift the Future Vail that hides
Eternity from mortal sight?
Selma
I will!
I will interpret all thy dreams for thee.
(Exeunt).
Scene II
(Miccanopy's cottage. Enter Miccanopy to Ostenee).Miccanopy
Where is the traitor? Show me where he is!
Brave coward! Miccanopy hates thee now!
Ostenee
Hold, father! thou hast stung me to the heart!
Miccanopy
49
False, like the Serpent that is numbed with cold,
Stinging the hand that brings it to the fire!
So thou hast bitten him who gave thee life!
Thou art no longer Miccanopy's son!
Thy father hates thee as he does black Hell!
Ostenee
Wert thou to send thine arrows through my heart,
The wound would be less mortal than thy words!
Miccanopy
May the deep festering wound be never healed!
The Eagle never roosts with meaner birds—
He has no friendship for the Coward Hawk
That sits all day upon the high tree top,
Watching his glory with an envious eye.
Thy father rends thee, henceforth, from his heart!
Ostenee
I tell thee, father, fearless as thou art,
Thy fiery heart had frozen to coldest ice,
Hadst thou but seen what I beheld.
Miccanopy
Away! or Miccanopy has no son!
Ostenee
No, let me fight by Osceola's side,
50
Or, let me lie down in the Lion's den;
Or, suffer five long Moons of banishment;
Or, die ten thousand other living deaths,
So that the coward Ostenee can have
The brave old Miccanopy's love again.
Miccanopy
Then take this dagger—Miccanopy's hand
Did use it long before thy birth! 'tis sure!
And never fails against the White-Man's heart!
And when Naymoyah looks upon thy face,
Bid her remember that when winter comes,
The Wild Rose cannot blossom on its own stalk,
But must be grafted on the Indian Stem.
Bring back that traitor or his head! Away!
Or Miccanopy's curse be on thy soul!
(Exeunt).
Scene III
(The Forest, Osceola's cottage in the distance. Enter Selma meeting Ostenee).Ostenee
Rejoice, young boy! thine hour is come to die!
Thy soul shall dwell among the stars tonight,
The Fawn that meets the Lion in his path,
Expects no favors but the quietest death!
51
And send thee to the River of the Dead!
Therefore, prepare to match me in the fight!
For know, the Virgin of the first fond love,
Who loves her Selma as she does her life—
Lay on the bosom of my soul last night.
Selma
Base liar! say that dangerous lie again,
And this bare hand shall smite thee down to Hell!
Base dog! she sought thee only for my life!
Ostenee
Thy life! she sought me for her own—my love.
With this right hand I smoothed her raven locks,
While with her eyes she talked to me of love—
Whispering for more than her sweet tongue could say.
Selma
No! that Angelic look was fiercer far
Than Hell to thy damned soul! Come on!
Ostenee
I come!
(They fight desperately for some time. Enter Naymoyah).
Naymoyah
Hold, warriour! hold! Naymoyah comes to save!
(She stabs Ostenee in the back and he falls).
52
Matchi! Manitou! help, Naymoyah! help!
(Dies).
(Curtain falls)
End of Act Third
Act IV
Scene I
(Osceola's cottage. Enter Selma meeting Naymoyah).Selma
The day begins to dawn. The sun is up,
Gilding the purple dapple of the dawn
With light bright as the world's first morn when God
Came down to walk with Man in Paradise,
And caught the coyness of his fresh-lipped youths
Hiding among the flowers. The Night is gone.
While, on the topmost peak of yon high hill,
I see the russet Fawn stamping the flowers—
His trumpet-nostrils lifted high in air
Above the flexile taper of his neck
So lithe, as if to catch the faintest breeze
That wantons by—eyeing the Hunter in
The Vale below—telling his sister they
Must flee away.
Naymoyah
Telling us too, to fly
53
Her young are famishing for food!
Selma
Most true!
But then the storm that rends the towering Oak,
Chariots the turtle to her native nest.
The fiery bolt that rends the mountain Rock,
Remakes the beauty of the tendrest flower.
Then let us wrestle with the storms of Fate,
Like Jacob with his Angel all the night.
And rise up from the labor with the strength
Of an immortal.
Naymoyah
Would to God we could.
The truths are hallowed coming from thy lips
But were thy lips to utter falsehoods now,
Thy former truths would discover them all.
Selma
Then let thy Selma council thee to shun
The false temptations of that wicked man.
Naymoyah
Who? Osceola?
Selma
He—as false as Hell!
54
Naymoyah
Thank God for that!
(Exeunt).
Scene II
(Tampa Bay. Martial music heard without. Enter Soldiers under the command of Major Dade).Major Dade
Soldiers! You know the object of this march;
It is to guard this country from the foe—
To save the helpless—succor the distrest.
Impelled by justice for the injured dead,
Let us be vigilant to meet them now—
Our watchword being, Victory or death!
On-on, brave warriours! for the battle-field!
(Exeunt omnes.)
Scene III
(Osceola's cottage in the distance. Enter Osceola meeting Selma).Selma
Great Chief! the Seminolian's hour is nigh!
Osceola
Why say you so? Then let it come. There is
No terror in that warning now for me!
I love the grandeur of my native Hills—
55
Whirlwinds sweeping down the giant Oaks;
For they have been companions from my youth.
Selma
Nay, curb this hostile madness of thy heart—
They will reward thee with a better home.
Osceola
What profit will that be to him who does
Not wish a better one? Oh! foolish man!
You little know what feasts the Indian's soul!
Then, afterwards, call Osceola murderer.
Telling their children, after they have learned
To know what Osceola means, that here,
Or there, or somewhere else, he cut their throats!
Oh! how the White-man's tongue will tell them lies!
These mighty thoughts have rushed across my soul,
Like whirlwinds through the forest cane on fire—
Bearing their crackling cenders up to Heaven!
I see before me what will be our fate!
I see the dark cloud parted by the Storm,
While through the rent comes down the fiery rain
To blast the flowery earth beneath my feet!
Selma
But you will be rewarded for all this.
56
Ah! what will pay me for the loss of home?
Selma
Why, money.
Osceola
Money! money! what is that?
A little shining pale-face stuff that lies
By promising that which it cannot buy!
It cannot buy you friends that have been slain!
Nor can it make the simplest thing on earth!
Then what is it to all those joyful streams
That fit the tongue for music like their own?
Or, what is it beneath the moaning Pine
To him who has been hunted by the foe,
And needs the cool refreshment of the shade!
What is it to those old familiar Oaks
Of my acquaintance on my native hills?
A thousand mountains of pure gold could not
Purchase from me one of my children's graves.
For what would all these mountains profit me
If dying for one drop of water? Naught.
When, if but one small stream gushing by,
It would be worth more than their weight in gold.
Then, who would help the mountain after that,
57
I tell thee that the thing called money, is
Not what it seems to be. It cannot make
The cooling breezes of the flowery Spring.
And still proud man will hug it to his heart,
And, rather than permit it to escape,
Will drive his wife away in poverty!
I hate the name of money. There is not
A spark of honesty about the thing!
It has no beauty in its shine for me,
When underneath it lies the venomed sting
That poisons many an honest soul to death,
That, but for its acquaintance, would be just.
It was my fate about three Moons ago,
To give three pieces to my little boy,
Who, from that moment forth, began to pine,
But hugged them to his bosom till his death!
I have not carried it about me since.
There is some Magic in its serpent shine.
It leads the mightiest warriours by the hand,
As gently as the father leads his child,
And he will listen to its foolish clink
As if it were some music from the skies
The purest gold that ever left the mine.
58
It is the rock above that tells of gold
Below—as by the White-Man's smile is seen
The outside cunning of his inside heart.
But take this black stuff from its blacker back,
And give it to the White-Man, he will lead
Millions of mighty men to deadly war!
Who, from the deathless love of love for it,
Will see ten thousand deaths to live one life
With that which has no sympathy for life;
And call it glory—fighting for their soil—
And, after all, be killed by it at last!
And all for that infernal stuff which man
Has dug up from the earth to cheat the world!
There is no native shine upon its face.
It only flitters like the Serpent's eyes,
To charm the unwary flutterer to its jaws,
Then afterwards, to swallow him down whole!
Selma
And thou wilt then, in spite of money—spite
Of that great Capital which rules the world,
And leads such mighty men to war—make war?
Osceola
The eagle that has roosted on the pine,
59
And, rising on the dewy breath of Morn,
Shew him in joy to the Sun's Eye gloriously,
Nor heed the frozen armour that has weighed
All night upon his snowy wings. Farewell!
(Exeunt)
(Enter Naymoyah meeting Celuta).
Celuta
Come, beauteous Cygnet from the Lake of Swans—
(For thou hast seen the young Hind in thy dreams—)
Celuta loves thee well!
Naymoyah
Why dost thou weep!
Celuta
Thou shalt not hear me say—for thou will know!
Naymoyah
Far well Naymoyah knows Celuta's heart.
Celuta
I asked Manitou from the Land of Souls,
To heal the festering wound that grief had made;
But there is no great Prophet in this world!
Rejoice, Naymoyah! for we soon shall part!
Naymoyah
Why say you so, Celuta? speak to me!
Celuta
60
And Osceola goes to lay them low!
The spirit of his father leads him on.
I heard them, when the night was on thine eyes,
Speaking of this great thing.
Naymoyah
He will not go.
Celuta
What! Osceola? He who told me so,
Is firmer than the fixed Star of the North—
I hear the thunder of the big-mouth drum.
Coming in whirlwinds from the far-off Hills,
To rouse the Warriours from their thousand tents!
Now then, Naymoyah, listen to my voice;
Swim not the roaring waters for my sake
But come back to me at the New Moon,
To the Valley of Sweet Waters, where the Fawn
Lies speckling in the sun. I will not join
The Old Times of my fathers, till I come
To thee again. Celuta loves thee well.
Naymoyah
The Eagle may outsoar the dove, but yet
The Dove flies swifter to her native nest.
The Bee that gathers honey from the flower,
61
And, as it hungers for the same sweet flower,
So will Naymoyah for Celuta's love.
Celuta
Gather the Wild-flowers by the Roaring Stream,
And, just five moons from this, come down to me
Where the young Doe suckles her Fawn in love
By the light of the moon by night. Farewell!
Naymoyah
Nay, stay Celuta! tears are in thine eyes!
Celuta
Naymoyah! They are shed for thee! Farewell!
Remember, that Celuta loves thee well!
(Exeunt)
Scene III
(The Indian Camp. Yelling without. Enter Warriours commanded by Osceola, and attended by Jumper and Miccanopy.)Osceola
Brave Warriours! we have gathered here today
To swear destruction to the White-Man's soul!
Now, like the furious Hurricane let loose
From Hell to fell his prarie-path along
The woods; so let us with our blood hound yells,
Pour lightning thunders on their heads, till all
62
Miccanopy
Hear you the thunders of that voice? Shout!
The Tommahawk is now dug up again—
Never to rust beneath the Tree of Peace!
Osceola
Now, Warriours! place your hands upon your hearts,
And with the fresh remembrance of our wrongs,
Continually reminding us of home,
Sweat never to smoke the Calumet of Peace
Again with man, till we are free! Now shout!
(They shout).
Brave Warriours! Osceola has been chained!
These hands that, with my father's locust-bow, once stayed
The bold Eagle in his flight to Heaven—
Piercing the bosom of the milky Swan
Soaring aloft above the Reed-Isles green—
They have been chained-chained by the power of man!
For that indignity the White-Man dies!
No! never shall my soul find rest again,
Until the wound made by that chain is healed!
For, like the gathering fury of the stream,
That from the cataract's awful brink rolls down,
Like one hurled hopeless into Hell to sink;
So gathers in my soul the mighty power
63
The puny Pale-face what it is to rouse
The vengeance of the Indian's hate! On-on!
(Exeunt omnes.)
Scene IV
(An open pine barren, with a beautiful Lake in the back. alarums without. Enter Soldiers under the command of Major Dade.)Major Dade
Here, Nature dwells in all her majesty.
No human habitation here disturbs
The quest of this solitary scene.
But here where we now stand—where none but feet
Of savages were seen—shall soon,
A civilized community be seen,
Whose hands shall rear them prosperous little towns
While modest maidens, beautiful as pure,
With gentle coyness ripening into love,
Shall dignify existence with their own;
And joyful children, happy in their sports,
Sing songs where Savages now yell aloud;
And we shall be the foremost who shall lead
This Empire on. But hark! I hear them now!
This Empire on—
64
End of Act Fourth
Act V
Scene I
(Dade's battleground. Enter Soldiers under the command of General Gaines, who march to the sound of mournful music around Major Dade's grave.General Gaines
Soldiers! beneath this little spot of earth,
(And hallowed be the land that gave him birth—)
Lies gallant Dade the bravest of the brave,
Who we had all most freely died to save!
(They march around his grave again.)
All that could dignify the valorous heart,
And make him nobler than the rest of man,
Impelled him onward to his Country's cause.
The noblest sense of justice that the voice
Of pure Religion ever taught to man,
65
When, from the Altar of his body slain,
Arose the finest Offering in his soul
That ever fled away unstained to Heaven.
But what could he bequeathe his Country's cause
More sacred than the noblest of her sons?
The utterance of my lips is far too poor
To speak his praises whose sad death deserves
An eulogy pronounced by Angels' tongues.
Though his lamented death now mourned by all,
Disdains the mockery of my feeble praise,
Yet it shall be the Argument for song
In Future Ages when the dulcet strains
Of Genius shall flow down the tide of Time
To fill Eternity with noble deeds!
Let not the Sacred Vail that hides him in
This solitude, be lifted from his grave;
But let the Silence that surrounds him here,
Speak the deep gratitude of all our hearts!
For speechless as this solitude now is,
There is, about its stillness, more profound
And audible eloquence, then in the deep
And loud-mouth thunder! All is silent now!
There is no deep-toned bell to toll, in long
66
There is no pompous monument to rear
Its ghostly aspect for the passers by!
The Silence of this tongueless Solitude
Shall speak sublime language for the dead,
Than ever could the cold lips of the pale
And letered Monument! The mighty Winds
In Nature's stormy concert shall attune
The shafted columns of the giant Oaks
In wonderous melody to sing his praise.
His Country's voice can speak his virtues best.
What are the glorious Sepulchres of Kings,
To genius laureled with immortal fame?
The one is fleeting as the drunkard's thoughts—
The other lasting as the immortal soul.
The weakness of my heart has sealed its tears
With the brave poet that I am called to act.
The Soldier in the battle-strife weeps not
Above the body of his brother slain.
The funeral pageant keeps the mourner's tears
All dry until at some auspicious hour,
When, like the unsealed gratitude of Heaven,
The heart pours out its weight of wo unseen;
And gathering strength from such divine relief,
Wakes vigorous like the strong man for the race.
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Hail, Music! blessed Angel of the skies!
There was no language worthy of the Sons
Of God, but music such as Angels used,
To celebrate the Birth-day of the World.
The mighty cataracts were heard to pour
Their giant voices on the ear of Night!
And now, the humblest of Columbia's Sons
Lift up their proud hearts responsive to the strain.
But shall that brave man's death be unavenged?
No! let the lasting memory of his name
Sink deep in all our hearts for fierce revenge!
The blood-stained earth looks in the peaceful face
Of Heaven, imploring vengeance on the foe!
The last fond duty that we owe the dead,
Is thus to scatter flowers upon his grave!
(They scatter flowers on his grave to the sound of mournful music, then march out.)
Scene II
(The banks of the Ouithlacoochee. Alarums without. Enter Indian Warriours commanded by Osceola.Osceola
Rejoice, brave Warriours! for the day is ours!
68
Rending the columns of sulphurous smoke,
As through the gorge—like vista soared the souls,
Where looked they back upon destruction near,
But tempest-towering took them to the sky;
While those who had not perished in the fight,
Lay calling out for Mercy—but their cries
Were unavenged for Mercy did not come.
But Miccanopy came, that old Top Chief—
The good old governor of the Lake of Swans—
Who meeting their brave general front to front,
Stood up before him there with eyes of fire,
As if to see which one should die the first,
When gathering fury from the panting pause,
As clouds collect their lightnings in the sky—
The brave old Miccanopy laid him low!
But while they thus contended—after all
Were slain—away fled Glory from the Field,
Bearing her white-winged daughter, Hope, with her—
And dashing down her laurels at our feet,
Left Indian Victory trampling them to dust!
On—on, brave Warriours! for another fight!
(Exeunt omnes.)
Scene III
69
General Gains
What is thy name, young girl?
Naymoyah
Naymoyah, Sir.
General Gains
A beautiful Indian name. But say,
Art thou as good as thou art beautiful?
Naymoyah
Ask Selma, he can tell.
General Gains
Ah! who is he?
One whom Naymoyah loves?
Naymoyah
As thou hast said.
Didst ever love thy mother, father—wife?
If so, then smile not at Naymoyah's love.
General Gains
Where are thy father, mother, brothers—friends?
Naymoyah
Where poor Naymoyah soon would be, had she
Not Selma's love!
General Gains
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Naymoyah
I have no father, mother—none but thee
And Selma! Will you let me go to him?
General Gains
What is he more than any other man?
Naymoyah
The same as is thy life-blood to thy heart,
Which cannot do with any other blood.
General Gains
His name says he is not of Indian blood.
Naymoyah
Had he been so, Naymoyah had not loved.
General Gains
But thou wilt soon forget him in this camp.
Naymoyah
Soon as the turtle dove forgets her mate,
And soars off with the Vulture to find rest.
Soon as the mother shall forget her child—
Or any other most unnatural thing
Shall come to pass—when love shall not be love—
Then will Naymoyah cease to love her love.
General Gains
Then it is better thou hadst never loved.
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The Moon shines brightest in the darkest night.
General Gains
We think, we love, in absence, better than
We know we do, when the beloved is nigh.
Naymoyah
The more we know of that which gives us joy,
The more of joy we feel in knowing it.
And 'tis the attribute of spotless love
To cling to that which is congenial to it.
Thus have we clung together like two birds
Born on one stalk—so, if you take away
The one that helped the other on to live
You will be sure to take the life of both
(She kneels.)
General Gains
Oh! woman! woman! who shall speak thy praise?
Thou art the brightest perfection of the Heavens—
Our Sun by day—our Pillar of Fire by night—
The only Light we have on earth to lead
Our Ship of Life save in the Port of Heaven!
Rise up, Naymoyah! thou art free to go.
(Enter an Officer)
Officer
General! we have an Indian spy in camp,
72
General Gains
A Spanish exile as an Indian spy!
Well, that is strange! what is his name?
Officer
'Tis Selma, so he says
General Gains
Then bring him forth (Exit officer.)
Perhaps he is in search of that fond girl.
(Reenter Officer with Selma)
Selma
General! untimely as this visit seems,
It could not have been made in better time.
Like all the Workings of the Natural World,
It brings along with it its own reward.
General Gains
But you are called an Indian spy.
Selma
The calling does not change the being called.
General Gains
But are you not an exile from old Spain?
Selma
And hoping in such destiny to know
That kind Misfortune placed me in your power—
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My Prophecy is now fulfilled—my cup
Of vengeance full.
General Gains
Thy cup of vengeance full!
What does he mean? I do not understand!
Selma
Misfortune, who was tutor to my youth,
Has left me wiser than most men. My fate
Had long ago been sealed in death, had it
Not been preserved by one most dear to me.
Now that my oath is registered in Heaven,
I swear to be the husband of that girl,
And take revenge for her dear father's death!
General Gains
Then it is private wrong, not public good,
That brought you here?
Selma
Though circumstance may change
The outward man, no destiny can change
The inward soul. The Rose is just as sweet—
Will give out just as many hues to Heaven—
Born in the Desert, as in Paradise
General Gains
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Naymoyah?
Selma
She it was who saved my life—
Stabbing the thirsty blood-hound to the heart,
Who stood above me, threatening me with death!
General Gains
She did not seem the savage thou hast said.
Selma
Love that is tenderest in the peaceful hour,
Is strongest in the hour of greatest ill.
I trust that she is safe now in your bounds?
General Gains
No, she was taken captive in the fight,
But craving to return, we let her go—
Breathing your name with accents full of love.
Indeed she seemed the model of her sex.
Selma
Yes, General, we are destined to be one.
No power can separate us now on earth.
And now to consummate this hope, let me
Unfold the object of this interview.
I will direct your soldiers to the camp
Where Osceola in his fastness lurks,
75
General Gains
Then you would hook him with his own foul bait?
Selma
The Rising Sun will rise to set no more.
Come, General, do not scruple at your wish.
An armistice like this will make him fast,
And cancel all the debt of my revenge.
General Gains
The Soldiers of the camp are free to go;
But should you prove untrue—remember Heaven!
Selma
Then he is ours. Now Soldiers, follow me.
(Exeunt omnes)
Scene IV
(Osceola's Tent in the Indian camp. Celuta is discovered scattering flowers on the dead body of her child.)Celuta
Bright Rose of the Desert! brightest of all!
Thou wert the first young love of Celuta's heart!
I baptized thee with the new milk from my breast,
In the shadow of the aged Oak, where
Thy poor dear mothers shall see thee no more!
The Pigeons may come from the frozen North,
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But thou, oh, my soul! will return no more!
(Enter Osceola.) Osceola.
Celuta! the big tears are in thine eyes!
The Great Spirit, who tries the soul of men,
Will lead us along by our father's groves
To where the spirit of our young child lives!
Celuta
He is gone to the Big Light's Father there
To rest in the arms of the Milky Moon.
But will the White-Man tread upon his bones?
Osceola
Yes, they will crush his body into dust!
But the hour is nigh when the silent woods
Shall tremble again at the warriour's voice,
And the sulphurous smoke of the noisy gun
Turn the bright Sun up in the Heavens to eclipse!
Two Moons ago, we had no tears to shed—
Now we are fuller than the sea with waves!
(Enter an Indian Warriour guarding Selma who is disguised as a Soldier.)
Warriour
Great Chief! this captive Soldier—shall he die?
Osceola
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Selma
Graham.
Osceola
Graham? that voice?
No—let him go.
Warriour
But Miccanopy says
All White-men, caught by us, must die.
Osceola
Touch not
A hair upon his head! I recollect he cured
A little child of mine some Moons ago;
And Osceola's heart does not forget.
The best of men are not without some fault,
And for the little that is in my soul,
He shall not die. Let him alone! away!
(Exit warriour.)
Selma
Our general sent me here to say to you
That he is tired of war, and now wants peace—
That all who carry rifles in their hands,
From this day forth, shall be shot down.
Osceola
(aside)
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That is not Graham's voice!—Go, tell thy Chief
I am the Gulf Stream of the Sea of all
My people. Did you ever know it to run back?
When did the Eagle ever cease to be
A bird of prey because the turtle mourns?
Then put thy one hand into both of mine
And take back to thy general all my heart,
And tell him that the streams run down the hills.
Selma
Perhaps thy people will agree to this.
Osceola
The Chiefs are the Hills of their native land—
The people are the streams from these great Hills.
When they all gather into one great Stream,
There is no power on earth can stay their course!
A full blood Indian never changed his mind.
So Osceola, called the Rising Sun,
And Miccanopy, old Top Chief,
Can never change. Go tell thy general this.
(Enter Soldiers, armed, who surround Osceola).
Selma
Look, Osceola! look! they come for thee!
Behold, the soul of Simighan is here!
(Throwing off
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Osceola
Oh! ye Almighty Whirlwinds of the Deep!
Gather yourselves together in the clouds,
And mustering up the Engines of your wrath,
In one consuming Cataract of Fire,
Let it be syllabled in one deep word,
And let that word be poured out by the mouth,
Of an immortal Thunder as the curse
Of Osceola on that traitor's head!
What, Selma? is this you, my boy? then die!
(Osceola stabs him and, in falling, is caught by one of the Soldiers).
Selma
Oh, God! Where is Naymoyah? Call her here!
To me! there! hold! she did not think of this!
Brave Soldiers! lash him to the same foul stake
They bound poor Selma to—then cut his throat!
I go to find Naymoyah! Fare thee well!
(Exit).
Osceola
No mortal's eyes did ever yet look on
The full-orbed glory of the Rising Sun
Unblinded! Never yet did mortal man
Stand up to Osceola, face to face,
80
The prize he has been fighting for is life;
The one foe which he now contends is death!
So meet me every coward one of you—
Come on, ye pale-face, chicken-hearted brats!
And let me teach you Indian skill! No, stand!
And let your hearts grow stronger by delay!
For now ye all stand huddled round like sheep.
Stamping the desert earth with meaning looks
Each one the other watching who flies first!
Ye may be Stars of Certain magnitude,
But already flabbergasted at the Rising Sun!
But now that he has passed his noontide hour,
Where none shall ever shine as he has shone!
And setting, never more shall shine again!
In the dark night that he shall leave behind,
Shine out the little sparks of light, ye have
The brightest in the darkest hour—for now
The cloud that passes on my soul, shall be
The darkest that the Indian ever saw!
Look at the plague-spot that your treachery daubs
Upon the brightest name that ever shone!
But all the glory ye shall ever gain
By gazing at this huge eclipse, is that
81
Linked with the foulest deed that ever stained
The Annals of the damned! The Night is here!
(turning to Celuta)
Celuta! come to me, my love! look up!
See how my foes now compass me around!
Celuta
Alas! what will they do with thee, great Chief?
Osceola
The great high Spirit, who now walks in Heaven,
Has called for Osceola—he must go!
Celuta! we must part!
Celuta
Oh! say not so!
Osceola
What the Great Spirit says, it must be done!
Celuta
How long will thou be gone?
Osceola
Five Moons or more.
If any longer, than wilt come to me,
Where the Great Spirit lives! But do not weep!
And when the Sun goes down upon the Sea,
Leaving the full orbed Moon walking through Heaven
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Be so to Osceola!
Celuta
That I will!
Osceola
But, White-Man! write not Osceola's name!
No! bring him back again, when he is dead
And dig his grave deep in the blessed earth—
Here, where the noisy cataract now sings
The wild sweet anthem of his native land,
And tells the world of freedom! Lay me here;
And let the joyous birds sing at my grave!
But write not Osceola's name again!
Let not the White-Man stain the virgin sheet
Writing the name that he has blackened so!
For it is written on the mighty Hills
In characters that shall outlive the Sun!
No, White-Man! lock it in the deep cold grave
With Osceola's heart!—there let it rest!
And when the dusky slave shall come to tell
The Axman's Signal to my native Oaks—
Rousing the ponderous silence of the woods
With pompous noise of axes—bid him tread
Not on the willow-shaded grave of him
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Save on the footsteps of his God—with fear!
Then, when they tread upon my father's bones,
That they shall plough up from my native soils,
They will remember Osceola's name,
And stand upon his only Monument!
And when the children, wandering through the woods,
Shall pluck the flowers that he has gazed upon,
Teach them to say that Osceola died
Just as he lived—the White-Man's foe! (turning to Celuta again)
Look up, thou bending flower to the Setting Sun!
And catch the last fond glimmer of his beams!
For, in one hour from this, he will be dark—
Dark as the unlighted world beyond the grave!
How hard it is for me to part from thee!
Harder than dying by the White-Man's hand!
But it must be—there is no other hope!
Soldier
Great Chief! thy wife is privileged to go.
Osceola
Who was it spoke that blessed word? Thank God!
(Exeunt omnes).
84
Scene V
(Selma is discovered leaning against a moss-covered rock in the desert. Enter Naymoyah as if in search of him).Naymoyah
Oh! God! what is it that I see? my love?
(Rushes to him and kneels by his side)
Selma
Naymoyah!
Naymoyah
Selma!
Selma
I did look for thee!
Naymoyah
What is the matter, Selma? speak, my love!
There's blood upon thy bosom! speak to me!
Selma
By hoping future pleasure, present woes
Took sudden birth! Naymoyah! I must die!
(Falls back and dies).
Naymoyah
What! Selma! do not die! speak to me, love!
(Feels his head).
No! the nest is warm, but the bird has flown!
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Pluming his soul for instant flight to Heaven!
See! on the rosy atmosphere of Joy,
It soars away to find the Blessed Isles!
The sweet little bird of my hope is gone,
Pillowed away up in the peaceful sky
Upon the beautiful wings of his soul!
Oh! beauteous Island in this Sea of Life!
How dark have been the waves around thee cast!
How fond Naymoyah loved to worship thee,
And make thy life as joyous as her own—
Moulting thy bosom with the Spring of Love!
Now, now, on the same bosom will I die,
Where I first built my utmost hope of life—
Here, on this little island girt by waves
Of sorrow, dashing on him now—lie down!
Oh! God! they rush upon him now! they roll!
They roll! they roll! I drown beneath the waves!
I drown beneath the waves that drown my love!
I sink beneath the sea that whelms his soul!
I hear it now, oh! God! I hear it now!
It rolls! it rolls! it rolls above his head—
Washing away my utmost hope of life!
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Naymoyah comes to thee! Wait, heavenly dove!
I come to thee! I come to thee in Heaven!
(Dies).
Curtain falls
End of Act Fifth
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |