University of Virginia Library

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.

Selma
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
A villian robbed me—left me desolate!
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—
And by the Indians.

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)
Naymoyah! Dost thou love that savage name?
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
Fear not ten thousand Indians, armed in steel;
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
God of Heaven!
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

(The Forest—Enter Charley Emathla meeting Col. Thompson. Report of guns and violent yellings heard without).
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—
Who shakes the White-man's hand he hates the most.

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)

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,
That, while terrific palsy shook thy soul,
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
'Tis true!

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
Oh! ye infernal scorpions of the Rocks!
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
Why is it that the Indian cannot live
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

laid the green arms of the giant Oaks all bare. But never has the Seminolean seen a time like this! The Winter has returned again with tenfold violence—The Summer's Sun gone down in blood! The Roe-buck has been driven from the Hills—the white Swans from the silver Lakes. Who can now tell what Miccanopy's fate will be?

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

roar. The Storm had played among its cloudy moss, like Endea fondling with the locks of Love. I sat beneath its shadow in the green days of my youth, when there was no sorrow in my soul. The birds were singing in its boughs. I saw a little Vine spring from its root, and raise itself from bough to bough. The old Oak seemed to love it as his child. A hundred Moons had passed away in Heaven. I saw that Oak again. But it was changed. Its limbs began to wither. Its leaves were yellow. Autumn had come before its time. It seemed to hang its stately glory out to die. The little Vine, that had been weaker than the Fawn, was now the Monarch of the Woods. It twisted its insidious folds around that Tree, until it prest the life-blood its heart! I looked upon that Serpent-Vine hugging its Monarch with deceit, and took my Tommahawk and cut it loose. The old Oak lived. It stood among the thunderclouds of Heaven the same; and now it wears the greenness of eternal youth. I cannot speak the White-man's speech. I have no music in my soul. I speak the language of my heart. The Red-Man is the Oak. The White-man is the Vine.

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

White-Man had the Red-Man's eyes! The blood that fills my veins is just as red as any other blood. I feel the same things that the White-Man feels. I eat, live, love, and have to die. The air I breathe is just the same to me. The children that I love are just as dear. To be where they are now—where they were born— is what I wish; but, if it cannot be, then— I can die!

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 it through).
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.

Selma
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!

(Osceola and Miccanopy fire on Col. Thompson and Charley Emathla, as they retire to the back of the stage, and they fall).
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

children's bones—rotting upon the earth that Osceola would not give to thee!

(Exit as the curtain falls)