University of Virginia Library

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
The ten fair Virgins of the Purple Hills,
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—
Suffer the puny Pale-face to be Lord
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.

Naymoyah
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!
Thy mother died to see thy father die!

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—
Plunge deep into the heart of Ostenee—
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)