University of Virginia Library

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
Conceived of in the silent hour of prayer,
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
Of an immortal Moon, whose glorious face,
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
He comes!

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;
The turtle that is in thy heart, was caged
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—
As Miccanopy told you long ago.
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.
And, in the voice of the departed, said,
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
I meant my words should poison all thy soul!
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,
And in the battle try my hand again,
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!
I come to tear that swan-down from thy back,
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).
Ostenee
Matchi! Manitou! help, Naymoyah! help!

(Dies).
(Curtain falls)