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18.

And now they built themselves a leafy bower,
Amid a glade, slow Mondai's stream beside,
Screen'd from the southern blast of piercing power:
Not like their native dwelling, long and wide,
By skilful toil of numbers edified,

The common home of all, their human nest, Where threescore hammocks pendant side by side Were ranged, and on the ground the fires were drest; Alas, that populous hive hath now no living guest!

19.

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A few firm stakes they planted in the ground, Circling a narrow space, yet large enow; These strongly interknit they closed around With basket-work of many a pliant bough. The roof was like the sides; the door was low, And rude the hut, and trimm'd with little care, For little heart had they to dress it now; Yet was the humble structure fresh and fair, And soon its inmates found that love might sojourn there.

20.

Quiara could recall to mind the course
Of twenty summers; perfectly he knew
Whate'er his fathers taught of skill or force.
Right to the mark his whizzing lance he threw,
And from his bow the unerring arrow flew

With fatal aim: and when the laden bee
Buzz'd by him in its flight, he could pursue
Its path with certain ken, and follow free
Until he traced the hive in hidden bank or tree.

21.

Of answering years was Monnema, nor less Expert in all her sex's household ways. The Indian weed she skilfully could dress; And in what depth to drop the yellow maize She knew, and when around its stem to raise The lighten'd soil; and well could she prepare Its ripen'd seed for food, her proper praise; Or in the embers turn with frequent care Its succulent head yet green, sometimes for daintier

fare.

22.

And how to macerate the bark she knew,
And draw apart its beaten fibres fine,

And bleaching them in sun, and air, and dew;
From dry and glossy filaments entwine
With rapid twirl of hand the lengthening line;
Next interknitting well the twisted thread,
In many an even mesh its knots combine,
And shape in tapering length the pensile bed,
Light hammock there to hang beneath the leafy shed.

23.

Time had been when expert in works of clay
She lent her hands the swelling urn to mould,
And fill'd it for the appointed festal day
With the beloved beverage which the bold
Quaff'd in their triumph and their joy of old;
The fruitful cause of many an uproar rude,
When in their drunken bravery uncontroll'd,
Some bitter jest awoke the dormant feud,

And wrath and rage and strife and wounds and death ensued.

24.

These occupations were gone by: the skill
Was useless now, which once had been her pride.
Content were they, when thirst impell'd, to fill
The dry and hollow gourd from Mondai's side;
The river from its sluggish bed supplied
A draught for repetition all unmeet;
Howbeit the bodily want was satisfied;

No feverish pulse ensued, nor ireful heat, Their days were undisturb'd, their natural sleep was sweet.

25.

She too had learnt in youth how best to trim The honour'd Chief for his triumphal day, And covering with soft gums the obedient limb And body, then with feathers overlay, In regular hues disposed, a rich display. Well-pleased the glorious savage stood and eyed The growing work; then vain of his array Look'd with complacent frown from side to side, Stalk'd with elater step, and swell'd with statelier pride.

26.

Feasts and carousals, vanity and strife,
Could have no place with them in solitude
To break the tenor of their even life.
Quiara day by day his game pursued,
Searching the air, the water, and the wood,
With hawk-like eye, and arrow sure as fate;
And Monnema prepared the hunter's food:
Cast with him here in this forlorn estate,
In all things for the man was she a fitting mate.

27.

The Moon had gather'd oft her monthly store Of light, and oft in darkness left the sky, Since Monnema a growing burthen bore Of life and hope. The appointed weeks go by; And now her hour is come, and none is nigh To help but human help she needed none. A few short throes endured with scarce a cry, Upon the bank she laid her new-born son, Then slid into the stream, and bathed, and all was

done.

28.

Might old observances have there been kept, Then should the husband to that pensile bed, Like one exhausted with the birth have crept, And laying down in feeble guise his head, For many a day been nursed and dieted With tender care, to childing mothers due. Certes a custom strange, and yet far spread Through many a savage tribe, howe'er it grew, And once in the old world known as widely as the new.

29.

This could not then be done; he might not lay
The bow and those unerring shafts aside;
Nor through the appointed weeks forego the prey,
Still to be sought amid those regions wide,
None being there who should the while provide
That lonely household with their needful food:
So still Quiara through the forest plied
His daily task, and in the thickest wood

Still laid his snares for birds, and still the chase pursued.

30.

But seldom may such thoughts of mingled joy
A father's agitated breast dilate,

As when he first beheld that infant boy.

Who hath not proved it, ill can estimate

The feeling of that stirring hour,... the weight
Of that new sense, the thoughtful, pensive bliss.
In all the changes of our changeful state,

Even from the cradle to the grave, I wis,
The heart doth undergo no change so great as this.

31.

A deeper and unwonted feeling fill'd

These parents, gazing on their new-born son.
Already in their busy hopes they build.

On this frail sand. Now let the seasons run,
And let the natural work of time be done
With them,... for unto them a child is born:
And when the hand of Death may reach the one,
The other will not now be left to mourn
A solitary wretch, all utterly forlorn.

32.

Thus Monnema and thus Quiara thought, Though each the melancholy thought represt; They could not choose but feel, yet utter'd not The human feeling, which in hours of rest Often would rise, and fill the boding breast With a dread foretaste of that mournful day, When, at the inexorable Power's behest, The unwilling spirit, called perforce away, Must leave, for ever leave its dear connatural clay.

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