Malua's eyes grew dim, The gentle stars seen faint thro' hanging leaves Wavered uncertainly; his brain seemed black, Confused with horrid death, the dewy moss He lay on failed beneath him. Suddenly Hanging upon the brittle rim of death, His outstretched hand, gripping the scattered leaves, Closed on a sharp stone, instinct more than brain Showed him the way; he raised his weapon, struck And struck and struck again. The night looked down Waning, and saw thro' tangled boughs a still, Dead figure on the troubled earth. All stained With crimson blood, there lay a crimson wreath, And thro' the forest stole a dusky shade Fleeing he knew not where save that he 'scaped Death, that was lying by the forest pool.
At dawn the weary boy, who thro' the night Had cried his love and anguish to the dark, Wandering half crazed thro' forest deeps unknown, Feeling upon his throat the hand of hate, Feeling upon his heart the still more potent Fingers of love, came to the open shore Waiting for day. The restless, eager foam, Stretching white arms around the sleeping earth, Woke his great love anew. The loneliness Of open spaces set his hungry soul Dreaming of Taka, Taka who should come And fill the empty world for him. The sky Paled at the thought. The dawn was stealing near, Glimmering faintly on the edge of night. He could delay no longer; like a thief He must secure his jewel in the dark. In the vast pause that presages the morn He came to Taka's door. Ajar it stood, And on the mats within he saw revealed The pure young oval of her perfect face. "Taka, my little one," Malua whispered, And thro' her dreams "Malua" passed her lips, Slipping insensibly to waking. So She saw him at the door and came to him, Her dewy dreams still warm within her eyes, And gave her face to passionate caress. Then with soft, broken words he told again His love, and after when her heart was full Of glad acceptance, as a flash of fire Searing his image on her soul, he told How blood had paid the price of love.
She heard, And daylight ebbed before her eyes to faint White mist, then refluent turned and smote Her heart's eyes with the horror of the truth. Uhila dead. Uhila with the smile That woke for her alone. Her thoughts, like leaves Blown by cold winds, were scattered, and the words "Uhila dead" was but a symbol grim Of darkness. All the past, her happy life Flower in the sun, her home, and all the dear Familiar duties, all her life to come Woven with thoughts of kind Uhila, all Struck to the ground by murder. In her blood The pale drops cried to heaven against the wrong, Wrong to her people and her love, till now So beautiful.