Great Scott! but you are splendid when you’re mad Now, please, don’t go; I’m really not so bad: I don’t mean half I say.
Oh, all you men Of pallid blood, again, and yet again Have offered insults to our island races. I own we once were savage; and the traces Of those wild days remain; but, sir, go back A little way, on _your_ ancestral track, And see what you will find. A horde of bold And lawless cut-throats, started many an old And purse-proud race; and brutal strength became The bloody groundwork for pretentious fame When Might was Right. If every royal tree Were dug up by the roots, the world would see That common mud first mothered the poor sprout. Your race is higher than my own, no doubt; Then shame upon you, for the poor display Of noble manhood that you make to-day, Thinking each brown-faced girl your lawful prey.
[_Turns her back upon him and starts to go_.]
Oh, say now, let a fellow have a show. I never meant to rouse your anger so; I only meant—I—well, you see the change Of climate was so sudden; and the strange And gorgeous scenery, and your glorious eyes Upset my brain. But you have put me wise. I own that I had heard—
[_Hesitates_, _and_ GIRL _breaks forth again_.]
Oh, yes, I know you heard Wild tales of Honolulu; and were stirred With high ambitions to return to Yale, The envied hero of a wilder tale; You thought each maiden on this Isle, perchance Wore skirts of grass, and danced the Hula dance; And gave her lips to any man for gold.
You thought the old time licence still prevailed; You did not know across the heavens had sailed A beautiful star in brilliancy arrayed, The _Self Respecting New Hawaiian Maid_— Who prides herself upon her blood and birth And holds her virtue at its priceless worth; And stands undaunted in her rightful place Snow white of soul, however brown of face, Warmer in blood than your white women are And yet more moral in her life by far Than many a leader in your halls of fashion.
I vow I like to see you in a passion; Such royal rage! Your forbear was, I know Kame-a-lili-like-kalico, Or some such name; who got in that great tiff And tumbled all his foes down off the cliff. I feel I’m lying with them in the valley While you stand all triumphant, on the Pali.