Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
He soon discovered that his change had awakened in the breast of the
khan feelings of opposition beyond any he had anticipated. Ancestral
pride--the office of khan being hereditary--early prejudices,
strengthened by time and self-interest, often too influential over the
actions of those who possess a better faith, exercised combined power on
the old man's mind. Perhaps he was also stimulated by the more generous
and romantic sentiment with which we are inclined to regard the decay of
what has been hallowed by antiquity; and he stigmatized those who
forsook the ancient idolatries as meanly subservient to the will of the
great, endeavoring to imbue the mind of his daughter with similar
feelings.
Poor Oani had neither ability nor inclination for controversial
disquisitions. When her lover tried to lay before her the truths which
had influenced him to the change she deplored, a knowledge of which
would enable her to appreciate his motives, she would only weep, and
say, "Toleho, I am sad--sleep has gone from me, and my food has lost its
sweetness. If you do not worship Pele, her priestess must try not to
love you. No more may I sing for you when you are weary; no more gather
summer fruits to refresh you; nor bind sweet flowers in a chaplet for
your brow."
When the chief remarked, that by her embracing Christianity these
objections to their union would be obviated, her only answer was, "Could
I leave my father? _He_ never will forsake Pele. Could I--the only light
of his eyes--the last flower left to gladden the winter of his
life--could I leave his old age desolate?"
The separation of these Polynesian lovers was now inevitable, and it was
a sore trial, for they were fondly attached. It was at this era of
their story that I became acquainted with the young chief, and great
was the interest with which I listened to his simple narration,
heightened, probably, by the extraordinary circumstances under which I
heard it, seated together as we were, at midnight, upon the brink of the
fiery abyss, contemplating a scene so stupendous, so "horribly
beautiful," that probably no other in this world can compete with it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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