Unrivall'd long had liv'd the happy maid; And many a hero had her love essay'd. But youthful _Quam'no_ was the virgin's pride; Her friend, protector, and her faithful guide. Fast by her side he kept his guardian way, Lest trecherous _Whites_ should seize the tempting prey. The freshening cocoas from their height he bore, Clustering bananas spread their juicy store, The spotted spoils adorn'd her rural bow'r, When from the chace, in the dear ev'ning hour, Glowing, she met him with the welcome smile; Pleas'd and yet anxious at the manly toil. And now through dewy dawn, the rising ray Lights up the radiance of their bridal day. With early nymphs within the busy room, Amidst the labours of the flying loom, Of vivid tints she plies the various thread; The long-plann'd work, to grace the nuptial bed. With beating steps resounds the hollow floor; To rapid strokes responds the clam'rous door. With breathless energy she flies amain, To meet her _Quam'no_ and the bridal train. Alas! no _Quam'no_ meets her eager eye— In rush the spoilers with detested cry; Seize with rapacious force the trembling prey; And to the shore the hapless spoil convey. When urg'd by rage or hunger's burning force, The rav'ning lion darts his furious course, And through the herd his bloody passage ploughs So _Quam'no_ rushes through the crowd of foes, Carves his fierce way, entwines the fainting maid; With vain protection;—lo! a treach'rous blade, Darted behind with sure, with coward aim, Transfixes deep; convuls'd, the bleeding frame, Plunged indignant o'er the tainted ground; Life rolls his torrent through the yawning wound; O'er his fierce eyes death's hideous shadows move And dim, suffusion, shut out light and love. _Abyeda_, now upon the lifeless form, Sinks in despair beneath the trying storm. The murd'rous stroke that mark'd his early tomb, Involves her intellects in deadly gloom. Her wounded reason the sad mansion flies: Sense men widely, and Reflection dies!