THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

Southland Times, Issue 556, 7 September 1866, Page 3

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.

By Elza Willson. Behind Massena's stately towers The sun was sinking fast, And all around — the trees, the fields, the flowers — Were bathed in crimson Hght. Softly the rippling stream flowed on With gentle murmuring sound, And birds sang sweet and flowers bloomed bright, Wafting their rich odour on the evening breeze, That gaily floated by. Aye, all without that tall old pile, Its dark grey turrets rising proudly, And quaint old panes, Half hidden in the clustering ivy, was -wondrous fair, While within — all, all was dark and drear. Upon a velvet couch within a spacious room, Ail hung with silken tapestry, And decked with costly treasures, Bright flowers and paintings rare — l ay dark-eyed Isidora, 1 he haughty chieftian's only well-beloved child. Of wondrous beauty was that face, The waving hair — black as the raven's wing, Thrown higlily off tho broad wiiite brow, Whereon the seal of death was stamped. Bright was the flush that burned upon the snowy cheek, And dark the lustrous eyes that fondly gazed Upon the sorrow-stricken father by her side. 'Twas hard for one so young and beautiful to die, Aud yet 'twas so. The noble daughter of an ancient house Was soon to lie where all must go, Alike the peasant aud the high-born peer. Twilight had sunk away, And now the silver moonbeams came streaming through the casement, Lighting ou, and making paler, the still white, And throwing iuto deeper shadow The massive coils of raven hair, Scattered iv graceful waves upon the crimson cushions. Woe ! woe ! deep, lasting woe, Crushed the proud spirit of the haughty chief. Night woro on apace, and now, A lamp's soft, mellow ray replaced the moon's ca^m light, And silken hangings of crimson hue, bordered with gold, Were drawn around the sufferers couch, Lending a fr«jsh charm to her dying beauty ; And suit unwearied sat the watchful parent beside his daughter's bed, Gazing, with bitter anguish, on the beauteous form that soon wouid rest within the grave. Sad thoughts were stirred within him, And days of victory and bloodshed and daring feats, Came crowding to his mind ; And then he thought of happier days, When small white hands were twiued upon his arm, And soft, dark eyes looked up to his with trustful loving joy ; And then there came a time when, With a bursting heart ho laid that bright being — his wife, Within the tomb. A moaning sound, the chief bent quickly o'er the dying girl, Her eyes unciosed, and for one fleeting moment Flashed with a brilliant light, The pale lips trembled, sha spoke one single word — Father ! .Oh, how it wrung his anguished heart, One long, last, fond embrace, Auother minute and the hght was quenched for ever from her eye — Her soul had leit its prison. The chitfcain's child wai — dead ! Invercargill, 20th August, 1866.