Most of all, For your light foot I wearied, and your knock That was the glad reveille of my day.

Lo, now, when to your task in the great house At morning through the portico you pass, One moment glance, where by the pillared wall Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument Of faiths forgot and races undivined: Sit now disconsolate, remembering well The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice, Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. As far as these from their ancestral shrine, So far, so foreign, your divided friends Wander, estranged in body, not in mind.



[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both set up to be in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse. Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract, and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may entertain a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author's muse has confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or heard during two months' residence upon the island. - R. L. S.]


Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards; And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine, Our now division duly solemnise. Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one: The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate! You to the blinding palace-yard shall call The prefect of the singers, and to him, Listening devout, your valedictory verse Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled, To the island chorus hand your measures on, Wed now with harmony: so them, at last, Night after night, in the open hall of dance, Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand, Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate! Paper and print alone shall honour mine.


LET now the King his ear arouse And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows, The while, our bond to implement, My muse relates and praises his descent.


Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing Who on the lone seas quickened of a King. She, from the shore and puny homes of men, Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken, Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear, Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near. She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale, The simple sea was void of isle or sail - Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared - When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared. But she, secure in the decrees of fate, Made strong her bosom and received the mate, And, men declare, from that marine embrace Conceived the virtues of a stronger race.


Her stern descendant next I praise, Survivor of a thousand frays: - In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; Led and was trusted by the strong; And when spears were in the wood, Like a tower of vantage stood: - Whom, not till seventy years had sped, Unscarred of breast, erect of head, Still light of step, still bright of look, The hunter, Death, had overtook.


His sons, the brothers twain, I sing, Of whom the elder reigned a King. No Childeric he, yet much declined From his rude sire's imperious mind, Until his day came when he died, He lived, he reigned, he versified. But chiefly him I celebrate That was the pillar of the state, Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien, The peaceful and the warlike scene; And played alike the leader's part In lawful and unlawful art. His soldiers with emboldened ears Heard him laugh among the spears. He could deduce from age to age The web of island parentage; Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance, For any festal circumstance: And fitly fashion oar and boat, A palace or an armour coat. None more availed than he to raise The strong, suffumigating blaze, Or knot the wizard leaf: none more, Upon the untrodden windward shore Of the isle, beside the beating main, To cure the sickly and constrain, With muttered words and waving rods, The gibbering and the whistling gods. But he, though thus with hand and head He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led, And thus in virtue and in might Towered to contemporary sight - Still in fraternal faith and love, Remained below to reach above, Gave and obeyed the apt command, Pilot and vassal of the land.

Robert Louis Stevenson
Classic Literature Library

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