The moon
Glittered in troubled ripples, they had come
Under the shadow of the trees, the dark
Goaded Uhila's soul anew, his blood,
Blazing with conflict, gave him mad-man's strength
And devil's skill. His straining form relaxed,
Heavily slipping earthward; ere Malua
Could gain fresh hold upon his fainting foe,
Uhila with a twist had laid him low,
Knee on his breast, lean fingers at his throat
Seizing his life.
Malua's eyes grew dim,
The gentle stars seen faint thro' hanging leaves
Wavered uncertainly; his brain seemed black,
Confused with horrid death, the dewy moss
He lay on failed beneath him. Suddenly
Hanging upon the brittle rim of death,
His outstretched hand, gripping the scattered leaves,
Closed on a sharp stone, instinct more than brain
Showed him the way; he raised his weapon, struck
And struck and struck again.
The night looked down
Waning, and saw thro' tangled boughs a still,
Dead figure on the troubled earth. All stained
With crimson blood, there lay a crimson wreath,
And thro' the forest stole a dusky shade
Fleeing he knew not where save that he 'scaped
Death, that was lying by the forest pool.
At dawn the weary boy, who thro' the night
Had cried his love and anguish to the dark,
Wandering half crazed thro' forest deeps unknown,
Feeling upon his throat the hand of hate,
Feeling upon his heart the still more potent
Fingers of love, came to the open shore
Waiting for day.
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