“Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye, Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to die. There, where the broken mountain drops sheer into the glen, p. 72There shall you find a hold from the boldest hunter of men; There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls only at noon, And only once in the night enters the light of the moon, Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when it falls with a shout; For death and the fear of death beleaguer the valley about. Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon despair; Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare. Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every one right; But the god of every tapu is not always quick to smite. Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful gods, Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of the kindly sods, Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake for you; And whenever the land wind blows and the woods are heavy with dew, Alone through the horror of night, [72] with food for the soul of her love, Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the dove.”

p. 72

p. 73“Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous things, Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things; The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch in the trees of the wood, Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good.”

p. 73

“Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read; Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her lover in need? Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight; The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in the night.”

So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the swallow goes; And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed her flight, And there were the lodges below, each with its door alight; p. 74From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the even long Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of song; The quiet passage of souls over his head in the trees; [74] And from all around the haven the crumbling thunder of seas. “Farewell, my home,” said Rua. “Farewell, O quiet seat! To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death shall beat.”

p. 74

p. 75III. THE FEAST

p. 75

Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked peak, And all the village was stirring, for now was the priest to speak. Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the chief in 

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