of obedience loosed and the tributes grudgingly brought. p. 5And when last to the temple of Oro the boat with the victim sped, And the priest uncovered the basket and looked on the face of the dead, Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous thing, For there was the aito [5] dead, and he of the house of the king.

p. 5

So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy of note, And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from the boat; And Támatéa the pliable shouldered the basket and went, And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad that was well content. Still the way of his going was round by the roaring coast, Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades run riot the most. On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows battered the land; p. 6Unscalable, turreted mountains rose on the inner hand. And cape, and village, and river, and vale, and mountain above, Each had a name in the land for men to remember and love; And never the name of a place, but lo! a song in its praise: Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier days, That the elders taught to the young, and at night, in the full of the moon, Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in tune. Támatéa the placable went with a lingering foot; He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse as a flute; He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grateful shadow of trees, In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the knees; And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand-fold, The deeds of the strong and the songs of the cunning heroes of old.

p. 6

p. 7And now was he come to a place Taiárapu honoured the most, Where a silent valley of woods debouched on the noisy coast, Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai. [7] There, in his potent youth, when his parents drove him to die, Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and the fire, Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting his hair in the mire; And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree to his foot— So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it naked of fruit. There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow of coming ills, Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on the hills.

p. 7

Of these was Rahéro sprung, a man of a godly race; And inherited cunning of spirit and beauty of body and face. p. 8Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rahéro wandered the land, Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men with his hand. Famous he was in his youth; but before the midst of his life Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to glory and 

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