THE COMING OF THE MAORI.

Otago Witness, Issue 2811, 26 August 1908, Page 70

THE COMING OF THE MAORI.

Wasted to know our calling, maddened to lose our pride, Gathered ii«me to our fathers from a world no longer wide : Phantom and, •dream and mirage, words ■which -are uttered in vain, And 1 the call of blataait empires that linger and murmur and wane! Bxvt here is the bravest story men ever sew graven on stone, , The wildest of 'human fortunes e'er forged out of blood, jud bone. Ten canoes at sunset coming back from the fight. Leering like dancing demons as they face the tropic night ; Gaudy in gold and! war paint, noisy with victor chiefs, And laden of slaves and pearls a<nd coral from richest reefs.Neva were boats so- chartered with treiasure dear-bought as these; But seldom liave men went sailing out en such, fatal .seas. A stilsl-like death on the waters, a calm 'like the calm of noon, Then a cry as the vedee of tliunder cr the call of: a far monsoon! But the ocean had known deep oer-or pr.d angered in .seething sxtrf, While the warriors prayed to their idcls for rest on the cool brown lurf. But not on© prayer was answered never a god gave aid, And nine boats creaked and foundered, vl-ile fear-dim eyes sought the siiade. Rocked like- a, child in Ms cradle, swaddled in snowy foam, Tattered and spoiled and sinking, tk-e last crew dreamed of liome ; But when is a man his master"? Ah, rot on the trackless sea, Where prowess 1 is all' for nothing, and strength but idle gle«; Wine-re life is play for the spirits, and death the game of the sods; Where aill must lie like victims to a, strong king's torture-rods ! Friend and foe ai the bulwarks-, spread sails and day for spent, No sight of palm or mountain, camp lire c^ forest tent; Naught but the moaning ocean, naught but the misty miles, Not even a rocky fortress, much 'c. s grey coral isles. ' But the chief has up amd spoken, 'tnd iihe chief his voice rings clear : "Friend or foe, one tube, united: fglit onward, hope, nor fear •' ' "For suTe as the sun of morrow dawns in the Teddening east, W© will gain a land of pleasure, and dance at a welcome feast; Or else- we shall reach a country t Lere skill -with fh« axe is fee . To bring a fair admission and vcrtLy liberty ; But whether that be or never, let us s-s-ear by our living breath That where'er we go we go Pg,"!' -ing-, and will fight to the utter death. ' Thus worn with pain and travail, weeks on the salt cold main, Warriors, babes, and women, and death with a call not vain ; No more the laughing sunsliiue, m-o more the d«nce or the fight, But tiring hearts and a worn canoe, and sea and day and night. What if it is stark hunger? What if it is grim cold? Lit waits here at our elbow, and life ia a thing to hold! Weaker and hopeless and dying only tnc strong remain, Angered and vilely tortured, half alive and half sane ; Tired they are of watching, sick ihiv are of the plight; Ah! the youthful chiei is a \iero, and faces the toils with a might. But to-day, like a dreaxa of heaven, iLe dawn from a green land smiles, And they chant a hymn to their idols— a pssan of the happy isles. Gathered And sold lor shillings, measured by feet or price, , Where is the v.orth of heroes — the fane heart's sacrifice ? Lost, perchance, with, the ages older yxd rod-ear than ours, Hidden in dusty volumes unread in crumbling tow-exs, But long as cur blood is British, and long as our souls are free, We shall lilt a line in lionoxir of tiicse heroes ©i tite ,eai =r-PAKEHA.