Taipari.

Thames Star, Volume XXIX, Issue 8621, 27 March 1897, Page 2

Taipari.

In the unconscious majesty of Death The moveless centre of the Tangi's swirl Has lain the Chief of Ngatimarn's tribe. Eight suns have risen o'er Hauraki's hills, And eight siius over Akarau set Since Nature's mystery of motion ceased, Since the elusive essence left the frame. In European casket closely sealed, Draped over with the dark funereal pall, In shadow of the carved Bununga porch, The dead has lain in semi-native state ; While kindred of, his race from far and nigh Have swiftly gathered through the fleeting days To mourn before their Kangiiira's bier, In Karakia and the wild Pihe. They tread the mystic measure of the dance; They chant his praises who can feel no pride; They vaunt the prowess of the palsied arm, The Mana of the Tuio Tangata, Rehearsing glowing periods long past— As dally, crowds of Saxon linoage come To view the Maori Chieftain's obsequies — Taipari's, In whose span of sixty years The subjugation of the virgin tract Of fair Hauraki's broad Peninsula, With inexhaustible stone auriferous— By Briton's skill, to British realm and sway. Shows its result in English homta that reach From Colville to Te Aroha's dark base. And with the inroad of the Englishman The Native learned the Pakeha's new ways. This Taipari himself was quick to choose The Pakeha's abode and style of dress, Above the whare puni and the mat. Though Saxon utterance faltered on hie

tongue. Now civilised decorum overrides All the repulsive tangi modes of old; No gory, sharp obsidian is seen To lacerate the mourner's brow and breast. While hundreds of the English race go forth When finally the mournful cortege wends Out to the Wahi tapu on the hill, Wfcere lie with Toa's of a bygone age Old Eewi, Nalie, and Te Moananu— Beside them very peacefully shall sleep In a deep grave on old Totara pah Wirope Hoterene Taipari. The English arms he once was proud to bear .Reversed for him are borne by Pakehas ; While o'er the Ngatimaru's lifeless form On the gun carriage lies the Union Jack. And the sad rhythm of the muffled drum Awakes a host of shrouded memories. The mingled crowd have laid him in hiß

tomb. Thus, " Lieth down, and riseth not again Until the Heavens be no more," this Chief Wirope Hoterene Taipari. Then down the winding valley of the Thames The echo of the Martini's roll on; Once ; twice, and thrice the volleys are outpoured As England to the Native Chieftain gives The honour dear to every British heart. The Paura Mamae is spent. They go And leave him to his lonely, long repose '■' Until the Heavens be no more." Farewell Wirope Hoterene Taipari. ; Thames. — Rosltn.