THE CHIEF'S VISION.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 235, 14 March 1885, Page 8

THE CHIEF'S VISION.

(Written for the " Observer.")

His tiibe have perished from the earth, their footprints passed away — The grand old rangatira breathes his latest sigh to-day ; The last of all his dusky race, awaiting Death's stern call, He turns his proud, but mournful face, in silence to the wall. Alone ! — what thoughts are passing through the dying chieftain's brain ? Does he recall the uiurd'rous fight — the flaming torch again ; Or, does his waning memory trace, through. intervening years, The downfall of his hardy race : their wrongs, their sighs, their teal's ? Perhaps, he with his dying breath the grasping race reviles, That robbed him of his birthright in the3e fair native isles ;

Whose baneful mess of pottage lured his people from his side, And caused his nearest Mth and kin in anger to divide. Ah, no ! his thoughts are drifting back to happier themes than these — Far back upon Life's rugged track his Maori home he sees !

Before the stranger's ruthless hand had swept the forest fair, And sent its swarthy children forth to seek a home elsewhere.

The royal kauris carry their majestic heads on high— A giant race of forest kings, whose glories never die ;

The tall and tapering remus, in stately colonades, Support the leafy canopy, beneath whose green. arcades, And draped and festooned avenues, the graceful nikau stands ; And there the queen fern marshals forth her feath'ry-eresfced bands,

The silv'ry-blossonied keroa each, hoary trunk enaheaths, And decks their highest pinnacles with quaint fantastic wreaths ; The crimson rata's brilliant crown relieves the sober green, With many another forest lord of dark and sober mien. That softened light and dreamy shade he'd hauni the whole day long,

And mark, with languid, listless ear, the tui's rippling song. In yonder wild, sequestered spot a the nestling liapu smiles Upon the creek that dashes forth, from out the dark defiles,

That rift the rugged mountains' breast — whose hoary summits reign

In silent grandeur, high above the ever-verdant plain ; The crystal creek meanders on beneath the kowhai's shade,

Past many a waste of fern and flax, through many a sylvan glade, Till far away, in deep lagoons, its slackening waters creep Into the flashing line that marks the boundary of the deep ; And many a fondly cherished spot his dying "visions greet, From that dark and mystic portal, where Death and warrior meet. For, revelling Fancy, uncontrolled by Reason's hand, holds sway, Invoking back the forms of those who long have passed away : He hears the silv'ry laughter of the dark- eyed maidens ring, And listens to the haka wild his old companions sing ; He stands a gallant chieftain's son, amid the warlike throng, Or treads the featlv war-dance with five hundred warriors strong ;

He marks his people rally round their chieftain, as of jore, To hurl the white invader back by river, lake, or shore ; Their thrilling war-cry rings again, the startled forest through, As dashes forth, with measured chant, the gallanfe war-canoe ! His fleeting soul enraptured turns upon Life*B utmost strand, To take one lingering, wistful look, at fading Maoriland ; And as the hand of Death weighs down his sad and weary eyes, The sacred huia echoes back the night wind's mournful sighs. "IP T? 9F They say the grand old Maori race is disappearing fast — That soon their name and language will have merged into the past ; Howe'er, the ruling hand of Pate may trace their chequered lot :

The Maori's name, the Maori's fame, will never be forgot,

'Tis stamped on river, mount, and lake, each sunny island through ; From Teketimo's southern heights, to Tapue-ae-Hereru, The sad Waikato's mournful dirge their story shall revive, And Tongariro muffled sobs shall keep their name alive. Kangahoo, Kere Kere, Feb. 22, 1885.