2.

See, see you the glare,
0 Riri, the glare?—
How the flames leap in air,
Blocdlstaining the leaden-hued murkiness scowling
O'er the high Western hills where the tempests arc howling.
Paparata, Wainúku, with thunderclouds growling?—
—No fire, no flashes.
Erelong shall be there,
No life-spark or love-light on mountain—in vale;
Not a sound of despair,
Sob of wail-
But the blackness of ashes,
The silence of Death,
Over Mókoi-ahía.