1.

The clashing of Tempests!
The tumult of Tempests!
To the West and the North
On their terrible path
They are rioting forth;
And they crash altogether in a whirlwind of wrath
Against the high fortress that bristles and towers
In the midst of the torn Rotorua. How cowers
The scared Lake!—how it shrieks—do you hear it?
As the lightnings spear it,
And savagely chase
In the race
Of affright
The mad-fleeing flakes of the wind-levelled spray;
Or shrivel, in flame-sheets how blindingly bright,
Black tangible night
To blue hideous day!—
O the clashing, the flashing, the tumult, the jar,
Of the gathered confederate tempests of War
Over Mókoi-ahía!

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.

3.

Come forth, my Canoe,
My glorious Canoe!—
Right over the war-boats of Tangi,
Right over their gunwales though fiercely they strive,
Thou shall drive, thou shalt drive,
While the paddle-beat foam-waves enwreathe us, ha! ha!—
Resistless—remorseless—right onward—no check—
Thou shalt tread down and trample each plunging wreck!
Thou shall ride
In thy pride
O'er its hollow inside,
While the hissing wave fills it beneath us, ha! ha!—
O my tearing, all-daring, unsparing Canoe—
page 356 O the might,
The delight
Of your conquering crew!—
What a tustle shall wait them,
A triumph elate them,
A blood-revel sate them,
At Mókoi-ahía!

4.

Weave the great Chain—
The great living Chain!—
Over hill, over plain,
Round and round, high and low,
It shall go, it shall go,
The beleaguering Chain round the Fort of the foe:—
I-ará! I-ará!—
Firm shoulder to shoulder, every inch of the ground—
Strongly woven—well-knit—all the links true and sound—
Around and around shall the great Chain be wound!
High and low
It shall go
Round the fear-smitten foe!—
Soft-stealing—close-hemming—all-stemming—death—
dealing—
O the leaguer of heroes
At Mókoi-ahía!

5.

How fretful the cries,
The plaintive wild cries
Of crimson-billed terns when in bright azure weather
They flock wheeling in from all parts of the skies.
Confusedly fluttering and huddling together
page 357 To dabble and scramble for food in the water!—
Rotorua's proud islet shall see such a muster;
From the regions all round so our victims shall cluster!
So shall they
On that day
Crowd in helpless array,
So be gathered at once all together for slaughter!
Wild-crying—no flying—all dying—no trace
Of their race
Shall be left on earth's face!—
Thus our foes shall be crushed
And the battle-roar hushed
Over Mokoi-ahía!—

Such was the purport of the measured roar,
A warrior-crowd by Rotorua's shore
From time to time across is waters flung,
Their wild excitement growing as they sung.
The song foreshadowed vengeance long-desired;
Visions of victory hate and hope inspired—
But vengeance doubtful—victory yet to win.
One singer fierce in savage solo first,
Within the space the circling throng left clear,
Darting about with madly brandished spear,
The ranting wild war-ditty would begin;
Then as they all struck in, the chorus strong,
Now full and furious, with a sea-like burst
Of guttural thunder grandly rolled along;
Now at the war-ehaunt's pauses, interspersed
Its short harsh sighs of deep-lunged expiration,
Such as a pavier in a London street
Gives when his ponderous hammer strikes the stones;—
All panting forth in unison complete
page 358 Hoarse harmony of heartfelt execration!
Crash after crash of deep earthshaking groans,
Whose echoes through the folded mountains tore—
Escaping monsters, plunging on to hide
In their recesses; nor even then forbore
Rut far and farther off faint bellowings plied.