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!