I

Before the faint wide smile of dawn, so wan
And grey, to steal up Night's sad face began,
Crammed in canoes bold Whetu-riri's host
With favouring breeze had to Mokoia crossed.
With hearts high-beating to the strand they spring.
Each band behind its Chief; without a check
Hasten through grove and garden—many a bed,
That late in such luxuriant neatness spread,
Of melons, maize and taro—now a wreck.
The outer palisades the foremost reach;
Take the positions prearranged for each;
And close around the Fort, a swarming ring:—
Then—as no challenge came—no warrior stirred,
And not a sound about the Fort was heard;
At once, like one—six hundred throats or more
Sent thundering skyward such a sea-like roar
As old Mokoia never heard before:

"How long, how long
Will your courage sleep?
When will it wake from its slumber deep.
When will your fury be fierce and strong?—
page 375 O but the tide it murmurs low,
Low and slow
Beginning to creep;
'Twill be long
'Twill be long
Ere it roar on the shore
In the strength of its flow

Take with spirits heavy-laden,
Take your leave of wife and maiden;
Press, ha! press in last embraces
To your own their weeping faces!
Press them paling,
Weeping, wailing—
All your efforts unavailing!
for see, for see,
The brave and the strong
At your gateways throng!
See, see, how advancing in lines victorious,
All your efforts scouting, scorning,
To the fort you lurk dismayed in,
Brave and strong
We tramp along!
Ha! we come! exulting, glorious
As those mountain-summits hoary!
Proud as mountain-peaks arrayed in
The magnificence of Morning
We come for glory—glory—glory!
We come! we come!—"

Stern—silent—in determined mood
Within those loop-holed walls of wood,
Alert, be sure, old Tangi stood;
page 376 He and his stalwart warriors true,
Alert, well-armed and watchful too!
Each short sharp-edged batoon of stone
Grass-green, or white of polished bone,—
That from the hand no foe might wring
The weapon at close grips—was bound
With thongs each sinewy wrist around;
But loose the long-armed axe was left,
Both hardwood blade and pointed heft—
A dagger, or an axe to swing,
Just as the warrior thrust or cleft.
The precious muskets, rude and few,
Their blunted flints well-chipped anew,
All primed and cocked, were pointing through
The palisades, behind whose breast
Keen, eager, fierce, the clansmen pressed,
Like wild-beasts waiting for a spring.
But yet no tongue the stillness broke,
No shout of wild defiance woke;
For to that threatening, thundering strain,
The sole reply the Chief would deign
Was one brief proverb, as his hand
Waved silence to his eager band;
And that firm lip, comprest before,
A haughty smile contemptuous wore;
" Ay, come!" he growled—" come on to shell
Cockles on Kátikáti's shore! "
That long-disputed dangerous land,
As every Maori knew so well,
Fit for no tool but spear and brand;
On whose contested sands and rocks,
Who came got nothing but hard knocks;
For, plucked from that long home of strife
page 377 A limpet might have cost a life!
Hence grown a gibe for all who set
Their hearts on gain they ne'er would get.

But soon as Tangi's taunt was flung,
And while the roar redoubled rung,
The assailing ranks disparting wide,—
There forward rushed—-a gloomy wood,
In doubtful light the dawning gave,
It seemed, or some great tidal wave!
A hundred of the bravest brave
Swept darkling up in order good;
Each in his left hand holding high
A bundle huge of brushwood dry
And withered fern that hid him quite—
Him and the fire-brand in his right.
Against the fort their heaps they piled,
And soon the flames were raging wild;
For still the breeze that brought them o'er
Blew freshly from the further shore.
It lighted up, that sudden glare,
The fort—the shore—the swarming, bold,
Blue, ghastly faces writhing there
With wrath and frenzy uncontrolled!
The fern became a mass of fire,
A brilliant yeast of surging gold;
And whirling darkly from the pyre
The smoke in russet volumes rolled,
With showers of sparks and frond and spray
Red-hot, or floating filmy-grey.
Old Tangi, Ranolf, and his train
Of warriors strove, and strove in vain
page 378 To heave the blazing heaps aside;
No naked limbs or clothed could bide
That heat—no lungs could long sustain.
The smoke that, blinding, stifling, dense,
Drove ever thicker through the fence.
So forced from that first outwork, they
With teeth that gnashed in scornful rage,
And shouts of fury, burst away
Leaping and clambering up to wage
The fight upon a higher stage;
Headlong as alligators bounce
With water-snakes and bull-frogs harsh,
Out of some rank rush-covered marsh,
In river-depths to plunge and flounce—
In Hayti or the Isle made glad
With springs perennial crystal-fed—
When some crab-hunting negro-lad
Has fired their reedy crackling bed.

II

Then wild with joy the 'Angry Star,'
At this success—the first the war
Vouchsafed his arms-—let loose again
His rampant pride, his boastful vein.
By fear, by prudence undebarred,
Up to the fence, black, tottering, charred—
(His feet,—with green flax-sandals shod
Prepared for this, the reeking sod
And glowing embers safely trod)
He bounded; took his dauntless stand
With granite-headed axe in hand
Beneath it, and began to rain
A shower of blows with might and main,
page 379 As each had been his last for life,
On crumbling post and crashing stake,
Broad entrance for his band to make.
There—bellowing loud his battle-song,
His favourite song in such a strife;
While all the less adventurous throng,
Save six or eight who lent their aid,
Until the breach might be essayed,
A more respectful distance kept;—
Less man than frenzied fiend of hell,
He raved and roared and danced and leapt
And right and left his weapon swept—
A blow at every leap and yell—
Against that smoking citadel;

"Hit out, hit out
My battle-axe stout!
Ha, ha! you should tell
The sound of it well,
How it played
Long ago
On your crashing stockade!
Do you know,
Do you know
Who your foe may be?
Prick your ears up and hark
Or come if you dare,
I-ará! if you dare
Come out and see!
Wheturiri!—'tis he.
Whose eyeballs glare
Red stars in the dark!
'Tis he! 'tis he!—
page 380 Hit away—hit away,
My battle-axe gay!
Hit out—hit out,
My warriors stout!
The dastards rout
And Victory shout—
I-ará! I-ará!"—

Now all upon that windward side
The fallen fence left passage wide,
And Wheturiri's raging host
The ditch and barrier swiftly crossed;
While Tangi's men retreating, threw
Themselves inside the rampart new;
And as the palisades they passed
Made every sliding panel fast,
Till round the fort the assailant horde
Upon the second platform poured.
Then out—unable to restrain
His pent-up wrath, his fierce disdain,
Or patient wait his foes' attack;
With all his bravest at his back,—
Just as the glorious Sun again
Slipped silvery from the mountains black
With panting disc upfloating free—
Out rushed at last the 'Wailing Sea '
In wild ferocious majesty,
His battle-cry resounding loud
Above the tumult of the crowd!
"Now, forward, now, my Sons with me—
Now forward to the Land of Death.!—"
That shout o'er all the hubbub swelled
page 381 Of casual shots and bulwarks felled,
And stakes that crashed and fiends that yelled,
Distinct, as from the midnight's core,
Where leaps the blue sheet-lightning's blaze
And hissing rains in torrents pour,
The dread Caffrarian lion's roar,
That shakes the earth to which he lays
His head and thunders—rises o'er
And deeper-volumed rolls beneath
The angry bellowings that disclose
Where stamp, upstarting from repose
Whole herds of snorting buffaloes!
Where'er that Chieftain charged, dismayed
His foes fell back like huddling sheep
The wild-dog drives into a heap;
Or brief the fight the brave essayed:
So deadly swept on as he rushed
His ponderous battle-axe's blade;
Each chief who his encounter stayed
Just met him, and with right arm crushed
Disabled from the contest slunk;
Or down at once scarce groaning sunk
With cloven skull and quivering trunk.
—The Angry Star, for all his boast,
Not yet the veteran's path had crossed,
But, as it seemed, preferred to close
With less renowned, less dangerous foes;
Or had a craftier game to play
More sure than such a doubtful fray.
So still resistless through the fight
Old Tangi raged; still rose on high
O'er all the noise that battle-cry,
" Now forward to the realms of Night!"—
page 382 Yet still, for numbers beaten back
Fresh numbers pressed the fierce attack;
The platform mounted—haply dared
To charge the very gates, across
The bridges left upon the fosse
By Tangi, for retreat prepared.
But vain their toil—their fury vain:
No hold, no entrance could they gain—
Resisted all—repulsed or slain.

III.

Meanwhile upon another side
Young Ranolf with a trusty band
Had sallied,—when his anxious bride
Fair Amo,—who what e'er her fears
Gave no weak way to sighs and tears
But o'er her heart kept brave command,
Had to her serious brow and breast
Her hero—husband—lover prest;
And prayed him, only for her sake
Be careful, or her heart would break!
But he, although his own beat fast
With strange excitement at this new
Experience, reassuring smiled
On the devoted desert-child;
And with that confidence, the glow
Of burning blood, and nerves high-strung
And braced by hardy life, bestow
On those bom brave, in health, and young—
Till death, disaster, they contemn
As things not meant, not made for them!
And hold their fortune, fate so high,
All danger they may well defy
page 383 He bade her, laughingly, rely
Upon his luck, too good by far
For him to fall in such a war!
Then sallied with his friends, where they
As older warriors, led the way.
With no ferocious wish to slay,
No savage thirst for blood, at first
Our generous youngster only chose
To use his deadlier weapon more
To save his friends than harm his foes.
And when increased the wild uproar,
And more intense the tustle grew,
Himself with wild delight he threw
Into the press as it had been
Some headlong, jovial, schoolboy scene,
?King-seal-ye!'—football—any game
Might more than usual daring claim.

While thus engaged, it chanced the youth
Full upon Wheturiri came;
And with a moment's shock, in truth,
That back his blood's quick current sent,
Found his revolver's barrels spent!
Himself, in fact, unarmed, before
The Chief who down upon him bore,
But paused until he joyful saw
The pistol never raised to fire;
Then out his tongue was thrust—his jaw
Aside—his eyes turned back—his face
Distorted with the grim grimace,
His sign of hate, defiance, ire;
High whirled his axe for one sure blow
To lay his helpless victim low.
page 384 But Ranolf rallying swift as light
Or lightning, leaping forward, dashed
(Before the axe could downward sweep)
His clenched right hand with all his might
And the momentum of his leap,
Full into that grimacing grin;
And made the astonished savage spin,—-
While fast his rolling eyeballs flashed
With other gleams than fury lent—
Clean o'er the ditch's sheer descent
Amid the smouldering stakes that crashed
Beneath him as he headlong went,
Wondering what demon could assist
The weight of that hard English fist—
" Kapai! ka NUI pai!—Well done!
O right well done!" a hoarse voice cried—
Old Tangi's—at his topmost run
As rushing round the palisade
That brief encounter he espied,
And hastened to the young man's aid.
—A griesly sight in sooth was he
That huge exulting Chief to see,
As there with lowered axe he stood
And Whetu's smashing fall surveyed!
From his broad axe-blade dripped and drained
The blood; and all with hostile blood
His hoary hair and beard were stained;
With drops of fierce exertion rained
His brow; his chest—so rugged, vast,
And muscle-woven like the twist
Of cable-cords some olive rears,
Some mighty trunk eight hundred years
Have seen in rocky strength resist
page 385 Their rending frost and raging heat;
Like some great engine working fast,
That knotty chest quick-heaving beat
So stood the Giant in his glee
In friendly hideous ecstasy
! But scarce could toil or triumph check
His course an instant; on he went
(As Ranolf leaving clear his road
Back to the barrier stepped to load)
On towards his prostrate breathless prey
That fallen Star,—with fell intent
To dash his life out where he lay.
But ere he reached him, to his feet
Up sprung Te Whetu, bold, erect—
Though still his blue-lined face streamed red
With that well-planted blow's effect;
At first prepared his foe to meet;
But seemed an instant to reflect;
That tough encounter seemed to dread;
Then shouting bade his men retreat,
And o'er the flat, deliberate, fled.
Swift passed the word from man to man
And swiftly leaping down they ran
On all sides from the leagueved fort.
Three steps to follow, Tangi took,
With glad but half-astonished look;
And then in full career stopped short;
Smiled sternly with disdainful lip;
And pulling with his finger-tip
His under-eyelid down in scorn
"Is this your mutton-fish! Am I
Your greenhorn I" was his haughty cry;
For all the plan was patent then,
page 386 To draw him to the open plain,
Where his slight force though stanch and good,
No chance against their numbers stood.
So, with the crowd though onward borne
A moment, bark he forced his men;
Bade them for very shame restrain
Their shouts of 'Victory,' yet to gain;
And soon had all except the slain
Safe in the fort, to counsel there
How best they might the wall repair—
How best to meet—forestall—defeat,
The next assault their foes might dare.

IV.

Short breathing time the Angry Star
Gave Tangi, nor retreated far.
Soon as he saw his feint to draw
The veteran from his Fort had failed,
Again he marshalled all his band
Upon the flat beside the shore.
Then with a new device though planned
Before, with hearts and hopes new-fanned,
And by the cunning Priest beguiled
With omens sure and safe, once more
The stubborn stronghold they assailed.
With songs and yells and gestures wild
In swarms across the ditch they swept;
In swarms the broken barrier leapt;
Once more by casual shots annoyed
Around the platform swift deployed.
Again—scarce waiting their attack—
The fiery Chief, whom neither age
page 387 Nor odds, nor toil made slow or slack,
Had sallied forth to force them back,
Or hand-to-hand at least engage
The first who scaled that fighting-stage.
So all the terrace circling round
The ramparts, as before, was crowned
With thronging men in deadly broil
O'erthrown—o'erthrowing; a dark coil
Convulsive, fluctuating, dense,
Of agonising forms confused,
In every violent posture used
In mad attack or lough defence!
A mass of spears and clubs that crossed
And clashed, and limbs that twined and tossed,
As leathery links of seaweed lithe
At ebbing tide on rock-reefs writhe:
And all the forms and limbs exact
In statuesque proportions cast—
Dark symmetry of strength compact;
Where working muscles rose and fell
With shifting undulations, fast
As poppling wavelets when the breeze
The tiderip grates in narrow seas!
Till all that ring of wrestlings rife,
Continuous knots of naked strife,
Had seemed, to looker-on at ease,
Some crowded Phigaleian frieze,
Or Parthenaic miracle
Of Art, awaked to sudden life—
Or worked in terra-cotta, say,
Brown Lapithae in deadly fray;
Large-limbed Theseian heroes old,
But darkly dyed, of kindred race,
page 388 Vhose naked forms of classic mould
One wide-raging death-embrace
Their naked struggling foes enfold.

But when the fight was at its height
His new device Te Whether tried.
Up-rushed a shouting band outside
The black-charred fence before kid low.
In order good, a double row
They came; each warrior of the first
Poising a platted green-flax sling
Well wetted in the nearest spring;
And in the sling a red-not stone,
Which, high above the ramparts thrown
Should soon make such a blaze outburst
From walls of rush and roofs of thatch
As might the whole defences catch,
And force the stifled foe to fly
The Fort he held so stubbornly.
The second rank bore, close behind,
In baskets green with earth safe-lined,
Of heated stones a fresh supply.
A burning volley, thick and hot
As soft red lumps of scoria whirl,
In showers from dark abysses shot
By old Vesuvius in his play,
His common freaks of every day,
When all his lava floods repose:
Or such as o'er his creviced snows
The grander Tongariro throws—
While dread reverberations round
His sulphurous crater-depths resound—
page 389 When all the solemn midnight skies
With that red beacon of surprise
He startles—seeming from afar,
Though low upon the horizon's bound,
Sole object in the vault profound
! So baleful glares its fiery shine,
To all the tribes an ominous sign
Of death and wide disastrous war.
—Now, now, alert and active be,
Ye children of the 'Wailing Sea!'
Your shifty foes will else make good
The threats erelong thatt boastful song
Sent echoing late o'er vale and wood!
—Not wholly unprepared they speed
To baulk and baffle, if they may
Their fierce assailant's fresh essay.
For they had seen above the green
The smoke of fires lit up when need
Was none of fires for warmth or food;
And soon the project understood.
So all the gourds they could provide
Were ready, every house beside;
And even a large canoe to be
Their tank in this extremity
Hauled up and fitly placed;—all filled
With water from a well, supplied
Itself by channels issuing through
The rock upon the Lake, below
Its surface cut; their outlet so
From keenest-eyed besiegers' view
Well-hidden by its waters blue.
And when that shower of firestones red
Came whirling, whizzing overhead,
page 390 For this vocation primed and drilled,
All those whom duty did not call
To watch the gates, defend the wall
—The old by age outworn, the young
With sinews yet for fight unstrung—
And young or old, the women too,
With Arnohia first of all,—
Quick to the calabashes flew
Or tottered as they best could do.
And when the slightest whiff of smoke
From any roof or rush-wall broke,
Some hand was prompt the place to drench
And ere it spread, the burning quench.
But Amo, first among the crowd,
With cheery accents, low not loud,
As if at once their hearts to warm
To effort, yet repress alarm—
With smiles upon her face—howe'er
Her heart might throb with secret care
Seemed ever everywhere at hand,
To guide, encourage, cheer, command!
And once when fire broke out indeed
And none just then appeared to heed,
Nor quick enough the water came—
Up to the roof she leapt, she sprung,
And o'er the thatch her mantle flung,
And trampled out the mounting flame.—
With arms and that firm bosom bare,
In skirt of glossy flax, as there
Aloft in such excited mood
Hurrying her hastening handmaids, stood
The dauntless Girl—she looked as rare
For spirit, grace, commanding mien,
page 391 As loveliest Amazonian Queen
In those surpassing friezes seen!

V.

But while this passed upon the hill
The tight below was raging still;
And that resistless 'Wailing Sea'
At last had met the enemy
Whose death the most, of all the heap
Of slaughter his remorseless blade
That day, a bloody harvest, made,
The haughty Veteran cared to reap.
With satisfaction stern and deep
To feel his foe within his power,
He hurled—through clenching teeth that ground,
As if with grim resolve that hour
Should be the last of both or one,
And see the hateful contest done—
Defiance at "the slave—the hound!"
Then rushed upon him with a shower
Of blows of such terrific power
And weight and swiftness, left and right—
The Angry Star, who tried in vain
The pelting tempest to sustain,
Was backward borne in self-despite,
Parrying the blows as best he might;
Ducking his head from side to side
Like tortured tree that scarce can bide
The beating of a gusty gale.
But Tangi's breath begins to fail,
The driving biows at length relax;
Less swiftly whirls his battle-axe;
And Whetu in his turn attacks;
page 392 But stalking round and round his foe
And watching where a blow to plant,
As runs a Tiger crouching low
Around some wary Elephant,
For chance, with viewless lightning-spring,
His weight to launch upon the haunch
Of the dread monster, and escape
The white destruction that in shape
Of those impaling tusks still gleams
Before him—still to face him seems
Turn where his eyes' green lustres may!
So watched Te Whetu when to fling
Himself upon that warrior grey;
So round him plied his swinging stride;
Then flew at him with yell, and blow
'Twas well for Tangi, eye and hand
Were quick enough to slant aside—
And tough enough his battle-brand
Its sweeping fury to withstand.
Then such a whirling maze began
Of clattering weapons—stroke and guard
And feint and parry, thrust and ward,
As up and down the axes ran
Together, that no sharpest eye
Could follow their rapidity!
But Tangi, see! has clutched at last
Te Whetu by a necklace fast
The boastful savage ever wore
Of warriors' teeth, a ghastly wreath—
And twists it hard his foe to choke,
And shortens for a final stroke
His axe's hold—but fails once more—
The treacherous chain beneath the strain
page 393 Breaks, scattering wide the hideous beads.
Hack springs Te Whetu—free again,
The deadly strife may still maintain:
Close follows Tangi; mad to be
Baulked of so sure a victory,
The road beneath him little heeds:
His step upon a spot is set
Where the hard clay is slippery wet
With gore; he slips—he stumbles o'er
A wounded wretch unseen who lies
Right in his path, on crimsoned stones
And dust that chokes a ruddy rill
Slow-creeping but increasing still—
Lies in the pathway there—with eyes
That anguished roll, heartrending groans,
And writhings like a centipede's
Caught in a burning log—and bleeds.
Down, down the Giant goes before
His Foe, who now began to rave
With joy at this unwonted run
Of luck his favouring Atuas gave!
Ere Tangi—old—with toil o'erdone—
Could raise him from his heavy fall,
He whirled his poleaxe high to end
Him and his triumphs, once for all.—
The blow was never to descend;
For at that instant at full speed
Up Ranolf ran to save his friend:
There was no time for thought, nor need:
Three balls in swift succession sent
Through Whetu's body crashing went
Down drops his axe—his arms up thrown—
His eyes a moment wildly glare,
page 394 Then glaze with fixed and ghastly stare;
His staggering knees give way,—and there
He lies a corpse without a groan!
A pang smote Ranolf—though he knew
There was nought else for him to do.
Slowly rose Tangi; dauntless still;
And half-disposed to take it ill
That Ranolf 's shot his debt should pay
And from his clutches snatch his prey.

VI.

But when Te Whetu's men beheld
Their Angry Star, their hero, slain;
And Tangi up again, unquelled,
With such triumphant fierce disdain
Looking where next to dash among
The thickest of the wavering throng;—
Beheld that Stranger's bearing bold,
And-in his firm determined hold
His life-devouring weapon raised;
A terror seized the nearest band—
Who since the duel first began
Had breathless stood on either hand,
Inactive; wondering, half-amazed
What would the conflict's issue be
'Twixt 'Angry Star' and 'Wailing Sea '—
Through all the host the panic ran:
Down from the platform headlong leapt
The foremost fighting-men, and swept
Along with them the slingers too
And all the pebble-carrying crew!
Then Tangi, for he saw the rout
page 395 Was real this time, began to shout
To all his clansmen to come out,
Pursue and press the flying foe,
And smite and spare not high or low—
No glut of dear revenge forego!
But short his course—his triumph short;
For as he turned him—and addrest
To those behind a brief behest
That some should stay to guard the fort,
A bullet pierced his rugged breast,
Out of a near plantation fired
By some obscure assailant, hid
Behind a fence—ensconced amid
The rattling stems of withered maize—
A parting gift ere he retired;
'Twas Marupo, so named to mark
His ways—the 'Striker in the Dark.'—
Down sinks the Chieftain—to the ground
Bowed down by that slight-seeming wound;
Yet makes fierce efforts still to raise
The fainting form one elbow stays:
Still keeps erect that dizzying head,
And lifts the arm that weighs like lead,
And feebly cries a battle-cry
Of Vengeance and of Victory:
Still cheers with broken words and brief
His men, with horror struck and grief
To see, thus fall'n, their honoured Chief;
But most exhausts his gasping breath
In bidding them avenge his death
By such a havoc of his foes
As shall illume where'er it goes
The tale of his inglorious close.
page 396 His life-blood ebbing, thus he steeled
His old brave heart, nor yet would yield
To be transported from the field;
Less heeding death than this disgrace
To fall by hand obscure or base;
Cursing the coward tools that gave
Such easy power to every slave
To slay the foe he durst not face!—
But while the most his hest obeyed,
With Ranolf some about him stayed;
And with their sturdy tender aid,
The Chief whom nothing could persuade,
But senseless could resist no more,
Into the nearest house he bore.

VII.

Meantime among the host that fled
And few that followed, quickly spread
The rumour Tangi too was dead;
And of the fugitives ahead
The foremost and least scared began
To make their comrades as they ran
Note their pursuers—far and few—
Their own o'erwhelming numbers too.
They pause—they turn; collect in knots
About the ruined garden-plots;
Not unobserved of him, in place
Of Tangi now who led the chase,
A wary warrior 'Máwai' named;—
'Máwai—the Gourd'—because far-famed
For many a crafty deep design
By sap and trench and secret mine
page 397 For creeping into forts—unstayed
By tallest post and palisade;
As sure, though unperceived and slow,
As over fences high or low
That creeping climbing gourd will grow;
Máwai amid the shrubs and trees
The foe in clusters rallying sees:
So shouts the danger out to all
His headlong comrades within call;
Rates—reasons—threats—entreats and makes
All whom his step or voice o'ertakes
Keep more together—rest content
Just now at least with what was done,
The vengeance taken—-victory won.
And thus, with caution, by degrees,
And often turning as they went
As if to ferret out and slay
Chance fugitives that hiding lay—
So that a front they still present
To that recovering enemy
In crowds tumultuous hovering nigh,
And make him doubt their true intent-—
The scanty band of victors back
To their intrenchments take their way—
Their fort, unconquered still, though black
And reeking from the late attack.