I.

Then Amohia, who, her story ended,
Had left the group, returned, not unattended,
A sturdy stripling by her side,
Te Manu, to herself by blood allied,
Coal-curled, brown-cheeked, with beardless chin—
Good-humour broadly shining in his wide
Black eyes and teeth white-glistening through a grin—
Came from the beach where the canoe was tied,
And on the ground before the Stranger placed,
That he the first might touch and taste,
In flax-wov'n basket for a dish,
A dainty pile of delicate fish
In native style deliriously steam-drest,
Like whitebait some; some boiled bright red,
The small cray-fish in myriads bred,
With sunk fern-bundles lifted from the Lake:
Next, roasted fern-root pounded to a cake,
Milk white and floury; and the choicer routs.
The new potato and its substitutes,
The kùmara and taro Then a store
Of jellies, ruddy-clear as claret, pressed
And well preserved from fruits last season bore,
page 132 Rich clusters of tupáki, luscious sweet;
With water mixed their noontide thirst to slake,
An innocent beverage truly! Rude the light Repast,
and simply wholesome at the best;
Yet scrupulously clean withal, it might
Have satisfied a more fastidious guest.