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Musings in Maoriland
Waiaronui
Waiaronui.
Up northwards, near Waikato's spreading plains,
A crystal mirror shimmers 'monof the hills,
And sunbeams dance upon its breast to strains
Of forest music; bell-birds, tuis, rills,
All blend their voices with the magic sounds
The whisp'ring reeds and rushes softly make,
Where playful wood-sprites have their pleasure-ground,
When Spring is young and Summer is awake;
Volcanic giants, born of fire and flood,
As guardians stand around the calm retreat
When all the scene is tinted with the blood
Of dying day, then is the silver sheet
O'erlaid with nameless glories,—then the bloom
Of korimiko groves seems richer, and aglow
The rata flushes, and the sweet perfume,
That floats from where the rich tawhirris grow,
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"When night has set
Her sable-silver lunar trace
On calm
Waiaronui's face,
a swift canoe is seen to glide.
Embalms the sunset treasures as they fall
And melt upon the lake's clear bosom deep,
When twilight's tints are stealing over all,
And o'er the waters weird-like shadows creep;
When all the changeful colours of the eve—
Pink, violet, and purple—fade away,
With crimson, gold and amber, but to leave
The scene enwrapp'd in folds of sombre grey.
Oh, lovely, lucid lake! how few who know
The story that is thine! for few intrude
Upon thy stillness; thy sad tale of woe
Hath made thee now a sacred solitude.
From Pakeha defiler thou art free—
Thy nameless beauties he hath never known;
The Maori's mana1 still is over thee:
Sweet solitude, he claims thee as his own.
But why shouldst thou be Tabu2? why shouldst thou
Hide all thy beauties, all thy splendid charms?
Why should the Pakeha, with spade and plough,
Not change thy woodlands into smiling farms?
Give up thy secret—say what strange romance
Hangs over thee, Waiaronui? Ah!
Methinks I see fierce braves, with spears, advance
Unto thy peaceful shores from distant Pa.
"Revenge! Revenge!" and "Blood!" these are their cries.
1 Sway.
2 Sacred.
I know thy story now—a tale of grief—
A narrative of sorrows and of sighs;
'Twas thus I heard it from an aged chief:
A summer's night—the witching noon—
The big, round, ripe, uncovered moon
Displays her form in full; her light
Streams down in showers of silver bright
On lakes, and bays, and river floods,
And brooks that wander through the woods;
But brighter than on other streams
She spreads to-night her silver beams
On broad Waikato—famed in song—
The nurse of heroes fierce and strong—
The cradle of ten thousand braves,—
Tawhaki,1 guard thy swelling waves!
At least, to-night, Tawhaki, we
Look up and pray for help from thee.
To-night Waikato's waters bear
A noble freight; and who shall dare
To stay Te Raupa's swift canoe?
See! how he works his paddle true,
1 A powerful god.
And toils as if it were a race
For life. Behold ! he turns his face—
His eagle eyes are gazing back
As if some foe were on his track.
What can his hurried glances bode?
Te Raupa has a precious load—
Maroti's only daughter. See!
She stands beside her warrior! he
Has risked his life—impulsive youth—
To prove his love; his soul, in truth,
Was wedded unto hers for years.
But, heedless of her sighs and tears,
Her sire, Maroti, heartless stood—
He hated all her lover's brood—
And swore that if her brave came nigh
His whare, lovers both should die.
But Love's fierce passion, warm and true,
Will urge a man to dare and do
Deeds which, in calmer times, would seem
Impossible. Oh! precious dream
Of transient joy and nameless bliss,
The ecstasy of one sweet kiss
From lips we prize sets all aglow
The god-sparks in our frames, and so
The narrow self within us dies,
And nobler inspirations rise!
We live in those we love, and they
Exist in us—ray blends with ray—
Till one rich beam illumes two clods
With all the fire of all the gods.
Te Raupa's love was quenchless; he
Adored the fond Kearoa; she
Look'd up to him, her heart's first lord—
The god she worshipp'd and adored.
Nay, Pakeha, turn not away
In scornful pity; do not say
That love like hers was vile and vain,
And worship such as hers profane.
The gods her fathers bowed to sank
In all that graces godhead's rank
To nothingness when placed beside
Her youthful chief—her joy and pride.
He fear'd not danger, knew not fear;
And, to secure a prize so dear,
He scal'd her father's Pa, and caught
His loved one in his arms, and brought
Her safely o'er the fortress stakes
Unnoticed; then, through swamps and brakes,
They reached the river's edge, where lay
His swift canoe, and then away
The youthful lovers floated free
Upon the river's breast; and we
Are watching their approach. They speed
By slender rush and plumed reed,
And now the noble warrior steers
Into a wooded bend. "What, tears,
Kearoa? do not weep nor sigh;
Our journey soon shall end, and I
Shall give to thee a home so fair
That spirits up in Reinga1 there
Shall envy thee, my soul, my life,
Rich blossom of my hope, sweet wife.
All that I have, and all I hold,
Shall there be thine; now let me fold
Thy matchless form unto my heart,
To kiss away the pearls that start
From those deep, lustrous orbs of thine.
There, there! I've dried them; do not pine;
Thy father's love is cold compared
To that within my breast. I've dared
The terrors of his Pa for thee;
Come, come, my own love, lean on me.
Our swift canoe within this nook
We'll leave, and then up yonder brook
A little way a track there lies
Well known to me; I'll bear my prize
Along it till we reach a glade
Where echoes die and shadows fade;
From thence a lovely valley bends
Its arm around the hills, and trends
In graceful beauty to a lake,
Where waves and woods their music make,
Till leaves and ripples dance with glee
To Nature's magic minstrelsy.
1 Heaven.
From thence 'tis but a little pace
Unto the dwellings of my race;
Within my father's Pa, my sweet,
There thou shalt find a safe retreat;—
So come, Kearoa."
Then he raised
Her shapely form; she fondly gazed
With tender glance upon her chief,
For love had conquered fear and grief;
And with a graceful spring the pair
Leap'd on the velvet bank, and there
They sealed again, with one more kiss,
Their holy union. Love like this
Deserves a future fair; but Fate
Is cold and wayward oft, and hate—
Cold heartless monster—often strives
To cast a blight on loving lives.
But lo! the moon looks sad and pale
Through boughs and branches down the vale;
Kearoa and her chief have gone,
And we are here, alone, alone.
The shadows have vanished, the woods are awake
With matin and carol, with lyric and lay;
The boughs and the branches and wild blossoms shake
Their pearly perfumes on the lashes of day—
Those fringes of gold that sweep down from the east
To brush off the dew-beads. The hills are aglow
With showers of sunbeams. Oh, glorious feast!
The treasures of morning above and below
Are scattered profusely, and bountiful earth.
Displays all her charms, while her creatures rejoice;
Calm Waiaronui, a morning of mirth
Is rising o'er thee;—From thy shore floats a voice:—
"Morning on the mountains,
Brilliants on the fountains,
Dazzling in the distance, sparkling in the sun,
Dashing down the ledges,
Leaping through the sedges,
Scattering their diamond spray around them as they run.
"See! the lake is dreaming,
While the rays are streaming,
Dancing on its bosom; love of mine, awake!
Long hast thou been sleeping,
Watch have I been keeping;
Spirit of my spirit, rise, and look upon the lake!"
'Twas thus Te Raupa sang above
The sleeping form of his dear love,
Kearoa's strength had failed ere dawn,
So, seeking out a sheltered lawn
Beside the water's edge, he made
A couch for her, and gently laid
The lovely maiden there to rest,
Her head reclining on his breast.
His father's Pa was still away
Beyond the hills, where rose the day
To gild Waiaronui's flood.
Kearoa wakes. "Ah! kind and good,
Hast thou been keeping watch o'er me?
I have been dreaming, love, of thee;
And in my dream methought that I
Heard mocking kakas wail and cry
Above thy corse, and o'er thy bier;
The hungry cormorants were near;
And close by thee my father stood,
His hands died purple in thy blood.
Oh! love, it was a fearful sight."
Te Raupa laughed. "This childish fright
Is but the outcome of a dream;
Come, smile, my sweet."
A fierce wild scream
Was heard among the bushes. "Save
Thyself and me!" the startled brave
Sprang to his feet. "Too late, too late,
Son of a treach'rous dog; thy fate
Is in my hands, and thou shalt die.
Stand where thou art—thou canst not fly,
For see, my warriors are here,
Surrounding thee with axe and spear."
Te Raupa stood entrapped—no chance
To 'scape, but one: his eagle glance
Fell on the lake, upon whose bank
The plumed reeds grew thick and rank.
He whispered, "To my body cling,
Kearoa." Then, with one wild spring,
He leaped with her into the flood.
The warriors in amazement stood
A few short seconds, then they flew
Along the banks, and madly threw
Their vengeful spears into the waves
Where sank the pair. The baffled braves,
Athirst for blood, plunged headlong in;
Kearoa's father and his kin
Dived downwards, and swam round the spot
Again and then again, but not
Upon the lake a single trace
Could there be found of form or face,
Except their own; and all that day
They searched, but searched in vain, and they
Returned to tell the wondrous tale
To all their people. Many a wail
Of sorrow for Kearoa's fate
Was heard for years, and even hate
Paled into pity for the youth
Who nobly proved his love and truth
For that sweet maiden.
Stranger yet
The sequel seems:—When night has set
Her sable-silver lunar trace
On calm Waiaronui's face,
A swift canoe is seen to glide
With sweep majestic o'er the tide;
And in that strange and weird canoe
Kearoa and her lover true
Are seated. Kaka feathers red
Bedeck the youthful hero's head;
A heron's plume of snowy white—
The badge and emblem of his right—
Waves also o'er that noble brow;
And warriors, when they see him, bow,
And cry for great Tawhaki's aid.
Kearoa, too, that queenly maid,
Looks through the night with lustrous eyes
That shame the planets in the skies;
So bright are they, so full of fire,
That gazers feel a strange desire
To bask 'neath them upon the waves
For ever as love's faithful slaves.
But those who, when the moon is round,
Have heard the weird melodious sound
That floats across the lake at night,
Become bewildered with delight.
The spirit-lovers' voices ring
In strains sublime as thus they sing:
"Hope is fair,
Truth is rare—
Souls united cannot sever;
Hope may die,
Truth may fly—
Love lives on for ever.
"Faith seems sure,
Honour pure—
Wedded souls are parted never;
Faith may shake,
Honour break—
Love lives on for ever.
"Friends may range,
Friendships change,
Heroes die in vain endeavour;
Only love,
Born above,
Lives and moves for ever."
