rs
To deck themselves, and all the fruitful earth
Was robbed of its delights for beauty's sake.
Before the feasting Chief Akau rose,
Grave and majestic, for the evening prayer;
Pouring libation from the kava bowl
In a deep silence, to the gods he cried,

"Take of our offering, O you mighty gods,
Look on this people kindly, let them prosper
In health and increase. Let the fecund ground
Grant us, your creatures, life to serve you well.
Take of our offering, O you gods of war,
Let men be brave and triumph in your name.
Take of our offering, O you gods of sea,
Spare us your wrath, and in your might depart
Along the ocean to some far off shore.
Take of our offering, all you mighty gods."

The feasting ended, round the fires they gathered,
Wise aged men telling anew their tales
Of youth, sweet purposeless youth which dreams of stars
The while it gathers weeds--of battles dire.
Their thin cold blood warmed with grim memories
Of gods they told, of goddesses with hair
Streaming across the sunset, and of dear
Women long dead, and then the maidens came,
Singing their little songs. One sang of love:

"The breath of spring is in his hair,
He needs no crimson necklaces
To win the favor of the fair.

"The full moon leaned to kiss his eyes,
The fairies brought him purple flowers,
The flowers of love, and made him wise.

"The maidens die for his disdain,
His heart strikes silver lightning,
Their warm tears stir the flowers like rain.

"The breath of love is in his hair,
He needs no crimson necklaces
To win the fairest of the fair."

Another sang of the sad mothers, lone
In their dark homes at evening, while beyond
The limitless twilight on some field of war
Their hearts lie dead.

"O my men, my men!
Keen in the rain and sunshine
For glorious splendid deeds,
You are gathered as idle weeds.

"O my men, my men!
The mighty gods were jealous,
Your virtues shone like a star;
The enemy came from afar!

"O my men, my men!
Vengeance shall follow soon,
Your people shall blast the foe
Or ever the cold winds blow.

"O my men, my men!
My life is an empty shell,
No one has heard my moan,
I sit in the dark alone."

Then of the gods they sang,--a moonlight song:

"Sleep, O soft little winds,
Restless whispering grass,
Reeds of the water-ways sway not,
Sleep, that the gods may pass.

"Deepen, you dreams of the sleeper