Ranolf and Amohia A dream of two lives. By Alfred Domett. New edition, revised |
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 | Ranolf and Amohia |  |
VI.
“My Child—but these are trifles to
The wondrous things our people do.—”
The wondrous things our people do.—”
He pointed toward the place where bellowing, crashing,
That fierce terrific Hotspring raged;
With monstrous head in furious foam upsoaring,
And boiling billows round the crater dashing,
Its crusted soot-brown sides like demons lashing;
Or if a moment from its maddest mood
The lapsing Geyser seemed to sink assuaged,
Mounting again amid the ceaseless roaring,
Like hissing Cobra with inflated hood
Upswelling swift—its reeking rush renewing,
With force and frenzy evermore accruing!
That fierce terrific Hotspring raged;
With monstrous head in furious foam upsoaring,
And boiling billows round the crater dashing,
Its crusted soot-brown sides like demons lashing;
Or if a moment from its maddest mood
The lapsing Geyser seemed to sink assuaged,
Mounting again amid the ceaseless roaring,
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Upswelling swift—its reeking rush renewing,
With force and frenzy evermore accruing!
“You hear,” he said, “that hell-pool dread:
What would you think if I should say
My people have the skill to yoke
The fiercest whirls of steam that ever broke
From that tremendous pit of wrath, and tether
As many moving houses gay
Behind it, as would all your tribe contain;
Then make it whisk them o'er the plain,
Aye! all your Tribe at once together,
As smoothly, rapidly as flew
The Kingfisher the other day
With chestnut breast and back so blue
That round our heads came swooping, screaming,
Because we chanced to saunter near
The barkless twisted tree-trunk (gleaming
In sunshine silver-sharp and clear
Against far purple hills) that hid
The nest wherein his young ones lay?”
What would you think if I should say
My people have the skill to yoke
The fiercest whirls of steam that ever broke
From that tremendous pit of wrath, and tether
As many moving houses gay
Behind it, as would all your tribe contain;
Then make it whisk them o'er the plain,
Aye! all your Tribe at once together,
As smoothly, rapidly as flew
The Kingfisher the other day
With chestnut breast and back so blue
That round our heads came swooping, screaming,
Because we chanced to saunter near
The barkless twisted tree-trunk (gleaming
In sunshine silver-sharp and clear
Against far purple hills) that hid
The nest wherein his young ones lay?”
“Well, but if such a word you spoke
I could but think, I could but say,
'Twas my Ranoro's whim to joke;
And on her fond reliance play
Who takes and trusts his every word,
As if an Atua's voice she heard.”
I could but think, I could but say,
'Twas my Ranoro's whim to joke;
And on her fond reliance play
Who takes and trusts his every word,
As if an Atua's voice she heard.”
“Nay; pretty one! 'tis simple fact—
No silly jest, but truth exact.”
“Well, then, my Chief, my Master dear
Shall do as I, his handmaid, bid,
And let me all the wonder hear.”
No silly jest, but truth exact.”
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Shall do as I, his handmaid, bid,
And let me all the wonder hear.”
“Your language has no words, I fear—”
“Ah, we poor Maori! worthless still,
In deeds and words, no power, no skill!—
But tell me—that tremendous flying
Is it not something dreadful, frightful
Your people tremble at, while trying?”
In deeds and words, no power, no skill!—
But tell me—that tremendous flying
Is it not something dreadful, frightful
Your people tremble at, while trying?”
“Not dreadful, dearest, but delightful—”
And then with her request complying,
“See—” he went on, as best he could, constraining
Strange words and strange ideas to fit—
Though all the interruptions we omit
Where foreign thought or phrase required explaining:—
“See! all in order ranged at hand
The moving houses ready stand;
Your tribe all ranged in order too,
Inside them sit—imagine how;
We take our places, I and you—”
And then with her request complying,
“See—” he went on, as best he could, constraining
Strange words and strange ideas to fit—
Though all the interruptions we omit
Where foreign thought or phrase required explaining:—
“See! all in order ranged at hand
The moving houses ready stand;
Your tribe all ranged in order too,
Inside them sit—imagine how;
We take our places, I and you—”
(“Yes—were I close to you as now!”—)
“Impatient frets the giant, Steam,—
You hear his wild complaining scream;
You hear him hissing ere he start
Like pinned-down Snake that strives to dart;
Then off at once! in perfect row
Swift as a lance your warriors throw,
Men, houses, all, away we go!—
Give place! give place! in silent race
The distant woods each other chase!
Trees, hedges, hamlets—far and wide,
They reel and spin, they shift and slide!
The dim horizon all alive—
Hills, plains and forests, how they drive!
Determined to keep up and see
They shoot ahead as fast as we:
But nearer objects, soon as spied,
Detach themselves and backward glide,
Behind us drifting one by one;
Wink past the others and are gone!
See! parallel field-furrows broad
That lie right-angled to the road,
Like swiftly-turning wheel-spokes play—
Turn—open—float and flit away!
More speed—more speed! and shriller cries!
The panting road begins to rise,
And like a whirling grindstone flies!
The fields close by can scarce be seen,
A swift continuous stream of green!—
You hear his wild complaining scream;
You hear him hissing ere he start
Like pinned-down Snake that strives to dart;
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Swift as a lance your warriors throw,
Men, houses, all, away we go!—
Give place! give place! in silent race
The distant woods each other chase!
Trees, hedges, hamlets—far and wide,
They reel and spin, they shift and slide!
The dim horizon all alive—
Hills, plains and forests, how they drive!
Determined to keep up and see
They shoot ahead as fast as we:
But nearer objects, soon as spied,
Detach themselves and backward glide,
Behind us drifting one by one;
Wink past the others and are gone!
See! parallel field-furrows broad
That lie right-angled to the road,
Like swiftly-turning wheel-spokes play—
Turn—open—float and flit away!
More speed—more speed! and shriller cries!
The panting road begins to rise,
And like a whirling grindstone flies!
The fields close by can scarce be seen,
A swift continuous stream of green!—
—But fix upon the scene around
A steadier glance—in how profound
A stillness seems that hamlet bound:
How solemn, in secluded meadows
Those oak trees standing on their shadows;
That church-tower wrapt in ivy-fleece,
How sacred its inviolate peace!
The riot of our wild career
Seems rushing through a land asleep
Where all things rapt—entranced, appear,
Or if they move, can only creep;
The lightest car, the heaviest wain—
(Those land-canoes, you know, we use)
And walking men whose figures plain
A moment on the eye remain,
Seem toiling backwards, all in vain!—
Then sudden—close—ere you can think,
The blackest blinding midnight seems
To make your very eyeballs shrink;
The air is dank—a hollow roar
And deeper, harsher than before
Is mingled with the Giant's screams,
As—all the houses in a row—
Right through a Mountain's heart we go!
But swiftly from the jaws of night
Emerging, screeching with delight,
Outcomes with unabated might
The Monster and pursues his flight!
In snowy stream thick-issuing flies
His furious breath across the skies:
Each labourer as the ponderous whirr,
The hammer-beats, incessant, strong,
And fast as flap of flying bird,
The monster's eager pulse, are heard,
Suspends the busy fork or prong
And turns to look, but scarce can see
The phantom, ere the rush and stir,
Men, monster, long-linked houses, we—
All smoothly thundering, tearing on,
A human hurricane—are gone!”—
A steadier glance—in how profound
A stillness seems that hamlet bound:
How solemn, in secluded meadows
Those oak trees standing on their shadows;
That church-tower wrapt in ivy-fleece,
How sacred its inviolate peace!
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Seems rushing through a land asleep
Where all things rapt—entranced, appear,
Or if they move, can only creep;
The lightest car, the heaviest wain—
(Those land-canoes, you know, we use)
And walking men whose figures plain
A moment on the eye remain,
Seem toiling backwards, all in vain!—
Then sudden—close—ere you can think,
The blackest blinding midnight seems
To make your very eyeballs shrink;
The air is dank—a hollow roar
And deeper, harsher than before
Is mingled with the Giant's screams,
As—all the houses in a row—
Right through a Mountain's heart we go!
But swiftly from the jaws of night
Emerging, screeching with delight,
Outcomes with unabated might
The Monster and pursues his flight!
In snowy stream thick-issuing flies
His furious breath across the skies:
Each labourer as the ponderous whirr,
The hammer-beats, incessant, strong,
And fast as flap of flying bird,
The monster's eager pulse, are heard,
Suspends the busy fork or prong
And turns to look, but scarce can see
The phantom, ere the rush and stir,
Men, monster, long-linked houses, we—
All smoothly thundering, tearing on,
A human hurricane—are gone!”—
| Ranolf and Amohia | |