University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Ranolf and Amohia

A dream of two lives. By Alfred Domett. New edition, revised
Domett, Alfred (1811-1887)

collapse section 
[section]
collapse section 
RANOLF AND AMOHIA:
collapse sectionI. 
VOLUME I.
  
PRELUDE.
collapse section1. 
BOOK THE FIRST. THE SAILOR-STUDENT.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. The Sea-boy.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. Will-o'-wisp-chasing.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. From Wisp to Morass.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. Terra Firma.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. Cloud-blowing.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. Land-Life or Sea-Life?
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. The Shipwreck.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section2. 
BOOK THE SECOND. THE SOUTH-SEA VILLAGERS.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. The Rescue.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. The ‘Sounding Sea.’
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. The Magician.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. A Woodland Jaunt.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. The Legend of Tawhaki.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. Mythical Cosmogonies.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. The Captive.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section3. 
BOOK THE THIRD. ALL IN A SUMMER NIGHT.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. Miroa's Tidings.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. The Song-cheered Swimming.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. The Star-lit Swimming.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. Legends of the Spirit-Land.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. Amohia at the Fountain.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. Silence and Moonlight.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. The Meeting.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse sectionII. 
VOLUME II.
collapse section4. 
BOOK THE FOURTH. A LATTER-DAY EDEN.
collapse sectionI. 
Canto the First. Flight of the Lovers.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. Miroa's Story.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. Love and Nature luxuriant.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. Trees and the Tree-God.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. The Fountain-Terraces.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. A Geyser Yoked.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. English Maidens.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section5. 
BOOK THE FIFTH. STILL IN EDEN.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. The Haunted Mountain.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. Sports on the Lake.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. The Cicada.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. A loving Questioner.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. A cheery Theorist.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. Love beats Logic.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. An airy Nest.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section6. 
BOOK THE SIXTH WAR.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. The Beleaguered Fortress.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. War needs Idealizing.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. The grand Assault.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. Fight between ‘Sounding Sea’ and ‘Angry Star.’
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. Love fed by War.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. An old wrong avenged.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
  
[section]
 VIII. 
VIII.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. Death of the ‘Sounding Sea.’
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section7. 
BOOK THE SEVENTH. SELF-SACRIFICE.
collapse section1. 
Canto the First. Weariness.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
collapse section2. 
Canto the Second. A sad Resolve.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section3. 
Canto the Third. Death of the Magician.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section4. 
Canto the Fourth. Where is Comfort?
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
collapse section5. 
Canto the Fifth. A Vision.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
collapse section6. 
Canto the Sixth. The Departure.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
collapse section7. 
Canto the Seventh. After-Experiences.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section Ranolf and Amohia
next section
120

Canto the Fourth. A loving Questioner.

1. Amo's devotion to Ranolf. 2. Asks the wise white men's opinions as to Spirits after death. 3. Materialism. 4. Amo wants Ranolf's own opinion.

I.

Still side by side the lovers rest
Afloat in that sequestered nest.
As close to Ranolf's, Amo's head
Reclined,—her silky tresses spread
Beneath—beyond his own—unrolled
In black abundance uncontrolled
To the warm and moisture-drinking air,—
A splintered sunbeam lighting there
Upon his locks of amber gleamed,
Which so contrasted—cushioned—seemed
A moon where sable soft cloud streamed,
Or golden lustrous coronet
On funeral pall of velvet set.
O'er rocks and trees, through light and shade
His curious eyes unresting strayed;
But hers were fixed upon his face,
Their choicest, dearest resting-place!
121

“O Rano—” such appeared to be
The train of feelings half expressed
In murmuring words that filled her breast:
“Great is indeed my love for thee!
It seems almost a dream, even now,
These lips—these eyes—this noble brow,
These locks that like the day-break shine,
Are mine, O mine—all—only mine!
How can I make you know and feel
How much I love you! how reveal
My thirst for what my heart adores,
The longing of my soul for yours!—
O best I love to lie awake,
A lonely tender watch to keep
Over my trusting own one's sleep,
And think, how can my love be shown!—
What can I ever do to make
Myself more worthy of his own?
And almost wish your welfare less
That more might be the chance for me
To make or mend the happiness,
Health, comfort, I would have depend
On me, your dearest, only friend!
To do some little more of good
Than just preparing clothes or food;—
And I at times would almost flee
Your dear caress and company,
E'en when I know no need to go,
Just to contrive—consider—do
Some thing—some active thing for you;
As if the care itself were dear
As him I cared for!—all the same
It is my joy to trust—revere—
122

Look up to—as my ruler claim
And sole protector, guide and guard,—
Him o'er whose weal I watch and ward.
So would I, with the parent's love
The cherished child's affection prove;
So be the mother-bird to hold
The young one in her fond wing's fold,
Yet nestle like the fledgeling too
Beneath the breast so sheltering, true:
As if—my love, my lord, my life,
It were not all to be your wife!—
But I can never, never have
Enough of that sweet love I crave;
Can never find or feign or steal
Sufficient outlet to reveal
The burning boundless love I feel!
So could I anger—give you pain,
To soothe, coax, comfort you again;
Would have you sick, to nurse and tend,
And deeper love that way expend
Upon you; have you cruel, sweet!
So might I down before you throw
Myself in self-abandonment
More utter—not to frustrate so
The working of your full intent,
But to cling to you and entreat
And clasp your knees and kiss your feet
And mercy with hot tears implore,
Only to feel myself the more
Your own—all yours—life—body—soul—
On whom no shadow of control
Shall check your power at any hour
123

To wreak your wildest whim or will—
To ban—to bless—to save or kill!
So would I tend—implore—offend—
Do anything your thoughts to fill,
Share each emotion, every thrill,
And bear an all-absorbing part
In all the beatings of your heart!
So should my Soul live, drink, and feed
On yours—its ardour-kindling spring!
For are you not—indeed—indeed—
The gulf into whose depths I fling
My all of being; plunged and tost
In fathomless sweet fires, and lost
In this immeasurable abyss
And whirl of overwhelming bliss!
Yes, yes! you know that you are this,
My soul-devouring, lordly bird
Of beauty! O, with plumes so fair,
Such stately step, commanding air
And eyes so proud and free! O whence,
Whence shall I seek new life to drain,
Win some existence back again,
But from this heart of yours alone
Which so consumes—absorbs my own!—
So dearest, you conceive how thence
My foolish fancy, my pretence
Of drowning came; 'twas but to hear
Your love in your lamenting—cheer
124

My heart with your despair and feel
The sweet sensations o'er me steal
Of your fond efforts to restore
And bring me back to life once more!—
But had I really died to-day
Think not, dear friend! my Soul set free—
This ‘Wairua’—could have fled away
To any realm where Spirits stray,
Could ever have abandoned thee!
I know, I know! distressed, forlorn,
It could not from thy side be torn—
Would long for—linger—only rest
Near what in life it loved the best!”

II.

“You know it, dearest! and just now,
To see you looking forth and far,
As bright, soft, bold and beautiful
As some outstanding steady Star,
With full assurance so serene,
Such radiant love upon your brow—
Might make the wretch most doubting, dull,
Catch confidence from yours, my queen!”
“Nay, surely 'twere a little thing,
My soul to yours should choose to cling;
Not stay to vex, as others do,
Poor wretches who may break taboo—”
“So then you think, if this sweet breath
Were stopped—these kindling eyes were closed—
These lovely living limbs reposed
125

In rigid, stirless, icy death,
My loving Amo would not be
Gone—perished—done with utterly!”
“Nay, what have these to do with me—
With me who speak to—love you so?
How strange a fancy!—tell me then
For you know all things, you white men,
What course my Spirit, down below,
If to that land before your own
It chanced to go (I know, behind
It could not, would not stay alone!)
Should take with least delay to find
And fly to your dear heart, and show
The deep and deathless love, I know,
It would be burning to bestow?”—
“What can I tell you! you know more,
Dearest, yourself—as much at least;
Do you remember, once before
I told you, love, I was no priest,
No learned Tóhunga—not I—”
“But tell me what your wise men say,
And all about us when we die;
You laughed at us, I know, that day,
Too proud to give a true reply!”

III.

“Our wise men, Amo!—sooth to say, the most
Of these, just now seem doing as one day
126

A great white War-chief did to find a way
O'er shallow sea-flats when the ford was lost.
Straight through the rising tide his band he sent
In all directions radiating round,
Resolved to follow him who furthest went,
And footing most secure the longest found.
So seem our Sages wandering, all and each.
Some struggle through the weltering waves and sink,
Still panting for the shore they never reach;
Some plod along complacently and think
Already they enjoy the wished-for beach;
Some crouch upon a rock-reef close at hand
Whence leads no path, and swear the vaunted land
Is but a film that dims the seeker's eye,
A passing cloud that mocks the groping band;
Content to perish where gulf-girt they stand
They hug their barren rock with dreary cheer—
Confess to no confinement—vow they hear
No wanderer's wail—no plaintive breeze's sigh,
No moanings of the melancholy main:
Life after death—that any Spirit can
Exist apart from Matter—God or Man—
To them a dream, how visionary—vain!
What their minute sensorium may contain,
What they could touch, taste, smell or hear or see,
Is all that in the Universe can be!
Well! it will have its day—that simple notion!
But might they not as well—these pleasant men
Strive to compress the blue tremendous Ocean
In all its dim far-sparkling boundlessness
127

Into yon yellow calabash! And when
They failed—declare with confidence no less,
With self-complacent doggedness insist,
That all it would not hold did ne'er exist:
That no reflections on its outer side,
No dancing day-gleams from the waters wide,
Are any signs that Seas or Oceans roll
Beyond the circlet of that narrow bowl?”

IV.

“Well, that I cannot understand, you know;
But tell me what you think yourself is true;
That I am certain must be right—and so
Will I believe, and only trust in you.”
“In me, dear Child!—but that indeed
Were trusting to a broken reed!”
“That reed no whit the less shall be
A staff of trust and truth for me!”
“Well then, suppose your eyes you close,
And on my shoulder rest your head,
While lasts, my sweet! this noontide heat
And that shrill music sunshine-bred;
And try to sleep while I devise
Some answer wondrous deep and wise
To my fond querist, little dreaming
What mysteries questions may comprise
To her so plain and simple-seeming.”
128

“There—then; I will be still as death—”
And soon the soft-recurring breath
Long-drawn, and breast that gently heaves,
Tell how the life that gushed and glanced
So brightly, lies in sleep entranced—
Sleep, placid, light and infantine—
Serene as those green-imaged leaves
That up through crystal pointing shine.
previous section Ranolf and Amohia
next section