Upon the beach beneath the paling moon
The boats were launched. Amid the busy stir
One man stood idle; as a chief might order,
He bade the youths prepare his long canoe.
With folded arms he gravely watched the rest
And gave them salutation haughtily.
Uhila[1] was he called, and in his veins
There ran a slender stream of northern blood.
He bore upon his old and indolent heart,
Scarred with the sins of war, a white device.
Taka, daughter of chiefs and Fiji's pride,
Lily of maidens, was betrothed to him;
Desirous eyes kinged him with envy's crown.
[Footnote 1: The lightning.]
Scraping across the beach the boats were launched,
And as they touched the waves, they seemed to take
New shape and dignity with that caress
Of little lapping ripples round the prow.
Uhila led the fleet as one who knew
His right by reason of his age and skill.
The little isle seemed now a sleeping maid
Kirtled in green, the beach her snowy breast
Veined with the purple brooks that sought the sea.
Uhila watched it fade below the blue,
Crouched in the bow, his grizzled chin in hand,
Taking his ease, while small Kuma, keen-eyed,
Famed for his daring, paddled lustily.
The dawn had not yet broken, and the soft
Beautiful haze that veils the birth of day
Hung on the water. Loath to break the peace,
Men gave their orders in hushed tones, the clean
Chill of the morning wrapt their naked bodies.
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