Yet wisely now the winds had mind to crown
Their joyous undertaking, and upon
The shores of Fiji's isles they drew their prize.
The maidens on the shore had seen afar
The stranger's coming, and the songs were stilled
To hush of expectation. Even so
A prince might come to claim his kingdom, lone,
In a frail craft, with weary eyes, and hair
Crowned with a fading wreath, more beautiful
Than all their lovers, slender, strong and young.
With one lithe spring he gained the yellow sand
And caught the boat and drew it with a swing
High on the beach,--its movement seemed alive.
His sinewy fingers loosed the flapping sail,
Gay shells clinked musical against the mast,
And all the maidens, timorous as birds,
Laughed at the sound with shy averted face.
Then straight and slender as the cocoa palm,
Straight as its shaft and crowned with shining hair,
The stranger lifted up his head. The wreath,
Faded yet still alive thro' ocean's breath,
Drooped o'er his brows. His flashing sun-bright eyes
Struck thro' the group of girls as shoots a dart,
And caught and quivered in sweet Taka's breast.
More noble than the rest, she scorned to fear,
And graceful in her modesty she faltered,
Then came to meet and greet the stranger guest.
Erect she faced him, o'er her brow the frail
Curves of the crest she wore, antennae-wise,
Trembled a little.
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