When rain columns sweep through Manu'a-kepa,
This throng that has lured on the stranger,
Nigh to downfall, to downfall, was I,
Laid flat by your trick—aye yours!
My quest was for comfort and life,
Just for comfort and life!
The silence became oppressive. In the stillness that followed the song expectant eyes were focused upon Prince Lohiau, awaiting his reply to the address of the stranger who stood in their midst. No one knew who she was; no one imagined her to be Pele. That she was a person of distinction and rank was evident enough, one whom it was the duty and rare privilege of their chief to receive and entertain.
Presently there was wrinkling of foreheads, an exchange of glances, prompting winks and nods, inclinations of the head, a turning 'of the eyes—though not a word was spoken—; for his friends thought thus to rouse Lohiau from his daze and to prompt him to the dutiful rites of hospitality and gallantry. Paoa, his intimate friend, sitting at Lohiau's right hand, with a drum between his knees, even ventured to nudge him in the side.
The silence was broken by Pele:
Kapu ke nu, ke i,
I ka puá o ka leo,
I ka hamahamau—hamau kakou—
I ka hawanawana;
I ke kunou maka;
I ka awihi maka;
I ka alawa iki.
Eia ho'i au, kou hoa,
Kou hoa, ho'i, e-e!
TRANSLATION
Drenched by the pouring rain,
Forbidden to murmur,
Or put forth a sound,
Or make utt'rance by speech:
