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A Maori Legend.
11
. . . . The sisters arose in their sun-lighted vales of Hawaii—
Snatched fire from the altar, and flew o’er the ripples of ocean.
They stumbled in haste, and the holy fire fell from their fingers,
And burns to this day in wild geyser, or smouldering volcano.

So they rescued the chief; and the fire to his bosom returning,
Hand in hand they fled fast down the cliffs of the rushing Waikato.
By the light of the peak, by the smoke of the red-burning island,
Over ripple and reef, till they reached the hearth-stone of Hawaii.

But no footstep returning awakens the slave, Ngaru-hoé.
So peaceful he sleeps in the shade of the thrice-smitten mountain.

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