TRANSACTIONS OP SECTION G, 387 



and from the remote and vague allusioias so wrought into 

 the piece that even one tribe v?ill often be unable to under- 

 stand the song of another, especially if it be one of any 

 antiquity. 



" To follow the Maori poet through all the wild irregularities 

 of his flight would be far from the intention of these 

 notes. . . . They will be found for the most part to 

 consist of omissions of the nominative case, of the objective, 

 often of the verb and verbal particles, omissions of the prepo- 

 sitions, changes of one preposition into another, unusual words 

 introduced, and words sometimes inverted, exceedingly wild 

 and abrupt metaphors, and transitions unexpected and rapid." 



After reading Dr. Maunsell's statement it will not surprise 

 any one to find that much of the Maori poetry baffles all 

 attempts made by Europeans to translate it into intelligible 

 language. The poetry of any language suffers by translation, 

 and in no case is this so apparent as with Maori poetry. Its 

 excellence in the original may be gathered from the fact that, 

 poor as our attempts at translation are, they will be found to 

 contain much that is beautiful in sentiment and expression. 



The following is a translation of part of an ancient lament 

 by the chief Ika-here-mutu for his children, some of whom died 

 in battle, others of disease. (For original, see Sir G. Grey's 

 " Poetry of the New-Zealanders," page 9.) 



Here I sit, while my throbbing heart 

 Mourns for my loved children. 

 Here, like Tane's offspring, 

 Drooping yonder in the inland forest, 

 I bend like the fronds of the tree-fern 



Over my lost children. 

 Where art thou, O my son ! 

 Thou whom thy people were wont to greet 

 With the welcome cry, " Draw near ! Draw near ! " 

 Thou art gone, alas ! 

 Borne by the strong ebbing tide 

 [That bears all men away] . 



my friends ! here I sit alone 



Upon the plot where my flock gathered — 



A slippery plot,* swept so clean 



That nothing now remains to greet ]nine eyes. 



1 cannot bear to gaze upon the sun 

 Now shining down on me. 



[Its bright light mocks the darkness of my soul.] 



I cannot bear to gaze on Taranaki's snowy peak. 



Nor to feel the warm inland breeze blow upon my check, 



For they only serve to wake the memory of my loss. 



Trees were called the oifspring of Tane, as he was father 

 of all vegetation. The shape and appearance of the tree-fern 

 affords a beautiful and appropriate simile to describe the 



* The slippery plot, literally— the spots where sea-birds flock together. 



