Ill Manning s ' Old New Zealand' 355 



What manner of Niflheim this was, let us try- 

 to gather from a translation of a Maori poem, by- 

 Manning, now I believe first published, utterly with- 

 out his consent, in Europe at least. 



The seer is on the sacred hill, above the ocean strand, 

 He gazes on the spirits' path, that leads to the spirits' land, 

 To the far north with many a bend, along the rugged shore. 

 That sad road leads, o'er rocks and weeds, whence none 



can e'er come more. 

 The weak, the strong, all pass along, the coward and the 



brave : 

 From that dead track none can turn back, none can escape 



the grave. 



Tangaroa ! Tangaroa ! whither have fled your waves The seer 



Who 'gainst the land eternal war wage from the ocean ^^^ ''^'^ 



caves ? 

 Why abashed, with lowly head, sleep they on their ocean 



bed? 



Thy sons, thy braves ! 



And say, O Tangaroa, why 



Flows thy fountain silently ? 



Why has the cataract ceased to moan, 



Bounding his last bound, 



From mountain cliff to salt-sea stone, 



Silent, without sound. 



And the west wind passes by 



Stealthily without sigh ? 



Tangaroa 

 The winds are hushed, the wild waves hide their heads, ('he sea 



And the fount flows silently, ^^'J^^ 



•" impersona- 



And the breeze forgets to sigh, tion of the 



And the torrent to moan, o'er rock or stone — °r^"' ^^^ 



' Maori 



For the dead pass by ! Neptune) 



answers : 



