CoLENSO. — On a better Knowledge of the Maori Race. 66 



this part of my subject by observing — that those great difficulties should 

 ever fairly be borne in mind whenever we meet with any of those so-called 

 translations of Maori poetry into English metre ; far better it would be to 

 translate it into good English prose, accompanied with notes. 



I will now proceed to give a translation of a few examples from their 

 poetry, in support of what I have already stated. The first will be a 

 portion of a justly-celebrated Lament, alluded to by me in my last paper.* 



The Lamentation of Te Ikaherengutu for his dead Children ; some of ivhoni 

 were killed by the foe, and some died through wasting sickness. 



Sitting idly here in misery, the chord of my heart continually throbbing concerning 



my own dear children. Behold, how great ! Here am I, 0, my friends, just hke 



the offspring of the forests inland, bowed down towards the ground ; aye, bending low 

 down, even as the long lithe fronds of the black fern-tree, without ever once rising upwards, 

 concerning my own dear children. Where, indeed (is he) ? 0, the dear child, who was 

 formerly cheerfully welcomed with " Come hither, my son." Ah ! he is indeed gone, 

 carried off by the strong ebbing tide. 



I continue still in one place, sitting idly, friends, upon the same plot of ground 

 where my dear children formerly assembled in play — where we dwelt together lovingly ! 

 Now (it is become) a slippery plot (on wliich there is no standing for the foot) — a plot 

 clean denuded and desolated, wholly and entirely despoiled, nothing pleasing left ! so that 

 I care not to look np at the sun standing above me, neither to the once fondly-remembered 

 home-mountain standing near ! nor even think of the sweet native breeze blowing from 

 (our) home ! which one is ever wont to dwell on with affection when the bitter blasts of 

 sorrow are blowing and felt, which are verily as keen as the sharp-cutting icy wind from 

 the south. 



Here, indeed, I must mope owl-like in the hut, through the work of that evil-minded 

 friend Whiro ! My heart is even becoming forgetful of the doings of the many around 

 aboiit me. Was it, indeed, owing to the attempt of my cliildren to steal the moon that 

 they died, or was it, indeed, through (their) attempt to steal on the edge of some cliff that 

 my offspring fell down suddenly, like debris, and perished miserably ? If it had been so 

 (then) the hateful demons would have banded together in anger against us all, and we 

 should all have been exterminated, never more to be seen ; extinct for ever, as the Moa .'f 



This fine poem ends with — 



Enough ! I vnll not sigh, nor show affection any longer unto you !J 



There are several similes herein used that require both explanation and 

 attention. 



" The offspring of the forests :" lit., the begetting of Taane — Taane being 

 considered, in their mythology, as the special maker or begetter of all the 

 vegetable kingdom. 



" The fronds of the black fern-tree :" lit., mamaku (Cgathea medullaris). 



* See " Trans. N.Z. Inst.," Vol. XII., p. 88. 

 t See " Trans. N.Z. Inst.," Vol. XII., p. 88, etc. 

 I A version of this poem will be found in Grey's collection of " Poetry of the New 



Zealanders," p. 9. 



9 



