Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/174

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The Curse of Tuhotu.

LXXXI.

The Curse of Tuhotu.

Woe to the seekers of pleasure! Woe to the Maori race! Woe to this time and place!For filled is the wrathful measure, And Vengeance cometh apace; Only a little space,And a man will give all his treasure To be hid from the angry faceOf a justly-incensed God!The earth shall quake at His nod,And the hills dissolve in fireBefore His enkindled ire!
Woe to Wairoa the gay!I see her at close of day, Go like a child to sleep;I see her, ere morning breaks,Wake, as a madman wakes From a dream of the nethermost deep!
The earth is rent asunder, The heavens are black as a pall; The bright flames rise and fall;Deep rumblings come from under, While high in air, ’Mid the lightning’s glare,Bellows the angry thunder! Wairoa is gone—is fled— The wicked ones all are dead!
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