Pursue we on his track the mutineer,

Whom distant vengeance had not taught to fear.
Wide o'er the wave-away! away! away!
Once more his eyes shall hail the welcome bay ;
Once more the happy shores without a law
Receive the outlaws whom they lately saw;

Nature, and Nature's Goddess-Woman-woos

To lands where, save their conscience, none accuse;
Where all partake the earth without dispute,

And bread itself is gathered as a fruit *;

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Where none contest the fields, the woods, the streams :-
The Goldless Age, where Gold disturbs no dreams,
Inhabits or inhabited the shore,

Till Europe taught them better than before;
Bestowed her customs, and amended theirs,
But left her vices also to their heirs.
Away with this! behold them as they were,
Do good with Nature, or with Nature err.
"Huzza! for Otaheite!" was the cry,

As stately swept the gallant vessel by.

The breeze springs up; the lately flapping sail
Extends its arch before the growing gale;

In swifter ripples stream aside the seas,

Which her bold bow flings off with dashing ease.

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* The now celebrated bread fruit, to transplant which Captain Bligh's expedition was undertaken.

Thus Argo ploughed the Euxine's virgin foam;
But those she wafted still looked back to home-
These spurn their country with their rebel bark,
And fly her as the raven fled the ark ;
And yet they seek to nestle with the dove,
And tame their fiery spirits down to love.

END OF CANTO THE FIRST.

E

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234

CANTO II.

I.

How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai*,
When summer's sun went down the coral bay !.
Come, let us to the islet's softest shade,

And hear the warbling birds! the damsels said:
The wood-dove from the forest depth shall coo,
Like voices of the gods from Bolotoo;

We'll cull the flowers that grow above the dead,

For these most bloom where rests the warrior's head;
And we will sit in twilight's face, and see

The sweet moon glancing through the tooa tree,

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The lofty accents of whose sighing bough

Shall sadly please us as we lean below;

Or climb the steep, and view the surf in vain
Wrestle with rocky giants o'er the main,

The first three sections are taken from an actual song of the Tonga Islanders, of which a prose translation is given in Mariner's Account of the Tonga Islands. Toobonai is not however one of them; but was one of those where Christian and the mutineers took refuge. I have altered and added, but have retained as much as possible of the original.

Which spurn in columns back the baffled spray.
How beautiful are these! how happy they,

Who, from the toil and tumult of their lives,

Steal to look down where nought but Ocean strives!

Even he too loves at times the blue lagoon,

And smooths his ruffled mane beneath the moon.

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II.

Yes-from the sepulchre we'll gather flowers,
Then feast like spirits in their promised bowers,
Then plunge and revel in the rolling surf,
Then lay our limbs along the tender turf,

And, wet and shining from the sportive toil,
Anoint our bodies with the fragrant oil,

And plait our garlands gathered from the gravé,

And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave.
But lo! night comes, the Mooa woos us back,
The sound of mats are heard along our track;
Anon the torchlight dance shall fling its sheen
In flashing mazes o'er the Marly's green;
And we too will be there; we too recall
The memory bright with many a festival,
Ere Fiji blew the shell of war, when foes
For the first time were wafted in canoes.
Alas; for them the flower of mankind bleeds;
Alas! for them our fields are rank with weeds:

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