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 grave, And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave. But lo! night comes, the Mooa[371] woos us back, The sound of mats[372] are heard along our track; 30 Anon the torchlight dance shall fling its sheen In flashing mazes o'er the Marly's[373] 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.[fg] Alas! for them the flower of manhood bleeds; Alas! for them our fields are rank with weeds: Forgotten is the rapture, or unknown,[fh] Of wandering with the Moon and Love alone. 40 But be it so:--_they_ taught us how to wield The club, and rain our arrows o'er the field: Now let them reap the harvest of their art! But feast to-night! to-morrow we depart. Strike up the dance! the Cava bowl[374] fill high! Drain every drop!--to-morrow we may die. In summer garments be our limbs arrayed; Around our waists the Tappa's white displayed; Thick wreaths shall form our coronal,[375] like Spring's, And round our necks shall glance the Hooni strings; 50 So shall their brighter hues contrast the glow Of the dusk bosoms that beat high below.