Ah! that god, that bad god!
Inexpressibly bad, my child!
. . . . . .
Thou hast entered the expanse;
And wilt visit 'the land of red parrot feathers,'
Where Oārangi was once a guest.
Thou feedest now on ocean spray,
And sippest fresh water out of the rocks,
Travelling over rugged cliffs,
To the music of murmuring billows.