"Curséd, thrice accurséd, you who thus great Pélé do defy,
Here, upon her sacred mountain, of a surety you shall die!
Pélé, mighty Pélé, Vengeance! Strike her with thy dreadful doom!
So let every scoffer perish!—Pélé! Pélé! Pélé! come!"
And Kapiolani answered—"Pélé! Pélé! Pélé! come!"
Loud the mountain roared and thundered; shuddered all who heard and
saw,
Dauntless stood Kapiolani, dauntless with her faithful few.
"Come!" she cried again. "Come, Pélé! Smite me with thy dreadful doom!
I am waiting, mighty Pélé!—Pélé! Pélé! Pélé! come!"
And the mountain roared and thundered;—but the goddess did not come.
"Hearken, Priest! You have deceived us. All your life has been a lie,
Black your heart is, red your hands are, with the blood of those who
die.
All these years you have misled us with your awful threats of doom.
Now it ends! I do defy you, and your goddess I defy.
Pélé, is not, never has been. All your worship is a lie.
"I will climb your sacred mountain. I will dare your lake of fire.
I will eat your sacred berries. I will dare your goddess there,
There and then to wreak her vengeance, then and there to come in fire,
And with awful burnings end me, now and for eternity;
But if Pélé does not end me, then her worship ends this day."
Then the great high priest of Pélé turned to fiery Kilauea.
"Come!" he said, "the goddess calls you!"—and they climbed the
mountain side,
Up the slopes of Mauna Loa, to the hell of Kilauea,
With the bright blue sky above them, with the blazing sun above them,
While the mountain shook beneath them, and its head was wrapped in
fire.
Fearful, hopeful, all the people crept along the shaking path,
Hardly breathing at their daring, thus to brave dread Pélé's wrath,
Bending low lest she should see them, breathing soft lest she should
hear,
Certain that Kapiolani would be sacrificed that day,
To the vengeance of the goddess, to the anger of Pélé.
"As little child
On mother's breast,
O rest, my heart,
Have rest!
Who rests on Him
Is surely blest.
So rest, my heart,
Have rest!
As warrior bold
His foes among,
Be strong, my heart,
Be strong!
Who rests on Him
Shall ne'er go wrong.
Be strong, my heart,
Be strong!"
Thus, Kapiolani, dauntless, singing softly as she went,
With a face as calm and fearless as a child on pleasure bent,
Climbed the side of Mauna Loa, to the dreadful lake of fire,
While the mountain shook and thundered, while the people blanched and
shuddered,
Climbed to Halé-Mau-Mau,—to the dreadful lake of fire.
All the people waited trembling, stood afar off pale and trembling,
While Kapiolani, fearless, climbed up to the lake of fire,
With the fiery glow all round her, with a heavenly light about her.
Shining with a radiance brighter than since time began had shone
From the Lake of Ceaseless Burnings, from the dreadful lake of fire.
"Here," she cried, "I pluck your berries, Pélé,—and I give you none!
See! I eat your sacred berries, Pélé,—and I give you none!
Pélé, here I break your tabus! Come, with all your dreadful fires!
Burn me, Pélé! I defy you!—Pélé! Pélé! Pélé! come!"
Come now, Pélé, or for ever own that you are overcome!