The season is that of Ho-ilo.
A cloud-pall shadows the ocean,
Sure sign of a turbulent sea,
Of a tide that will deluge the land,
Like the Flood of Ka-hulu-manu.
The god-forms stand in due order,
Forms that are swollen to bursting,
The group on Kana-loa’s altar:—
Friends, allies, I reckon them all.
Cape-of-the-Woods entices us on,