Tight-pressed is Hanalei’s throng,
A tree bent down by heavy rain,
Weighted with drops from the clouds,
When rain columns sweep through Manu’a-kepa,
This throng that has lured on the stranger,
Nigh to downfall, to downfall, was I,
Laid flat by your trick—aye yours!
My quest was for comfort and life,
Just for comfort and life!
The silence became oppressive. In the stillness that followed the song expectant eyes were focused upon Prince Lohiau, awaiting his reply to the address of the stranger who stood in their midst. No one knew who she was; no one imagined her to be Pele. That she was a person of distinction and rank was evident enough, one whom it was the duty and rare privilege of their chief to receive and entertain.