For Pele, for Hiiaka the land—
This solid ground that swings and floats
Beneath the o’erhanging arch of heaven.
At Ana-kú once met the gods; the road
Thither lay through Ha-ámo;—but now,
Its drum is dismantled, its fence o’erleaped;
The terrace trampled, a litter of straw,
Champed sugar-cane, heaped odds and ends;
A spread for mats; a clutter of dishes;
There’s dipping of water, serving of food.—