O ka eha a ke aloha ke lalawe nei,
Eia la iloko, i ku’u manawa.
Ka eha e! auwe ho’i e!
TRANSLATION
The smart of love o’erwhelms me;
It rages in heart and mind—
This hurt, ah, this hurt!
That Lohiau of all men standing on Hawaiian soil should fail utterly in a game of kilu was incredible—the man whose art availed to hit a grass-top teetering in the breeze, to crush the nimble ant speeding on his way, to swat the buzzing fly flitting through the air! The audience was dumbfounded. In the failure to find excuse sufficient for the occasion, it took refuge in silence.
It only remains for Hiiaka to pluck the fruit which her skill has put within reach of her hand. Her complete victory has become a foregone conclusion. Of that there can be no question. It is, however, a question of great interest to the spectator how she will use her victory, in what terms she will celebrate her triumph over the woman and the recreant man who have combined their wits against hers. The answer to this question is to be found in the song with which she preludes her last play:
Mehameha, kanaka-ole, ka ho’i