The fire has its head in the Mount,
And thence the Pele gang start on a raid.
The ash of their ravage reaches the sea:
She’s made a fell sweep of forest and grove
Clean down to Pohaku-o-kapu.
Now, tabu is Puna, forbidden to man:
The fire-tongues dart and hedge it about.
A torch buds out from Moku-aweö,
To answer the beacon flung by Laka.
Now she’s eaten her way from sleepy noon