Sleep on, O Chief, in that dark, damp abode!
And hold within thy grasp that weapon rare
Bequeathed by thy renownéd ancestor.
Turn yet this once thy bold athletic frame,
And let me see thy skin carved o’er with lines
Of blue; and let me see again thy face
Beautifully chiselled into varied forms!
Cease, cease thy slumbers, O thou son of Rangi!
Wake up! and take thy battle-axe, and tell
Thy people of the coming signs, and what