peoples should reap of benefits, that these islands and thy mother race should see and do their duty in the broader spheres of Empire and humanity. Fate, relentless, seized thee in the mid-ocean of effort, and compelled thee into the still waters of death, of rest.
“Sleep thou, O Father; resting on great deeds done, sure that to generations unborn they will be as beacons along the highways of history. Though thou art gone, may thy spirit, which so long moved the heart of things, inspire us to greater, nobler ends.
“Stay not your lamentations, O ye peoples, for ye have indeed lost a father. Verily our pa of refuge is razed to the ground. The breastwork of defence for great and small is taken. Torn up by the roots is the overshadowing rata tree. As the fall of the towering totara tree in the Deep Forest of Tane[1] (Te Wao-nui-a-Tane), so is the death of a mighty man. Earth quakes to the rending crash. Our shelter gone—who will temper the wind? What of thy Maori people hereafter unless thou canst from thy distant bourne help and inspire the age to kindlier impulse and action!
“So bide ye in your grief, bereaved ones! Though small our tribute, our hearts have spoken. Our feet have trod the sacred precincts of the court-yard of Death (te marae o aitua). Our hearts will be his grave. Love will keep his memory green through the long weary years. Hei konei ra! Farewell!”
Mr. Carroll concluded his oration by chanting a fragment of a beautiful old funeral dirge of his race:—
No te ao te hua ra tanga
Riro ki te po.
Waiho noa hei tumanako
Ma te ngakau.
Kei tawhiti to hou tinana,
Kei te reo o tuku;
Tenei au e noho ana
I te pouritanga,
Mapu kau noa atu i konei.
Au koha hau raroi!
By day what thoughts of thee arise!
But thou’rt vanished in the Night of Death!
Naught is left my heart to cherish
But fond longings—fond and vain.
Far, far away thy form has taken flight;
Far, far thou’rt severed from my side,
And spirit voices breathe thy name.
Here in this lonely world
I sit with drooping head
And nurse my grief in depths of black despair.
Yet on the gentle northern breeze
Thy tender message, loved one, ever sighs to me.
- ↑ Tane, the God of the Forest.
