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p. 73


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The pa-ípu, called also the kuólo, was a hula of dignified character, in which all the performers maintained the kneeling position and accompanied their songs with the solemn tones of the ipu (pl. VII), with which each one was provided. The proper handling of this drumlike instrument in concert with the cantillation of the mele made such demands upon the artist, who was both singer and instrumentalist, that only persons of the most approved skill and experience were chosen to take part in the performance of this hula.

The manner of treating the ípu in this hula differed somewhat from that employed in the ala’a-papa, being subdued and quiet in that, whereas in the pa-ípu it was at times marked with great vigor and demonstrativeness, so that in moments of excitement and for the expression of passion, fierce joy, or grief the ípu might be lifted on high and wildly brandished. It thus made good its title as the most important instrument of the Hawaiian orchestra.

In the pa-ípu, as in the hulas generally, while the actors were sometimes grouped according to sex, they were quite as often distributed indiscriminately, the place for the leader, the kumu, being the center.

The vigor that marks the literary style of the mele now given stamps it as belonging to the archaic period, which closed in the early part of the eighteenth century, that century which saw the white man make his advent in Hawaii. The poem deals apparently with an incident in one of the migrations such as took place during the period of intercourse between the North and the South Pacific. This was a time of great stir and contention, a time when there was much paddling and sailing about and canoe-fleets, often manned by warriors, traversed the great ocean in every direction. It was then that Hawaii received many colonists from the archipelagoes that lie to the southward.


(Ko’i-honua )

Wela Kahiki, e!
Wela Kahiki, e!
Wela aku la Kahiki;
Ua kaulu-wela ka moku; p. 74
5 Wela ka ulu o Hawaii;
Kakala wela aku la Kahiki ia Olopana, a
Ka’u wahi kanaka;
O ka hei kapu b o Hana-ka-ulani, c
Ka hei kapu a ke alii,
10 Ka hoo-mamao-lani, d
Ke kapu o Keawe, e
A o Keawe
Ke alii holo, ho-i’a 1 kai, e-e!

p. 75



(Distinct utterance)

Glowing is Kahiki, oh!
Glowing is Kahiki!
Lo, Kahiki is a-blaze,
The whole island a-burning.
5 Scorched is thy scion, Hawaii.
Kahiki shoots flame-tongues at Olopana,
That hero of yours, and priest
Of the oracle Hana-ka-ulani,
The sacred shrine of the king--
10 He is of the upper heavens,
The one inspired by Keawe,
That tabu-famous Keawe,
The king passion-fond of the sea.



Lau lehua punoni ula ke kai o Kona,
Ke kai punoni ula i oweo ia;
Wewena ula ke kai la, he kokona;
Ula ia kini i ka uka o Alaea,
5 I hili ahi ula i ke kapa a ka wahine,
I hoeu ia e ka ni’a, e ka hana,
E ka auwai lino mai la a kehau.
He hau hoomoe ka lau o ka niu,
Ke oho o ka laau, lauoho loloa.
10 E lóha ana i ka la i o Kailua la, l-u-a.
O ke ku moena ololi a ehu
O ku’u aina kai paeaea.
Ea, hoea iluna o Mauna Kilohana,
Na kaha poohiwi mau no he inoa.
15 Ua noa e, ua pii’a kou wahi kapu, e-e!
I a’e ’a mai e ha’i.

p. 76




Leaf of lehua and noni-tint, the Kona sea,
Iridescent saffron and red,
Changeable watered red, peculiar to Kona;
Red are the uplands Alaea;
5 Ah, ’tis the flame-red stained robes of women
Much tossed by caress or desire.
The weed-tangled water-way shines like a robe of pearls,
Dew-pearls that droop the coco leaf,
The hair of the trees, their long locks--
10 Lo, they wilt in the heat of Kailua the deep.
A mat spread out narrow and gray,
A coigne of land by the sea where the fisher drops hook.
Now looms the mount Kilohana--
Ah, ye wood-shaded heights, ever-lasting your fame!
15 Your tabu is gone! your holy of holies invaded!
Broke down by a stranger!

The intricately twisted language of this mele is allegorical, a rope whose strands are inwrought with passion, envy, detraction, and abuse. In translating it one has to choose between the poetic verbal garb and the esoteric meaning which the bard made to lurk beneath the surface.



Kauó pu ka iwa kala-pahe’e,
Ka iwa, ka manu o Kaula i ka makani.
E ka manu o-ú pani-wai o Lehua,
O na manu kapu a Kuhai-moana,
5 Mai hele a luna o Lei-no-ai,
O kolohe, o alai mai ka Unu-lau.
Puni’a iluna o ka Halau-a-ola;
A ola aku i ka luna o Maka-iki-oleo.
I ka lulu, i ka la’i o kai maio,
10 Ma ka ha’i-wá i ka mole o Lehua in, Le-hú-a!
O na lehua o Alaka’i ka’u aloha,
O na lehua iluna o Ko’i-alana;
Ua nonoho hooipo me ke kohe-kohe;
Ua anu, maeele i ka ua noe.
15 Ua mai oe; kau a’e ka naná laua nei, e-e,
Na ’lii e o’oni mai nei, e-e!




The iwa flies heavy to nest in the brush,
Its haunt on windy Ke-ula.
The watch-bird, that feuds off the rain from Le-hu-a--p. 77
Bird sacred to Ku-hai, the shark-god--
5 Shrieks, "Light not on terrace of Lei-no-ai,
Lest Unu-lau fiercely assail you."
Storm sweeps the cliffs of the islet;
A covert they seek neath the hills,
In the sheltered lee of the gale,
10 The cove at the base of Le-hu-a.
The shady groves there enchant them,
The scarlet plumes of lehua.
Love-dalliance now by the water-reeds,
Till cooled and appeased by the rain-mist.
15 Pour on, thou rain, the two heads press the pillow:
Lo, prince and princess stir in their sleep!

The scene of this mele is laid on one of the little bird-islands that lie to the northwest of Kauai. The iwa bird, flying heavily to his nesting place in the wiry grass (kala-pahee), symbolizes the flight of a man in his deep-laden pirogue, abducting the woman of his love. The screaming sea-birds that warn him off the island, represented as watch-guards of the shark-god Kuhai-moana (whose reef is still pointed out), figure the outcries of the parents and friends of the abducted woman.

After the first passionate outburst (Puni’a iluna o ka Halau-a ola) things go more smoothly (ola * * *). The flight to covert from the storm, the cove at the base of Le-hu-a, the shady groves, the scarlet pompons of the lehua--the tree and the island have the same name--all these things are to be interpreted figuratively as emblems of woman's physical charms and the delights of love-dalliance.




Ku aku la Kea-aú, lele ka makani mawaho,
Ulu-mano, ma ke kaha o Wai-o-lono.
Ua moani lehua a’e la mauka;
Kani lehua iluna o Kupa-koili,
5 I ka o ia i ka lau o ka hala,
Ke poo o ka hala o ke aku’i.
E ku’i e, e ka uwalo.
Loli ka mu’o o ka hala,
A helelei ka pua, a pili ke alanui:
10 Pu ia Pana-ewa, ona-ona i ke ala,
I ka nahele makai o Ka-unu-loa la.
Nani ke kaunu, ke kaunu a ke alii,
He puni ina’i poi na maua.
Ua hala ke Kau a me ka Hoilo,
15 Mailaila mai no ka hana ino.
Ino mai oe, noho malie aku no hoi au;
Hopo o’ ka inaina, ka wai, e-e;
Wiwo au, hopohopo iho nei, e-e!

p. 78




(In turgid style)

A storm from the sea strikes Ke-au,
Ulu-mano, sweeping across the barrens;
It sniffs the fragrance of upland lehua,
Turns back at Kupa-koili;
5 Sawed by the blows of the palm leaves,
The groves of pandanus in lava shag;
Their fruit he would string ’bout his neck;
Their fruit he finds wilted and crushed,
Mere rubbish to litter the road--
10 Ah, the perfume! Pana-ewa is drunk with the scent;
The breath of it spreads through the groves.
Vainly flares the old king's passion.
Craving a sauce for his meat and mine.
The summer has flown: winter has come:
15 All. that is the head of our troubles.
Palsied are you and helpless am I;
You shrink from a plunge in the water;
Alas, poor me! I'm a coward.

The imagery of this mele sets forth the story of the fierce, but fruitless, love-search of a chief, who is figured by the Ulu-mano, a boisterous wind of Puna. Hawaii. The fragrance of upland lehua (moani lehua a’e la mauka, verse 3) typifies the charms of the woman he pursues. The expression haul kani lehua (verse 4), literally the sudden ending of a rain-squall, signifies the man's failure to gain his object. The lover seeks to string the golden drupe of the pandanus (hala), that he may wear them as a wreath about his neck (uwalo); the is wounded by the teeth of the sword-leaves (o ia i ka lau o ka hala, verse 5). More than this, he meets powerful, concerted resistance (ke poo o ka hala o ke aku’i, verse offered by the compact groves of pandanus that grow in the rough lava-shag (aku’i), typifying, no doubt, the resistance made by the friends and retainers of the woman. After all, he finds, or declares that he finds, the hala fruit he had sought to gather and to wear as a lei about his neck, to be spoiled, broken, fit only to litter the road (loli ka mu’o o ka hala, verse 8: A helelei ka pua, a pili ke alanui. verse 9). In spite of his repulse and his villification of the woman, his passion still feeds on the thought of the one he has lost; her charms intoxicate his imagination, even as the perfume of the hala bloom bewitches the air of Pana-ewa (Pu ia Pana-ewa, ona-ona i ke ala, verse 10).

It is difficult to interpret verses 12 to 18 in harmony with the story as above given. They may be regarded as a commentary on the

p. 79

passionate episode in the life of the lover, looked at from the standpoint of old age, at a time when passion still survives but physical strength is in abeyance.

As the sugar-boiler can not extract from the stalk the last grain of sugar, so the author finds it impossible in any translation to express the full intent of these Hawaiian mele.



Aole au e hele ka li’u-lá o Maná,
Ia wai oupe-kanaka a o Lima-loa: b
A e hoopunipuni ia a’e nei ka malihini;
A mai puni au: he wai oupe na.
5 He ala-pahi ka li’u-lá o Maná;
Ke poloai c la i ke Koolau-wahine. d
Ua ulu mai ka hoaloha i Wailua,
A ua kino-lau e Kawelo f mahamaha-i’a, g

p. 80

A ua aona a mai nei ho oiwi e.
10 He mea e wale au e noho aku nei la.
O ka noho kau a ka mea waiwai;
O kau ka i’a a haawi ia mai.
Oli-oli au ke loaa ia oe.
15 A pela ke ahi o Ka-maile, b
He alualu hewa a’e la ka malihini,
Kukuni hewa i ka ili a kau ka uli, e;
Kau ka uli a ka mea aloha, e.




I will not chase the mirage of Maná,
That man-fooling mist of god Lima-loa,
Which still deceives the stranger--
And came nigh fooling me--the tricksy water!
5 The mirage of Maná, is a fraud; it
Wantons with the witch Koolau.
A friend has turned up at Wailua,
Changeful Kawelo, with gills like a fish,
Has power to bring luck in any queer shape.
10 As a stranger now am I living,
Aye, living.
You flaunt like a person of wealth,
Yours the fish, till it comes to my hook.
I am blest at receiving from you:
15 Like fire-sticks flung at Ka-maile--
The visitor vainly chases the brand:
Fool! he burns his flesh to gain the red mark,
A sign for the girl he loves, oho!



(Ai-ha’a, a he Ko’i-honua paha)

Kauhua Ku, ka Lani, i-loli ka moku;
Hookohi ke kua-koko o ka Lani;
He kua-koko, pu-koko i ka honua;
He kua-koko kapu no ka Lani;

p. 81

5 He ko’i ula ana a maku’i i ka ala,
Hoomau ku-wá mahu ia,
Ka maka o ke ahi alii e a nei.
Ko mai ke keiki koko a ka Lani,
Ke keiki he nuuhiwa ia Hitu-kolo,
10 O ke keiki hiapo anuenue, iloko o ka manawa,
O hi ka wai nui o ka nuuhiwa a Ke-opu-o-lani,
O ua alii lani alewa-lewa nei,
E u-lele, e ku nei ma ka lani;
O ka Lani o na mu’o-lau o Liliha,
15 Ka hakina, ha pu'e, ka maka o Kuhi-hewa a Lola--
Kalola, nana ke keiki laha-laha;
Ua kela, he kela ka pakela
O na pahi’a loa o ka pu likoliko i ka lani
O kakoo hula manu o o-ulu,
20 O ha hula o-ku’i lele i ka lani,
O hiapo o ka manu leina a Pokahi,
O Ka-lani-opu’u hou o ka moku,
O na kupuna koikoi o Keoua, o ka Lani Kui-apo-iwa.




(To be recited in bombastic style, or, it may be, distinctly)

Big with child is the Princess Ku;
The whole island suffers her whimsies;
The pangs of labor are on her;
Labor that stains the land with blood,
5 Blood-clots of the heavenly born,
To preserve and guard the royal line,
The spark of king-fire now glowing:
A child is he of heavenly stock,
Like the darling of Hitu-kolo,
10 First womb-fruit born to love's rainbow.
A bath for this child of heaven's breast,
This mystical royal offspring,
Who ranks with the heavenly peers,
This tender bud of Liliha,
15 This atom, this parcel, this flame,
In the line Kuhi-hewa of Lola--
Ka-lola, who mothered a babe prodigious,
For glory and splendor renowned,
A scion most comely from heaven,
20 The finest down of the new-grown plume,
From bird whose moult floats to heaven,
Prime of the soaring birds of Pokahi,
The prince, heaven-flower of the island,
Ancestral sire of Ke-oua,
25 And of King Kui-apo-iwa.

p. 82

The heaping up of adulations, of which this mele is a capital instance, was not peculiar to Hawaiian poetry. The Roman Senate bestowed divinity on its emperors by vote; the Hawaiian bard laureate, careering on his Pegasus, thought to accomplish the same end by piling Ossa on Pelion with high-flown phrases; and every loyal subject added his contribution to the cairn that grew heavenward.

In Hawaii, as elsewhere, the times of royal debasement, of aristocratic degeneracy, of doubtful or disrupted succession, have always been the times of loudest poetic insistence on birth-rank and the occasion for the most frenzied utterance of high-sounding titles. This is a disease that has grown with the decay of monarchy.

Applying this criterion to the mele above given, it may be judged to be by no means a product wholly of the archaic period. While certain parts, say from the first to the tenth verses, inclusive, bear the mark of antiquity, the other parts do not ring clear. It seems as if some poet of comparatively modern times had revamped an old mele to suit his own ends. Of this last part two verses were so glaringly an interpolation that they were expunged from the text.

The effort to translate into pure Anglo-Saxon this vehement outpour of high-colored phrases has made heavy demands on the vocabulary and has strained the idioms of our speech well-nigh to the point of protest.

In lines 1, 2, 4, 8, 14, and 23 the word Lani means a prince or princess, a high chief or king, a heavenly one. In lines 12, 13, 18, and 20 the same word lani means the heavens, a concept in the Hawaiian mind that had some far-away approximation to the Olympus of classic Greece.


Ooe no paha ia, e ka lau o ke aloha,
Oia no paha ia ke kau mai nei ka hali’a.
Ke hali’a-li’a mai nei ka maka,
Manao hiki mai no paha au anei.
5 Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Ua pau kau la, kau ike iaia;
Ka manawa oi’ e ai ka manao iloko.
Ua luu iho nei au i ke kai nui;
Nui ka ukiuki, paio o ka naau.
10 Aohe kanaka eha ole i ke aloha.
A wahine e oe, kanaka e au;
He mau alualu ka ha’i e lawe.
Ike aku i ke kula i’a o Ka-wai-nui.
Nui ka opala ai o Moku-lana.
15 Lana ka limu pae hewa o Makau-wahine.
O ka wahine no oe, o ke kane no ia.
Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Hoi mai no la ia, a ia wai e uwe aku?

p. 83



Methinks it is you, leaf plucked from Love's tree,
You mayhap, that stirs my affection.
There's a tremulous glance of the eye,
The thought she might chance yet to come:
5 But who then would greet her with song?
Your day has flown, your vision of her--
A time this for gnawing the heart.
I've plunged just now in deep waters:
Oh the strife and vexation of soul!
10 No mortal goes scathless of love.
A wife thou estranged, I a husband estranged,
Mere husks to be cast to the swine. a
Look, the swarming of fish at the weir!
Their feeding grounds on the reef
15 Are waving with mosses abundant.
Thou art the woman, that one your man--
At her coming who'll greet her with song?
Her returning, who shall console?

This song almost explains itself. It is the soliloquy of a lover estranged from his mistress. Imagination is alive in eye and ear to everything that may bring tidings of her, even of her unhoped-for return. Sometimes he speaks as if addressing the woman who has gone from him, or he addresses himself, or he personifies some one who speaks to him, as in the sixth line: "Your day has flown, * * *."

The memory of past vexation and anguish extorts the philosophic remark, "No mortal goes scathless of love." He gives over the past, seeks consolation in a new attachment--he dives, lu’u, into the great ocean, "deep waters," of love, at least in search of love. The old self (selves), the old love, he declares to be only alualu, empty husks.

He--it is evidently a man--sets forth the wealth of comfort, opulence, that surrounds him in his new-found peace. The scene, being laid in the land Kailua, Oahu--the place to which the enchanted tree Maka-léi b was carried long ago, from which time its waters abounded in fish--fish are naturally the symbol of the opulence that now bless his life. But, in spite of the new-found peace and prosperity that attend him, there is a lonely corner in his heart; the old question echoes in its vacuum, "Who'll greet her with song? * * * who shall console? "

p. 84


O Ewa, aina kai ula i ka lepo,
I ula i ka makani anu Moa’e,
Ka manu ula i ka lau ka ai,
I palahe’a ula i ke kai o Kuhi-á.

5 Mai kuhi mai oukou e, owau ke kalohe;
Aohe na’u, na lakou no a pau.
Aohe hewa kekahi keiki a ke kohe.
Ei’ a’e; oia no paha ia.
I lono oukou ia wai, e, ua moe?

10 Oia kini poai o lakou la paha?
Ike aku ia ka mau’u hina-hina--
He hina ko’u, he aka mai ko ia la.
I aka mai oe i kou la manawa le’a;
A manawa ino, nui mai ka nuku,

15 Hoomokapu, hoopale mai ka maka,
Hoolahui wale mai i a’u nei.
E, oia paha; ae, oia no paha ia.



Ewa's lagoon is red with dirt--
Dust blown by the cool Moa’e,
A plumage red on the taro leaf,
An ocherous tint in the bay.

5 Say not in your heart that I am the culprit.
Not I, but they, are at fault.
No child of the womb is to blame.
There goes, likely he is the one.
Who was it blabbed of the bed defiled?

10 It must have been one of that band.
But look at the rank grass beat down--
For my part, I tripped, the other one smiled.
You smiled in your hour of pleasure;
But now, when crossed, how you scold!

15 Avoiding the house, averting the eyes--
You make of me a mere stranger.
Yes it's probably so, he's the one.

A poem this full of local color. The plot of the story, as it may be interpreted, runs somewhat as follows: While the man of the house, presumably, is away, it would seem--fishing, perhaps, in the waters of Ewa's "shamrock lagoon"--the mistress sports with a lover. The culprit impudently defends himself with chaff and dust-throwing. The hoodlums, one of whom is himself the sinner, have been blabbing, says he.

p. 85

His accuser points to the beaten down hina-hina grass as evidence against him. At this the brazen-faced culprit parries the stroke with a humorous euphemistic description, in which he plays on the word hina, to fall. Such verbal tilting in ancient Hawaii was practically a defense against a charge. of moral obliquity as decisive and legitimate as was an appeal to arms in the times of chivalry. He euphemistically speaks of the beaten herbage as the result of his having tripped and fallen, at which, says he, the woman smiled, that is she fell in with his proposals. He gives himself away; but that doesn't matter.

It requires some study to make out who is the speaker in the tit-for-tat of the dialogue.



He lua i ka Hikina,
Ua ena e Pele;
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
5 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akea e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Niihau a a.

10 He lua i Niihau, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
15 Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Kauai a a.

He lua i Kauai ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
20 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
25 Nana i eli ka lua i Oahu a a.

He lua i Oahu, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
30 A ninau o Wakea.
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli ka lua i Molokai a a. p. 86

He lua i Molokai, ua ena e Pele.
35 Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
40 Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Lanai a a.

He lua i Lanai, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
45 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea.
Ninau o Wakea.
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Maui a a.

50 He lua i Maui, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
55 Owai, nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Hu'ehu'e a a.

He lua i Hu'ehu'e, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
60 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Eli-eli, kau mai!



(In turgid style)

A pit lies (far) to the East,
Pit het by the Fire-queen Pele.
Heaven's dawn is lifted askew.
One edge tilts up, one down, in the sky:
5 The thud of the pick is heard in the ground.
The question is asked by Wakea,
What god ’s this a-digging?
It is I, it is Pele,
Who dug Niihau deep down till it burned,
10 Dug fire-pit red-heated by Pele.

Night's curtains are drawn to one side,
One lifts, one hangs in the tide.
Crunch of spade resounds in the earth.
Wakea ’gain urges the query,
15 What god plies the spade in the ground?
Quoth Pele, ’tis I: p. 87
I mined to the fire heath Kauai,
On Kauai I dug deep a pit,
A fire-well flame-fed by Pele.

20 The heavens are lifted aslant,
One border moves up and one down;
There's a stroke of o-ó ’neath the ground.
Wakea, in earnest, would know,
What demon's a-grubbing below?
25 I am the worker, says Pele:
Oahu I pierced to the quick,
A crater white-heated by Pele.

Now morn lights one edge of the sky:
The light streams up, the shadows fall down;
30 There's a clatter of tools deep down.
Wakea, in passion, demands,
What god this who digs ’neath the ground?
It is dame Pele who answers;
Hers the toil to dig down to fire,
35 To dig Molokai and reach fire.

Now morning peeps from the sky
With one eye open, one shut.
Hark, ring of the drill ’neath the plain!
Wakea asks you to explain,
40 What imp is a-drilling below?
It is I, mutters Pele:
I drilled till flame shot forth on Lanai,
A pit candescent by Pele.

The morning looks forth aslant;
45 Heaven's curtains roll up and roll down;
There's a ring of o-o ’neath the sod.
Who, asks Wakea, the god,
Who is this devil a-digging?
’Tis I, ’tis Pele, I who
50 Dug on Maui the pit to the fire:
Ah, the crater of Maui,
Red-glowing with Pele's own fire!

Heaven's painted one side by the dawn,
Her curtains half open, half drawn;
55 A rumbling is heard far below.
Wakea insists he will know
The name of the god that tremors the land.
’Tis I, grumbles Pele,
I have scooped out the pit Hu'e-hu'e,
60 A pit that reaches to fire,
A fire fresh kindled by Pele.

Now day climbs up to the East;
Morn folds the curtains of night;
The spade of sapper resounds ’neath the plain:
65 The goddess is at it again!

p. 88

This mele comes to us stamped with the hall-mark of antiquity. It is a poem of mythology, but with what story it connects itself, the author knows not.

The translation here given makes no profession of absolute, verbal literalness. One can not transfer a metaphor bodily, head and horns, from one speech to another. The European had to invent a new name for the boomerang or accept the name by which the Australian called it. The Frenchman, struggling with the English language, told a lady he was gangrened; he meant he was mortified. The cry for literalism is the cry for an impossibility; to put the chicken back into its shell, to return to the bows and arrows of the stone age.

To make the application to the mele in question: the word ha-olo-olo, for example, which is translated in several different ways in the poem, is of such generic and comprehensive meaning that one word fails to express its meaning. It is, by the way, not a word to be found in any dictionary. The author had to grope his way to its meaning by following the trail of some Hawaiian pathfinder who, after beating about the bush, finally had to acknowledge that the path had become so much overgrown since he last went that way that he could not find it.

The Arabs have a hundred or more words meaning sword--different kinds of swords. To them our word sword is very unspecific. Talk to an Arab of a sword--you may exhaust the list of special forms that our poor vocabulary compasses, straight sword, broadsword, saber, scimitar, yataghan, rapier, and what not, and yet not hit the mark of his definition.


Haku’i ka uahi o ka lua, pa i ka lani;
Ha’aha’a Hawaii, moku o Keawe i hanau ia.
Kiekie ke one o Maláma ia Lohiau,
I a’e ’a mai e ke alii o Kahiki,
5 Nana i hele kai uli, kai ele,
Kai popolo-hu’a a Kane,
Ka wa i po’i ai ke Kai-a-ka-hina-lii,
Kai nu’u, kai lewa.

Hoopua o Kane i ka la’i;
10 Pa uli-hiwa mai la ka uka o ke ahi a Laka,
Oia wahine kihene lehua o Hopoe,
Pu'e aku o na hala.
Ka hala o Panaewa,
O Panaewa nui, moku lehua;
15 Ohia kupu ha-o'e-o'e;
Lehua ula, i wili ia e ke ahi.
A po, e!

Po Puna, po Hilo!
Po i ka uahi o ku’u aina.
20 Ola ia kini!
Ke a mai la ke ahi!

p. 89



A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies;
Hawaii ’s beneath, birth-land of Keawe;
Malama's beach looms before Lohiau,
Where landed the chief from Kahiki,
5 From a voyage on the blue sea, the dark sea,
The foam-mottled sea of Kane,
What time curled waves of the king-whelming flood.
The sea up-swells, invading the land--

Lo Kane, outstretched at his ease!
10 Smoke and flame o’ershadow the uplands,
Conflagration by Laka, the woman
Hopoe wreathed with flowers of lehua,
Stringing the pandanus fruit.
Screw-palms that clash in Pan’-ewa--
15 Pan’-ewa, whose groves of lehua
Are nourished by lava shag,
Lehua that bourgeons with flame.

Night, it is night
O’er Puna and Hilo!
20 Night from the smoke of my land!
For the people salvation!
But the land is on fire!

The Hawaiian who furnished the meles which, in their translated forms, are designated as canto I, canto II, and so on, spoke of them as pále; and, following his nomenclature, the term has been retained, though more intimate acquaintance with the meles and with the term has shown that the nearest English synonym to correspond with pále would be the word division. Still, perhaps with a mistaken tenderness for the word, the author has retained the caption Canto, as a sort of nodding recognition of the old Hawaiian's term--division of a poem. No idea is entertained that the five pále above given were composed by the same bard, or that they represent productions from the same individual standpoint. They do, however, breathe a spirit much in common; so that when the old Hawaiian insisted that they are so far related to one another as to form a natural series for recitation in the hula, being species of the same genus, as it were, he was not far from the truth. The man's idea seemed to be that they were so closely related that, like beads of harmonious colors and shapes, they might be strung on the same thread without producing a dissonance.

Of these five poems, or pále (páh-lay), numbers I, II, and IV were uttered in a natural tone of voice, termed kawele, otherwise termed ko’i-honua. The purpose of this style of recitation was to adapt the tone to the necessities of the aged when their ears no longer

p. 90

heard distinctly. It would require an audiphone to illustrate perfectly the difference between this method of pronunciation and the ai-ha’a, which was employed in the recitation of cantos III and V. The ai-ha’a was given in a strained and guttural tone.

The poetical reciter and cantillator, whether in the halau or in the king's court, was wont to heighten the oratorical effect of his recitation by certain crude devices, the most marked of which was that of choking the voice down, as it were, into the throat, and there letting it strain and growl like a hungry lion. This was the ai-ha’a, whose organic function was the expression of the underground passions of the soul.


74:a Olopana. A celebrated king of Waipio valley. Hawaii, who had to wife the famous beauty, Luukia. Owing to misfortune, he sailed away to Kahiki, taking with him his wife and his younger brother, Moikeha, who was his pupa-lua, settling in a land called Moa-ula-nui-akea. Olopana probably ended his days in his new-found home, but Moi-keha, heart-sick at the loss of Luukia's favors, came back to Hawaii and became the progenitor of a line of distinguished men, several of whom were famous navigators. Exactly what incident in the life of Olopana is alluded to in the sixth and preceding verses, the traditions that narrate his adventures do not inform us.

74:b Hei kapu. An oracle; the place where the high priest kept himself while consulting the deities of the heiau. It was a small house erected on an elevated platform of stones, and there he kept himself in seclusion at such times as he sought to be the recipient of communications from the gods.

74:c Hana-ka-ulani. A name applied to several heiau (temples). The first one so styled, according to tradition, was built at Hana, Maui, and another one at Kaluanui, on Oahu. near the famous valley of Ka-liu-wa’a. These heiau are said to have been built by the gods in the misty past soon after landing on these shores. Was it to celebrate their escape from perils by sea and enemies on land, or was it in token of thankfulness to gods still higher than themselves?

The author's informant can not tell whether these followed the fierce, strict cult of Kane or the milder cult of Lono.

74:d Hoo-mamao-lani. An epithet meaning remote in the heavens, applied to an alai of very high rank.

74:e Keawe. This is a name that belonged to several kings and a large family of gods--papa akua--all of which gods are said to have come from Kahiki and to have dated their origin from the Wa Po, the twilight of antiquity. Among the demigods that were called Keawe may be mentioned: (1) Keawe-huli, a prophet and soothsayer. (2) Keawe-kilo-pono, a wise and righteous one, who loved justice. (3) Keawe-hulu-maemae. It was his function to maintain purity and cleanliness; he was a devouring flame that destroyed rubbish and all foulness. (4) Keawe-ula-o-ka-lani. This was the poetical appellation given to the delicate flush of early morning. Apropos of this the Hawaiians have the following quatrain, which they consider descriptive not only of morning blush, but also of the coming in of the reign of the gods:

O Keawe-ula-i-ka-lani,
O Keawe-liko-i-ka-lani,
O Keawe-uina-pohá-i-Kahiki;
Hiki mai alma o Lono.


Till Lono comes in to reign.

(5) Keawe-pa-makani. It was his function to send winds from Kukulu-o-Kahiki, as well as from some other points. (6) Keawe-ío-ío-moa. This god inspected the ocean tides and currents, such as Au-miki and Au-ká. (7) Keawe-i-ka-liko. He took charge of flower-buds and tender shoots, giving them a chance to develop. (8) Keawe-ulu-pu. It was his function to promote the development and fruitage of plants. (9) Keawe-lu-pua. He caused flowers to shed their petals. (10) Keawe-opala. It was his thankless task to create rubbish and litter by scattering the leaves of the trees. (11) Keawe-hulu, a magician, who could blow a feather into the air and see it at once become a bird with power to fly away. (12) Keawe-nui-ka-ua-o-Hilo, a sentinel who stood guard by night and by day to watch over all creation. (13) Keawe-pulehu. He was a thief and served as cook for the gods. There were gods of evil as well as of good in this set. (14) Keawe-oili. He was p. 75 gifted with the power to convey and transfer evil, sickness, misfortune, and death. (15) Keawe-kaili. He was a robber. (16) Keawe-aihue. He was a thief. (17) Keawe-makilo. He was a beggar. He would stand round while others were preparing food, doing honest work, and plead with his eyes. In this way he often obtained a dole. (16) Keawe-puni-pua’a. He was a glutton, very greedy of pork; he was also called Keawe-ai-pua’u. (19) Keawe-inoino. He was a sloven, unclean in all his ways. (20) Keawe-ilio. The only title to renown of this superhuman creature was his inordinate fondness for the flesh of the dog. So far none of the superhuman beings mentioned seemed fitted to the rule of the Keawe of the text, who was passionately fond of the sea. The author had given up in despair, when one day, on repeating his inquiry in another quarter, he was rewarded by learning of--(21) Keawe-i-na-kai. He was a resident of the region about the southeastern point of Molokai, called Lae-ka-Ilio--Cape of the Dog. He was extravagantly fond of the ocean and allowed no weather to interfere with the indulgence of his penchant. An epithet applied to him describes his dominating passion: Keawe moe i ke kai o Kohakú, Keawe who sleeps in (or on) the sea of Kohakú. It seems probable that this was the Keawe mentioned in the twelfth and thirteenth lines of the mele.

The appellation Keawe seems to have served as a sort of Jack among the demigods of the Hawaiian pantheon, on whom was to be laid the burden of a mongrel host of virtues and vices that were not assignable to the regular orthodox deities. Somewhat in the same way do we use the name Jack as a caption for a miscellaneous lot of functions, as when we speak of a "Jack-at-all-trades."

79:a Wai oupe-kanaka. Man-fooling water; the mirage.

79:b Lima-loa. The long-armed, the god of the mirage, who made his appearance at Maná, Kauai.

79:c Poloai. To converse with, to have dealings with one.

79:d Koolau-wahine. The sea-breeze at Mana. There is truth as well as poetry in the assertion made in this verse. The warm moist air, rising from the heated sands of Maná, did undoubtedly draw in the cool breeze from the ocean--a fruitful dalliance.

79:e Kino-lau. Having many (400) bodies, or metamorphoses, said of Kawelo.

79:f Kawelo. A sorcerer who lived in the region of Maná. His favorite metamorphosis was into the form of a shark. Even when in human form he retained the gills of a fish and had the mouth of a shark at the back of his shoulders, while to the lower part of his body were attached the tail and flukes of a shark. To conceal these monstrous appendages he wore over his shoulders a kihei of kapa and allowed himself to be seen only while in the sitting posture. He sometimes took the form of a worm, a moth, a caterpillar, or a butterfly to escape the hands of his enemies. On land he generally appeared as a man squatting. after the manner of a Hawaiian gardener while weeding his garden plot.

The cultivated lands of Kawelo lay alongside the much-traveled path to the beach where the people of the neighborhood resorted to bathe, to fish, and to swim in the ocean. He made a practice of saluting the passers-by and of asking them, "Whither are you going?" adding the caution, "Look to it that you are not swallowed head and tail by the shark; he has not breakfasted yet " (E akahele oukou o pau po’o, pau hi’u i ka manó; aohe i paina i kakahiaka o ka manó). As soon as the traveler had gone on his way to the ocean, Kawelo hastened to the sea and there assumed his shark-form. The tender flesh of children was his favorite food. The frequent utterance of the same caution, joined to the great mortality among the children and youth who resorted to the ocean at this place, caused a panic among the residents. The parents consulted a soothsayer. who surprised them with the information that the guilty one was none other than the innocent-looking farmer, Kawelo. Instructed by the soothsayer, the people made an immense net of great strength and having very fine meshes. This they spread in the ocean at the bathing place. Kawelo, when caught in the net, struggled fiendishly to break away, but in vain. According to directions, they flung the body of the monster into an enormous oven which they had heated to redness, and supplied with fresh fuel for five times ten days--elima anahulu. At the end of that time there remained only gray ashes. The prophet had commanded them that when this had been accomplished they must fill the pit of the oven with dry dirt; thus doing, the monster would never come to life. They neglected this precaution. A heavy rain flooded the country--the superhuman work of the sorcerer--and from the moistened ashes sprang into being a swarm of lesser sharks. From them have come the many species of shark that now infest our ocean.

The house which once was Kawelo's ocean residence is still pointed out, 7 fathoms deep, a structure regularly built of rocks.

79:g Maha-maha i’a. The gills or fins of a fish such as marked Kawelo.

80:a Aona. A word of doubtful meaning; according to one it means lucky. That expounder (T------ P------) says it should, or might be, haona; he instances the phrase iwi paoa, in which the word paoa has a similar, but not identical, form and means lucky bone.

80:b Ka-maile. A place on Kauai where prevailed the custom of throwing firebrands down the lofty precipice of Nuololo. This amusement made a fine display at night. As the fire-sticks fell they swayed and drifted in the breeze, making it difficult for one standing below to premise their course through the air and to catch one of them before it struck the ground or the water, that being one of the objects of the sport. When a visitor had accomplished this feat, he would sometimes mark his flesh with the burning stick that he might show the brand to his sweetheart as a token of his fidelity,

83:a In the original, He mau alualu ka ha’i e lawe, literally "Some skins for another to take."

83:b Maka-léi. (See note b, p. 17.)

Next: XI.--The Hula Ki’i