Chapter XXX: Canto III

The divisions of Hawaii are lost,—gone to the chief. Small now indeed is Hawaii, grasped in the hollow of the hand; He is holding it fast, fluttering in his right hand. Thou shalt soon see the shadow of one seizing land, The son of Kupuapa, Kalanikupuapaikalani, 70. The child who did the work of a chief, struggling he gained the island. He marched boldly within the lines, Papa entered where there was a left handed fight; He reigned in the land as with a strong arm, Even the Chief Aneheaulaweaina, The right hand of the sweeper of the land. 75. There are the double tusks of Hinamoe; Where he dwelt, there death lay; His going forth was firm without weakness. The chief takes hold, the work is done. He bends his back,—they are thrown into a place of filth; 80. They thrust each other on all sides, with broken bones they chase each other; they groan within. The strength of the island is broken, the bones of the land creak; Broken, they creak like a falling precipice. The enemy wheezes, he doubles up with pain, the air is hot around him; Sideways in the air it falls irregularly, it moves unevenly. 85. The kingdom has become the toe-nail of the island. The chin there it is above, the top of the head, there it is below, Swinging back and forth. Hawaii is a swing, it is like a rope that draws the swing; By the pendulum swung by thee, O chief, by this chief is the overthrow. 90. He looked this way and that in fear in the jungle While the slaughter raged, not sparing any. They rushed as a rushing stream, Like the smoking oven of the volcano When the rising steam ascends to heaven; 95. As the constant restlessness of the high surf When the soft coral and the hard are thrown together on the beach; So is thrown together the refuse of the island.