Chapter XIII: Canto V: (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.

[Page 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.

_Mele_

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?

[Page 83]

[Translation.]

_Song_

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.[203]
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?

[Footnote 203: In the original, _He mau alualu ka ha’i e
lawe_, literally “Some skins for another to take.”]

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_[204] 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?”

[Footnote 204: _Maka-léi_. (See note _b_, p. 17.)]

[Page 84]

_Mele_

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.

[Translation.]

_Song_

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.
[Page 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.

_Mele_

(Ai-ha’a)

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 akua e eli nei?
Owan no, o Pele,
Nona i eli aku ka lua i Niihau a a.

10 He lua i Niihau, ua ena e Pele.
He 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.

[Page 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!

[Translation.]

_Song_

(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 Mihau 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:
[Page 87] I mined to the fire neath 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-ó ’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!
[Page 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.

_Mele_

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!
[Page 89]

[Translation.]

_Song_

A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies;
Hawaii’s beneath, birth-land of Keawe;
Malama’s beach looms before Lohian,
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
pale 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
[Page 90] aged when their ears no longer 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.

[Page 91]

XI.—THE HULA KI’I

I was not a little surprised when I learned that the ancient
hula repertory of the Hawaiians included a performance with
marionettes, _ki’i_, dressed up to represent human beings.
But before accepting the hula _ki’i_ as a product indigenous
to Hawaii, I asked myself: Might not this be a performance in
imitation of the Punch-and-Judy show familiar to Europe and
America?

After careful study of the question no evidence was found,
other than what might be inferred from general resemblance,
for the theory of adoption from a European or American
origin. On the contrary, the words used as an accompaniment
to the play agree with report and tradition, and bear
convincing evidence in form, and matter to a Hawaiian
antiquity. That is not to say, however, that in the use of
marionettes the Hawaiians did not hark back to their
ancestral homes in the southern sea or to a remoter past in
Asia.

The six marionettes, _ki’i_ (pls. VIII and IX), in the
writer’s possession were obtained from a distinguished
kumu-hula, who received them by inheritance, as it were, from
his brother. “He gave them to me,” said he, “with these
words,’ Take care of these things, and when the time comes,
after my death, that the king wants you to perform before
him, be ready to fulfill his desire.’”

It was in the reign of Kamehameha III that they came into the
hands of the elder brother, who was then and continued to be
the royal hula-master until his death. These ki’i have
therefore figured in performances that have been graced by
the presence of King Kauikeaouli (Kamehameha III) and his
queen, Kalama, and by his successors since then down to the
times of Kalakaua. At the so-called “jubilee,” the
anniversary of Kalakaua’s fiftieth birthday, these
marionettes were very much in evidence.

The make-up and style of these ki’i are so similar that a
description of one will serve for all six. This marionette
represents the figure of a man, and was named _Maka-kú_ (pl.
IX). The head is carved out of some soft wood—either kukui
or wiliwili—which is covered, as to the hairy scalp, with a
dark woven fabric much like broadcloth. It is encircled at
the level of the forehead with a broad band of gilt braid, as
if to ape the style of a soldier. The median line from the
forehead over the vertex to the back-head is crested with the
_mahiole_ ridge. This, taken in connection with the
[Page 92] encircling gilt band, gives to the head a warlike appearance,
somewhat as if it were armed with the classical helmet, the
Hawaiian name for which is _mahi-ole_. The crest of the ridge
and its points of junction with the forehead and back-head
are decorated with fillets of wool dyed of a reddish color,
in apparent imitation of the _mamo_ or _o-ó_, the birds whose
feathers were used in decorating helmets, cloaks, and other
regalia. The features are carved with some attempt at
fidelity. The eyes are set with mother-of-pearl.

The figure is of about one-third life size, and was
originally draped, the author was told, in a loose robe,
_holokú_ of tapa cloth of the sort known as _mahuna_, which
is quite thin. This piece of tapa is perforated at short
intervals with small holes, _kiko’i_. It is also stained with
the juice from the bark of the root of the kukui tree, which
imparts a color like that of copper, and makes the Hawaiians
class it as _pa’ikukui_. A portion of its former, its
original, apparel has been secured.

The image is now robed in a holokú of yellow cotton, beneath
which is an underskirt of striped silk in green and white.
The arms are loosely jointed to the body.

The performer in the hula, who stood behind a screen, by
insinuating his hands under the clothing of the marionette,
could impart to it such movements as were called for by the
action of the play, while at the same time he repeated the
words of his part, words supposed to be uttered by the
marionette.

The hula ki’i was, perhaps, the nearest approximation made by
the Hawaiians to a genuine dramatic performance. Its usual
instrument of musical accompaniment was the ipu, previously
described. This drumlike object was handled by that division
of the performers called the hoopa’a, who sat in full view of
the audience manipulating the ipu in a quiet, sentimental
manner, similar to that employed in the hula kuolo.

As a sample of the stories illustrated in a performance of
the hula ki’i the following may be adduced, the dramatis
personae of which are four:

1. _Maka-kú_: a famous warrior, a rude, strong-handed
braggart, as boastful as Ajax.

2. _Puapua-kea_, a small man, but brave and active.

3. _Maile-lau-lii_ (Small-leafed-maile), a young woman, who
becomes the wife of Maka-ku.

4. _Maile-Pakaha_, the younger sister of Maile-lau-lii, who
becomes the wife of Puapua-kea.

Maka-kú, a rude and boastful son of Mars, at heart a bully,
if not a coward, is represented as ever aching for a fight,
in which his domineering spirit and rough-and-tumble ways for
a time gave him the advantage over abler, but more modest,
adversaries.

[Page 93]

Puapuakea, a man of genuine courage, hearing of the boastful
achievements of Maka-kú, seeks him out and challenges him.

At the first contest they fought with javelins, _ihe_, each
one taking his turn according to lot in casting his javelins
to the full tale of the prescribed number; after which the
other contestant did the same. Neither was victorious.

Next they fought with slings, each one having the right to
sling forty stones at the other. In this conflict also
neither one of them got the better of the other. The next
trial was with stone-throwing. The result was still the same.

Now it was for them to try the classical Hawaiian game of
_lua_. This was a strenuous form of contest that has many
features in common with the panathlion of the ancient
Hellenes, some points in common with boxing, and still more,
perhaps, partakes of the character of the grand art of
combat, wrestling. Since becoming acquainted with the fine
Japanese art of _jiu-jitsu_, the author recognizes certain
methods that were shared by them both. But to all of these it
added the wild privileges of choking, bone-breaking,
dislocating, eye-gouging, and the infliction of tortures and
grips unmentionable and disreputable. At first the conflict
was in suspense, victory favoring neither party; but as the
contest went on Puapuakea showed a slight superiority, and at
the finish he had bettered Maka-kú by three points, or
_ai_[205], as the Hawaiians uniquely term it.

[Footnote 205: _Ai_, literally a food, a course.]

The sisters, Maile-lau-lii and Maile-pakaha, who had been
interested spectators of the contest, conceived a passionate
liking for the two warriors and laid their plans in concert
to capture them for themselves. Fortunately their preferences
were not in conflict. Maile-lau-lii set her affections on
Maka-ku, while the younger sister devoted herself to
Pua-pua-kea.

The two men had previously allowed their fancies to range
abroad at pleasure; but from this time they centered their
hearts on these two Mailes and settled down to regular
married life.

Interest in the actual performance of the hula ki’i was
stimulated by a resort to byplay and buffoonery. One of the
marionettes, for instance, points to some one in the
audience; whereupon one of the _hoopaa_ asks, “What do you
want?” The marionette persists in its pointing. At length the
interlocutor, as if divining the marionette’s wish, says:
“Ah, you want So-and-so.” At this the marionette nods assent,
and the hoopaa asks again, “Do you wish him to come to you?”
The marionette expresses its delight and approval by nods and
gestures, to the immense satisfaction of the audience, who
join in derisive laughter at the expense of the person held
up to ridicule.

Besides the marionettes already named among the characters
found in the different hula-plays of the hula ki’i, the
[Page 94] author has heard mention of the following marionettes: _Ku,
Kini-ki’i, Hoo-lehelehe-ki’i, Ki’i-ki’i_, and _Nihi-aumoe_.

Nihi-aumoe was a man without the incumbrance of a wife, an
expert in the arts of intrigue and seduction. Nihi-aumoe is a
word of very suggestive meaning, to walk softly at midnight.
In Judge Andrews’s dictionary are found the following
pertinent Hawaiian verses apropos of the word _nihi_:

E hoopono ka hele i ka uka o Puna;
E _nihi_ ka hele, mai hoolawehala,
Mai noho a ako i ka pua, o hewa,
O inaina ke Akua, paa ke alanui,
Aole ou ala e hiki aku ai.

[Translation.]

Look to your ways in upland Puna;
Walk softly, commit no offense;
Dally not, nor pluck the flower sin;
Lest God in anger bar the road,
And you find no way of escape.

The marionette Ki’i-ki’i was a strenuous little fellow, an
_ilamuku_, a marshal, or constable of the king. It was his
duty to carry out with unrelenting rigor the commands of the
alii, whether they bade him take possession of a taro patch,
set fire to a house, or to steal upon a man at dead of night
and dash out his brains while he slept.

Referring to the illustrations (pl. VIII), a judge of human
nature can almost read the character of the libertine
Nihi-aumoe written in his features—the flattened vertex,
indicative of lacking reverence and fear, the ruffian
strength of the broad face; and if one could observe the
reverse of the picture he would note the flattened back-head,
a feature that marks a large number of Hawaiian crania.

The songs that were cantillated to the hula ki’i express in
some degree the peculiar libertinism of this hula, which
differed from all others by many removes. They may be
characterized as gossipy, sarcastic, ironical,
scandal-mongering, dealing in satire, abuse, hitting right
and left at social and personal vices—a cheese of rank
flavor that is not to be partaken of too freely. It might be
compared to the vaudeville in opera or to the genre picture
in art.

_Mele_

E Wewehi, ke, ke!
Wewehi oiwi, ke, ke!
Punana[206] i ka luna, ke, ke!
Hoonoho kai-oa[207] ke, ke!
[Page 95] 5 Oluna ka wa’a[208], ke, ke!
O kela wa’a, ke, ke!
O keia wa’a, ke, ke!
Ninau o Mawi[209], ke, ke!
Nawai ka luau’i?[209] ke, ke!
10 Na Wewehi-loa[210], ke, ke! 10
Ua make Wewehi, ke, ke!
Ua ku i ka ihe, ke, ke!
Ma ka puka kahiko[211] ke, ke!
Ka puka a Mawi, ke, ke!

15 Ka lepe, ka lepe, la! 15
Ka lepe, ua hina a uwe!
Ninau ka lepe, la!
Mana-mana lii-lii,
Mana-mana heheiao,
20 Ke kumu o ka lepe? 20
Ka lepe hiolo, e?

[Footnote 206: _Punana_. Literally a nest; here a raised couch
on the _pola_, which was a sheltered platform in the waist of
a double canoe, corresponding to our cabin, for the use of
chiefs and other people of distinction.]

[Footnote 207: _Kai-oa_. The paddle-men; here a euphemism.]

[Footnote 208: _Wa’a_. A euphemism for the human body.]

[Footnote 209: _Mawi_. The hero of Polynesian mythology, whose
name is usually spelled _Maui_, like the name of the island.
Departure from the usual orthography is made in order to
secure phonetic accuracy. The name of the hero is pronounced
_Máh-wee_, not _Mów-ee_, as is the island. Sir George Gray,
of New Zealand, following the usual orthography, has given a
very full and interesting account of him in his Polynesian
mythology.]

[Footnote 210: _Wewehi-loa_. Another name for _Wahie-loa_, who
is said to have been the grandfather of Wewehi. The word
_luau’i_ in the previous verse, meaning real father, is an
archaic form. Another form is _kua-u’i_.]

[Footnote 211: _Puka kahiko_. A strange story from Hawaiian
mythology relates that originally the human anatomy was sadly
deficient in that the terminal gate of the _primæ viæ_ was
closed. Mawi applied his common-sense surgery to the repair
of the defect and relieved the situation. _Ua olelo ia i
kinohi ua hana ia kanaka me ka hemahema no ka nele i ka hou
puka ole ia ka okole, a na Mawi i hoopau i keia pilikia
mamuli o kana hana akamai. Ua kapa ia keia puka ka puka
kahiko._]

[Translation.]

_Song_

O Wewehi, la, la!
Wewehi, peerless form, la, la!
Encouched on the pola, la, la!
Bossing the paddlers, la, la!
5 Men of the canoe, la, la! 5
Of that canoe, la, la!

Of this canoe, la, la!
Mawi inquires, la, la!
Who was her grand-sire? la, la!
10 ’Twas Wewehi-loa, la, la! 10
Wewehi is dead, la, la!
Wounded with spear, la, la!
The same old wound, la, la!
Wound made by Mawi, la, la!
[Page 96]
15 The flag, lo the flag! 15
The flag weeps at half-mast!
The flag, indeed, asks—
Many, many the flags,
A scandal for number.
20 Why are they overturned? 20
Why their banners cast down?

The author has met with several variants to this mele, which
do not greatly change its character. In one of these variants
the following changes are to be noted:

Line 4. Pikaka[212] e ka luna, ke, ke!
Line 5. Ka luna o ka hale, ke, ke!
Line 8. Ka puka o ka hale, a ke, ke!
Line 9. E noho i anei, a ke, ke!

To attempt a translation of these lines which are
unadulterated slang:

Line 4. The roof is a-dry, la, la!
Line 5. The roof of the house, la, la!
Line 8. The door of the house, la, la!
Line 9. Turn in this way, la, la!

[Footnote 212: _Pikaka_ (full form _pikakao_). Dried up,
juiceless.]

The one who supplied the above lines expressed inability to
understand their meaning, averring that they are “classical
Hawaiian,” meaning, doubtless, that they are archaic slang.
As to the ninth line, the practice of “sitting in the door”
seems to have been the fashion with such folk as far back as
the time of Solomon.

Let us picture this princess of Maui, this granddaughter of
Wahieloa, Wewehi, as a Helen, with all of Helen’s frailty, a
flirt-errant, luxurious in life, quickly deserting one lover
for the arms of another; yet withal of such humanity and
kindness of fascination that, at her death, or absence, all
things mourned her—not as Lycidas was mourned:

“With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
.............................................
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,”

but in some rude pagan fashion; all of which is wrought out
and symbolized in the mele with such imagery as is native to
the mind of the savage.

The attentive reader will not need be told that, as in many
another piece out of Hawaii’s old-time legends, the path
through this song is beset with euphuistic stumbling blocks.
The purpose of language, says Talleyrand, is to conceal
thought. The veil in this case is quite gauzy.

The language of the following song for the marionette dance,
hula ki’i, as in the one previously given, is mostly of that
[Page 97] kind which the Hawaiians term _olelo kapékepéke_, or _olelo
huná_, shifty talk, or secret talk. We might call it slang,
though, it is not slang in the exact sense in which we use
that word, applying it to the improvised counters of thought
that gain currency in our daily speech until they find
admission to the forum, the platform, and the dictionary. It
is rather a cipher-speech, a method of concealing one’s
meaning from all but the initiated, of which the Hawaiian,
whether alii or commoner, was very fond. The people of the
hula were famous for this sort of accomplishment and prided
themselves not a little in it as an effectual means of giving
appropriate flavor and gusto to their performances.

_Mele_

Ele-ele kau-kau;[213]
Ka hala-le,[214] e kau-kau,
Ka e-ele ihi,
Ele ihi, ele a,
5 Ka e-ele ku-pou;[215]
Ku-pou.
Ka hala, e![216]

[Translation.]

_Song_

Point to a dark one,
Point to a dainty piece,
A delicate morsel she!
Very choice, very hot!
5 She that stoops over—
Aye stoops!
Lo, the hala fruit!

The translation has to be based largely on conjecture. The
author of this bit of fun-making, which is couched in
old-time slang, died without making known the key to his
cipher, and no one whom the present writer has met with is
able to unravel its full meaning.

[Footnote 213: _Kau-kau_. Conjectural meaning to point out some
one in the audience, as the marionettes often did. People
were thus sometimes inveigled in behind the curtain.]

[Footnote 214: _Hala-le_. Said to mean a sop, with which one
took up the juice or gravy of food; a choice morsel.]

[Footnote 215: _Ku-pou_. To stoop over, from devotion to one’s
own pursuits, from modesty, or from shame.]

[Footnote 216: The meaning of this line has been matter for
much conjecture. The author has finally adopted the
suggestion embodied in the translation here given, which is a
somewhat gross reference to the woman’s physical charms.]

The following mele for the hula ki’i, in language colored by
the same motive, was furnished by an accomplished
practitioner who had traveled far and wide in the practice of
her art, having been one of a company of hula dancers that
attended the Columbian exposition in Chicago. It was her good
[Page 98] fortune also to reach the antipodes in her travels, and it
was at Berlin, she says, that she witnessed for the first
time the European counterpart of the hula ki’i, the “Punch
and Judy” show:

_Mele no ka Hula Ki’i_

E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e;
E le’e kau-kau.
E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e.
E lepe kau-kau.
5 E o-ku ana i kai;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku!
E-he-he, e!

[Translation.]

_Song for the Hula Ki’i_

Now for the dance, dance in accord;
Prepare for the dance.
Now for the dance, dance in time.
Up, now, with the flag!
5 Step out to the right
Step out to the left!
Ha, ha, ha!

This translation is the result of much research, yet its
absolute accuracy can not be vouched for. The most learned
authorities (_kaka-olelo_) in old Hawaiian lore that have
been found by the writer express themselves as greatly
puzzled at the exact meaning of the mele just given. Some
scholars, no doubt, would dub these nonsense-lines. The
author can not consent to any such view. The old Hawaiians
were too much in earnest to permit themselves to juggle with
words in such fashion. They were fond of mystery and
concealment, appreciated a joke, given to slang, but to
string a lot of words together without meaning, after the
fashion of a college student who delights to relieve his mind
by shouting “Upidee, upida,” was not their way. “The people
of the hula,” said one man, “had ways of fun-making peculiar
to themselves.”

When the hula-dancer who communicated to the author the above
song—a very accomplished and intelligent woman—was asked
for information that would render possible its proper
translation, she replied that her part was only that of a
mouthpiece to repeat the words and to make appropriate
gestures, _he pono hula wale no_, mere parrot-work. The
language, she said, was such “classic” Hawaiian as to be
beyond her understanding.
[Page 99]
Here, again, is another song in argot, a coin of the same
mintage as those just given:

_Mele_

E kau-kau i hale manu, e!
Ike oe i ka lola huluhulu, e?
I ka huluhulu a we’uwe’u, e?
I ka punohu,[217] e, a ka la e kau nei?
5 Walea ka manu i ka wai, e!
I ka wai lohi o ke kini, e!

[Translation.]

_Song_

Let’s worship now the bird-cage.
Seest thou the furzy woodland,
The shag of herb and forest,
The low earth-tinting rainbow,
5 Child of the Sun that swings above?
O, happy bird, to drink from the pool,
A bliss free to the million!

[Footnote 217: _Punohu_. A compact mass of clouds, generally
lying low in the heavens; a cloud-omen; also a rainbow that
lies close to the earth, such as is formed when the sun is
high in the heavens.]

This is the language of symbolism. When Venus went about to
ensnare Adonis, among her other wiles she warbled to him of
mountains, dales, and pleasant fountains.

The mele now presented is of an entirely different character
from those that have just preceded. It is said to have been
the joint composition of the high chief Keiki-o-ewa of Kauai,
at one time the kahu of Prince Moses, and of Kapihe, a
distinguished poet—haku-mele—and prophet. (To Kapihe is
ascribed the prophetic and oracular utterance, _E iho ana o
luna, e pii ana o lalo; e ku ana ka paia; e moe ana kaula; e
kau ana kau-huhu—o lani iluna, o honua ilalo_—“The high
shall be brought low, the lowly uplifted; the defenses shall
stand; the prophet shall lie low; the mountain walls shall
abide—heaven above, earth beneath.”)

This next poem may be regarded as an epithalamium, the
celebration of the mystery and bliss of the wedding night,
the _hoáo ana_ of a high chief and his high-born _kapu_
sister. The murmur of the breeze, the fury of the winds, the
heat of the sun, the sacrificial ovens, all are symbols that
set forth the emotions, experiences, and mysteries of the
night:
[Page 100]

_Mele_

(Ko’ihonua)

O Wanahili[218] ka po loa ia Manu’a,[219]
O ka pu kau kama[220] i Hawaii akea;
O ka pu leina[221] kea a Kiha—
O Kiha nui a Pii-lani—[222]
5 O Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama;[223]
O ka maka iolena[224] ke koohaulani i-ó!
O kela kanaka hoali mauna,[225]
O Ka Lani ku’i hono i ka moku.[226]
I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá,[227]
10 Ai’ i Kauai, i Oahu, i Maui,
I Hawaii kahiko o Keawe enaena,[228]
Ke a-á, mai la me ke o-koko,
Ke lapa-lapa la i ka makani,
Makani kua, he Naulu.[229]
10 Kua ka Wainoa i ka Mikioi,
[Page 101] Pu-á ia lalo o Hala-li’i, [230]
Me he alii, alii, la no ka hele i Kekaha,
Ka hookiekie i ka li’u-la,[231]
Ka hele i ke alia-lia la, alia!
20 Alia-lia la’a-laau Kekaha.
Ke kaha o Kala-ihi, Wai-o-lono.
Ke olo la ke pihe a ka La, e!
Ke nu la paha i Honua-ula.

[Footnote 218: _Wanahili_. A princess of the mythological
period belonging to Puna, Hawaii.]

[Footnote 219: _Manu’a_. A king of Hilo, the son of Kane-hili,
famous for his skill in spear-throwing, _maika_-rolling, and
all athletic exercises. He was united in marriage, _ho-ao_,
to the lovely princess Wanahili. Tradition deals with Manua
as a very lovable character.]

[Footnote 220: _Pu kau kama_. The conch (pu) is figured as the
herald of fame. _Kau_ is used in the sense of to set on high,
in contrast with such a word as _waiho_, to set down. _Kama_
is the word of dignity for children.]

[Footnote 221: _Pu leina_. It is asserted on good authority
that the triton (_pu_), when approached in its ocean habitat,
will often make sudden and extraordinary leaps in an effort
to escape. There is special reference here to the famous
conch known in Hawaiian story as _Kiha-pu_. It was credited
with supernatural powers as a _kupua_. During the reign of
Umi, son of Liloa, it was stolen from the _heiau_ in Waipio
valley and came into the hands of god Kane. In his wild
awa-drinking revels the god terrified Umi and his people by
sounding nightly blasts with the conch. The shell was finally
restored to King Umi by the superhuman aid of the famous dog
Puapua-lena-lena.]

[Footnote 222: _Kiha-nui a Piilani_. Son of Piilani, a king of
Maui. He is credited with the formidable engineering work of
making a paved road over the mountain palis of Koolau, Maui.]

[Footnote 223: _Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama_. This Kauhi, as his
long title indicates, was the son of the famous king,
Kama-lala-walu, and succeeded his father in the kingship over
Maui and, probably, Lanai. Kama-lala-walu had a long and
prosperous reign, which ended, however, in disaster. Acting
on the erroneous reports of his son Kauhi, whom he had sent
to spy out the land, he invaded the kingdom of
Lono-i-ka-makahiki on Hawaii, was wounded and defeated in
battle, taken prisoner, and offered up as a sacrifice on the
altar of Lono’s god, preferring that death, it is said, to
the ignominy of release.]

[Footnote 224: _I-olena_. Roving, shifty, lustful.]

[Footnote 225: _Kanaka hoali mauna_. Man who moved mountains;
an epithet of compliment applied perhaps to Kiha, above
mentioned, or to the king mentioned in the next verse,
Kekaulike.]

[Footnote 226: _Ku’i hono i ka moku_. Who bound together into
one (state) the islands Maui, Molokai, Lanai, and Kahoolawe.
This was, it is said, Kekaulike, the fifth king of Maui after
Kama-lala-walu. At his death he was succeeded by
Kamehameha-nui—to be distinguished from the Kamehameha of
Hawaii—and he in turn by the famous warrior-king Kahekili,
who routed the invading army of Kalaniopuu, king of Hawaii,
on the sand plains of Wailuku.]

[Footnote 227: _I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá_. This verse
presents grammatical difficulties. The word _I_ implies the
imperative, a form of request or demand, though that is
probably not the intent. It seems to be a means, authorized
by poetical license, of ascribing honor and tabu-glory to
the name of the person eulogized, who, the context leads the
author to think, was Kekaulike. The island names other than
that of Maui seem to have been thrown in for poetical effect,
as that king, in the opinion of the author, had no power over
Kauai, Oahu, or Hawaii. The purpose may have been to assert
that his glory reached to those islands.]

[Footnote 228: _Keawe enaena_. Keawe, whose tabu was hot as a
burning oven. Presumably Keawe, the son of Umi, is the one
meant.]

[Footnote 229: _Naulu_. The sea-breeze at Waimea, Kauai.]

[Footnote 230: _Hala-lii_. A sandy plain on Niihau, where grows
a variety of sugar-cane that lies largely covered by the
loose soil, _ke ko eli o Hala-lii_.]

[Footnote 231: _Li’u-la_. The mirage, a common phenomenon on
Niihau, and especially at Mana, on Kauai.]

[Translation.]

_Song_

(Distinct utterance)

Wanahili bides the whole night with Manu’a,
By trumpet hailed through broad Hawaii,
By the white vaulting conch of Kiha—
Great Kiha, offspring of Pii-lani,
5 Father of eight-branched Kama-lala-walu
The far-roaming eye now sparkles with joy,
Whose energy erstwhile shook mountains,
The king who firm-bound the isles in one state,
His glory, symboled by four human altars,
10 Reaches Kauai, Oahu, Maui,
Hawaii the eld of Keawe,
Whose tabu, burning with blood-red blaze,
Shoots flame-tongues that leap with the wind,
The breeze from the mountain, the Naulu.
15 Waihoa humps its back, while cold Mikioi
Blows fierce and swift across Hala-li’i.
It vaunts like a king at Kekaha,
Flaunting itself in the sun’s heat,
And lifts itself up in mirage,
20 Ghost-forms of woods and trees in Kekaha—
Sweeping o’er waste Kala-ihi, Water-of-Lono;
While the sun shoots forth its fierce rays—
Its heat, perchance, reaches to Honua-ula.

The mele next given takes its local color from Kauai and
brings vividly to mind the experiences of one who has climbed
the mountain walls _pali_, that buffet the winds of its
northern coast.

_Mele_

Kalalau, pali eku i ka makani;
Pu ka Lawa-kua,[232] hoi mau i Kolo-kini;
Nu a anahulu ka pa ana i-uka—
Anahulu me na po keu elua.

[Page 102] 5 Elua Hono-pu o ia kua kanaka;
Elua Ko’a-mano[233] me Wai-aloha,
Ka pali waha iho, waha iho[234] me ke kua;
Ke keiki puu iloko o ka pali nui.
E hii an’[235] e Makua i Kalalau.

[Footnote 232: _Lawa-kua._ A wind in Kalalau that blows for a
time from the mountains and then, it is said, veers to the
north, so that it comes from the direction of a secondary
valley, Kolo-kini, a branch of Kalalau. The bard describes it
as continuing to blow for twelve nights before It shifts, an
instance, probably, of poetic license.]

[Footnote 233: _Ko’a-mano_. A part of the ocean into which the
stream Wai-aloha falls.]

[Footnote 234: _Waha iho_. With mouth that yawns downward,
referring, doubtless, to the overarching of the _pali_,
precipice. The same figure is applied to the back (_kua_) of
the traveler who climbs it.]

[Footnote 235: Elision of the final _a_ in _ana_.]

[Translation.]

_Song_

The mountain walls of Kalalau
Buffet the blasts of Lawa-kau,
That surge a decade of nights and twain;
Then, wearied, it veers to the north.

5 Two giant backs stand the cliffs Hono-pu;
The falls Wai-aloha mate with the sea:
An overhung pali—the climber’s back swings in
Its mouth—to face it makes one a child—
Makua, whose arms embrace Kalalau.

The mind of the ancient bard was so narrowly centered on the
small plot his imagination cultivated that he disregarded the
outside world, forgetting that it could not gaze upon the
scenes which filled his eyes.

The valley of Kalalau from its deep recess in the
northwestern coast of Kauai looks out upon the heaving waters
of the Pacific. The mountain walls of the valley are abrupt,
often overhanging. Viewed from the ocean, the cliffs are
piled one upon another like the buttresses of a Gothic
cathedral. The ocean is often stormy, and during several
months in the year forbids intercourse with other parts of
the island, save as the hardy traveler makes his way along
precipitous mountain trails.

The hula _ala’a-papa_, hula _ipu_, hula _pa-ipu_ (or
_kuolo_), the hula _hoo-naná_, and the hula _ki’i_ were all
performed to the accompaniment of the ipu or calabash, and,
being the only ones that were so accompanied, if the author
is correctly informed, they may be classed together under one
head as the calabash hulas.

[Page 103]

XII.—THE HULA PAHU

The hula _pahu_ was so named from the _pahu_,[236] or drum,
that was its chief instrument of musical accompaniment (pl.
x).

[Footnote 236: Full form, _pahu-hula_.]

It is not often that the story of an institution can be so
closely fitted to the landmarks of history as in the case of
this hula; and this comes about through our knowledge of the
history of the pahu itself. Tradition, direct and reliable,
informs us that the credit of introducing the big drum
belongs to La’a. This chief flourished between five and six
centuries ago, and from having spent most of his life in the
lands to the south, which the ancient Hawaiians called
Kahiki, was himself generally styled La’a-mai-Kahiki
(La’a-from-Kahiki). The young man was of a volatile
disposition, given to pleasure, and it is evident that the
big drum he brought with him to Hawaii on one of his voyages
from Kahiki was in his eyes by no means the least important
piece of baggage that freighted his canoes. On nearing the
land he waked the echoes with the stirring tones of his drum,
which so astonished the people that they followed him from
point to point along the coast and heaped favors upon him
whenever he came ashore.

La’a was an enthusiastic patron of the hula and is said to
have made a tour of the islands, in which he instructed the
natives in new forms of this seductive pastime, one of which
was the hula _ka-eke_.

There is reason to believe, it seems, that the original use
of the pahu was in connection with the services of the
temple, and that its adaptation to the halau was simply a
transference from one to another religious use.

The hula pahu was preeminently a performance of formal and
dignified character, not such as would be extemporized for
the amusement of an irreverent company. Like all the formal
hulas, it was tabu, by which the Hawaiians meant that it was
a religious service, or so closely associated with the notion
of worship as to make it an irreverence to trifle with it.
For this reason as well as for its intrinsic dignity its
performance was reserved for the most distinguished guests
and the most notable occasions.

Both classes of actors took part in the performance of the
hula pahu, the olapa contributing the mele as they stood and
went through the motions of the dance, while the hoopaa
maintained the kneeling position and operated the big drum
with the left hand. While his left hand was thus engaged, the
[Page 104] musician with a thong held in his right hand struck a tiny
drum, the _pu-niu_, that was conveniently strapped to the
thigh of the same side. As its name signifies, the pu-niu was
made from coconut shell, being headed with fish-skin.

The harmonious and rhythmic timing of these two instruments
called for strict attention on the part of the performer. The
pahu, having a tone of lower pitch and greater volume than
the other, was naturally sounded at longer intervals, while
the pu-niu delivered its sharp crisp tones in closer order.

_Mele_

(Ko’i-honua)

O Hilo oe, Hilo, muliwai a ka ua i ka lani,
I hana ia Hilo, ko-í ana e ka ua.
E haló ko Hilo ma i-o, i-anei;
Lenalena Hilo e, panopano i ka ua.
5 Ua lono Pili-keko o Hilo i ka wai;
O-kakala ka hulu o Hilo i ke anu;
Ua ku o ka paka a ka ua i ke one;
Ua moe oni ole Hilo i-luna ke alo;
Ua hana ka uluna lehu o Hana-kahi.
10 Haule ka onohi Hilo o ka ua i ke one;
Loku kapa ka hi-hilo kai o Pai-kaka.
Ha, e!

2

A Puna au, i Kuki’i au, i Ha’eha’e,
Ike au i ke a kino-lau lehua.
He laau malalo o ia pohaku.
Hanohano Puna e, kehakeha i ka ua,
5 Káhiko mau no ia no-laila.
He aina haaheo loa no Puna;
I haaheo i ka hala me ka lehua;
He maikai maluna, he a malalo;
He kelekele ka papa o Mau-kele.
10 Kahuli Apua e, kele ana i Mau-kele.

[Translation.]

_Song_

(Bombastic style)

Thou art Hilo, Hilo, flood-gate of heaven.
Hilo has power to wring out the rain.
Let Hilo turn here and turn there;
Hilo’s kept from employ, somber with rain;
5 Pili-keko roars with full stream;
The feathers of Hilo bristle with cold,
And her hail-stones smite on the sand.
She lies without motion, with upturned face,
The fire-places pillowed with ashes;
10 The bullets of rain are slapping the land,
Pitiless rain turmoiling Pai-kaka.
So, indeed.
[Page 105]
2

In Puna was I, in Ku-ki’i, in Ha’e-ha’e,
I saw a wraith of lehua, a burning bush,
A fire-tree beneath the lava plate.
Magnificent Puna, fertile from rain,
5 At all times weaving its mantle.
Aye Puna’s a land of splendor,
Proudly bedight with palm and lehua;
Beauteous above, but horrid below,
And miry the plain of Mau-kele.
10 Apua upturned, plod on to Mau-kele.

_Mele_

Kau lilua i ke anu Wai-aleale;
He maka halalo ka lehua makanoe;[237]
He lihilihi kuku ia no Aipo,[238] e;
O ka hulu a’a ia o Hau-a-iliki;[239]
5 Ua pehi ’a e ka ua a éha ka nahele,

Maui ka pua, uwe éha i ke anu,
I ke kukuna la-wai o Mokihana.[240]
Ua hana ia aku ka pono a ua pololei;
Ua hai ’na ia aku no ia oe;
10 O ke ola no ia.

O kia’i loko, kia’i Ka-ula,[241]
Nana i ka makani, hoolono ka leo,
Ka halulu o ka Malua-kele;[242]
Kiei, halo i Maka-ike-ole.

15 Kamau ke ea i ka halau[243] a ola;
He kula lima ia no Wawae-noho,[244]
Me he puko’a hakahaka la i Waahila
Ka momoku a ka unu-lehua o Lehua.
A lehulehu ka hale pono ka noho ana,

20 Loaa kou haawina—o ke aloha,
Ke hauna[245] mai nei ka puka o ka hale.
Ea!

[Footnote 237: _Lehua makanoe_. The lehua trees that grow on
the top of Wai-aleale, the mountain mass of Kauai, are of
peculiar form, low, stunted, and so furzy as to be almost
thorny, _kuku_, as mentioned in the next line.]

[Footnote 238: _Ai-po_. A swamp that occupies the summit basin
of the mountain, in and about which the thorny lehua trees
above mentioned stand as a fringe.]

[Footnote 239: _Hau-a-iliki_. A word made up of _hau_, dew or
frost, and _iliki_, to smite. The _a_ is merely a
connective.]

[Footnote 240: _Mokihana_. The name of a region on the flank of
Wai-aleale, also a plant that grows there, whose berry is
fragrant and is used in making wreaths.]

[Footnote 241: _Ka-ula_. A small rocky island visible from
Kauai.]

[Footnote 242: _Malua-kele_. A wind.]

[Footnote 243: _Halau_. The shed or house which sheltered the
canoe, _wa’a_, which latter, as we have seen, was often used
figuratively to mean the human body, especially the body of a
woman. _Kamau ke ea i ka halau_ might be translated
“persistent the breath from her body.” “There’s kames o’
hinny ’tween my luve’s lips.”]

[Footnote 244: _Wawae-noho_. Literally the foot that abides; it
is the name of a place. Here it is to be understood as
meaning constancy. It is an instance in which the concrete
stands for the abstract.]

[Footnote 245: _Hauna_. An odor. In this connection it means
the odor that hangs about a human habitation. The hidden
allusion, it is needless to say, is to sexual
attractiveness.]
[Page 106]

[Translation.]

_Song_

Wai-aleale stands haughty and cold,
Her lehua bloom, fog-soaked, droops pensive;
The thorn-fringe set about swampy Ai-po is
A feather that flaunts in spite of the pinching frost.
5 Her herbage is pelted, stung by the rain;

Bruised all her petals, and moaning in cold
Mokihana’s sun, his wat’ry beams.
I have acted in good faith and honor,
My complaint is only to you—
10 A matter that touches my life.

Best watch within and toward Ka-ula;
Question each breeze, note every rumor,
Even the whisper of Malua-kele.
Search high and search low, unobservant.

15 There is life in the breath from her body,
Fond caress by a hand not inconstant.
Like fissured groves of coral
Stand the ragged clumps of lehua.
Many the houses, easy the life.

20 You have your portion—of love;
Humanity smells at the door.
Aye, indeed.

The imagery of this poem is peculiarly obscure and the
meaning difficult of translation. The allusions are so local
and special that their meaning does not carry to a distance.

Wai-aleale is the central mountain mass of Kauai, about 6,000
feet high. Its summit, a cold, fog-swept wilderness of swamp
and lake beset with dwarfish growths of lehua, is used as the
symbol of a woman, impulsively kind, yet in turn passionate
and disdainful. The physical attributes of the mountain are
ascribed to her, its spells of frosty coldness, its gloom and
distance, its fickleness of weather, the repellant
hirsuteness of the stunted vegetation that fringes the
central swamp—these things are described as symbols of her
temper, character, and physical make-up. The bloom and
herbage of the wilderness, much pelted by the storm, are
figures to represent her physical charms. But spite of all
these faults and imperfections, a perennial fragrance, as of
mokihana, clings to her person, and she is the object of
devoted love, capable of weaving the spell of fascination
about her victims.

This poem furnishes a good example of a peculiarity that
often is an obstacle to the understanding of Hawaiian poetry.
It is the breaking up of the composition into a number of
parts that have but a loose seeming connection the one with
the other.

[Page 107]

XIII.—THE HULA ÚLI-ULÍ

The hula _úli-ulí_ was so called from the rattle which was
its sole instrument of accompaniment. This consisted of a
small gourd about the size of a large orange, into the cavity
of which were put shot-like seeds, like those of the canna; a
handle was then attached (pl. xi).

The actors who took part in this hula belonged, it is said,
to the class termed hoopaa, and went through with the
performance while kneeling or squatting, as has been
described. While cantillating the mele they held the rattle,
_úli-ulí_, in the right hand, shaking it against the palm of
the other hand or the thigh, or making excursions in one
direction and another. In some performances of this hula
which the author has witnessed the olapa also took part, in
one case a woman, who stood and cantillated the song with
movement and gesture, while the hoopaa devoted themselves
exclusively to handling the úli-ulí rattles.

The sacrificial offerings that preceded the old-time
performances of this hula are said to have been awa and a
roast porkling, in honor of the goddess Laka.

If the dignity and quality of the meles now used, or reported
to have been used, in the hula _úli-ulí_ are to be taken as
any criterion of the quality and dignity of this hula, one
has to conclude that it must be assigned to a rank below that
of some others, such, for instance, as the _ala’a-papa_,
_pa-ipu_, _Pele_, and others.

David Malo, the Hawaiian historian, author of _Ka Moolelo
Hawaii_,[246] in the short chapter that he devotes to the hula,
mentions only ten hulas by name, the _ka-laau_,
_pa’i-umauma_, _pahu_, _pahu’a_, _ala’a-papa_, _pa’i-pa’i_,
_pa-ipu_, _ulili_, _kolani_, and the _kielei_. _Ulili_ is but
another form of the word _úli-ulí_. Any utterance of Malo is
to be received seriously; but it seems doubtful if he
deliberately selected for mention the ten hulas that were
really the most important. It seems more probable that he set
down the first ten that stood forth prominent in his memory.
It was not Malo’s habit, nor part of his education, to make
an exhaustive list of sports and games, or in fact of
anything. He spoke of what occurred to him. It must also be
remembered that, being an ardent convert to Christianity,
[Page 108] Malo felt himself conscience-bound to set himself in
opposition to the amusements, sports, and games of his
people, and he was unable, apparently, to see in them any
good whatsoever. Malo was a man of uncompromising honesty and
rigidity of principles. His nature, acting under the new
influences that surrounded him after the introduction of
Christianity, made it impossible for him to discriminate
calmly between the good and the pernicious, between the
purely human and poetic and the depraved elements in the
sports practised by his people during their period of
heathenism. There was nothing halfway about Malo. Having
abandoned a system, his nature compelled him to denounce it
root and branch.

[Footnote 246: Translated by N.B. Emerson, M.D., under the
title “Hawaiian Antiquities,” and published by the B.P.
Bishop Museum. Hawaiian Gazette Company (Limited), Honolulu,
1903.]

The first mele here offered as an accompaniment to this hula
can boast of no great antiquity; it belongs to the middle of
the nineteenth century, and was the product of some gallant
at a time when princes and princesses abounded in Hawaii:

_Mele_

Aole i manao ia.
Kahi wai a o Alekoki.
Hookohu ka ua i uka,
Noho mai la i Nuuanu.
5 Anuanu, makehewa au
Ke kali ana i-laila.
Ea ino paha ua paa
Kou manao i ane’i,
Au i hoomalu ai.
10 Hoomalu oe a malu;
Ua malu keia kino
Mamuli a o kou leo.
Kau nui aku ka manao
Kani wai a o Kapena.
15 Pani’a paa ia mai
Na manowai a o uka;
Ahu wale na ki’owai,
Na papa-hale o luna.
Maluna a’e no wau,
20 Ma ke kuono liilii.
A waho, a o Mamala,
Hao mai nei ehu-ehu;
Pulu au i ka huna-kai,
Kai heahea i ka ili.
25 Hookahi no koa nui,
Nana e alo ia ino.
Ino-ino mai nei luna,
I ka hao a ka makani.
He makani ahai-lono;
30 Lohe ka luna i Pelekane.
O ia pouli nui
Mea ole i ku’u manao.
I o, i a-ne’i au,
Ka piina la o Ma’ema’e,
[Page 109] 35 E kilohi au o ka nani
Na pua i Mauna-ala.
He ala ona-ona kou,
Ke pili mai i ane’i,
O a’u lehua ula i-luna,
40 Ai ono a na manu.

[Translation.]

_Song_

I spurn the thought with disdain
Of that pool Alekoki:
On the upland lingers the rain
And fondly haunts Nuuanu.
5 Sharp was the cold, bootless
My waiting up there.
I thought thou wert true,
Wert loyal to me,
Whom thou laids’t under bonds.
10 Take oath now and keep it;
This body is sacred to thee,
Bound by the word of thy mouth.
My heart leaps up at thought
Of the pool, pool of Kapena;
15 To me it is fenced, shut off,
The water-heads tightly sealed up.
The fountains must be a-hoarding,
For skies are ever down-pouring;
The while I am lodged up aloft,
20 Bestowed in the cleft of a rock.
Now, tossed by sea at Mamala,
The wind drives wildly the surf;
I’m soaked with the scud of the ocean,
My body is rough with the rime.
25 But one stout hero and soldier,
With heart to face such a storm.
Wild scud the clouds,
Hurled by the tempest,
A tale-bearing wind,
30 That gossips afar.
The darkness and storm
Are nothing to me.
This way and that am I turning,
Climbing the hill Ma’e-ma’e,
35 To look on thy charms, dear one,
The fragrant buds of the mountain.
What perfume breathes from thy body,
Such time as to thee I come close,
My scarlet bloom of lehua
40 Yields nectar sought by the birds.

This mele is said to have been the production of Prince
[Page 110] William Lunalilo—afterward King of the Hawaiian islands—and
to have been addressed to the Princess Victoria Kamamalu,
whom he sought in marriage. Both of them inherited high chief
rank, and their offspring, according to Hawaiian usage, would
have outranked her brothers, kings Kamehameha IV and V.
Selfish and political considerations, therefore, forbade the
match, and thereby hangs a tale, the shadow of which darkens
this song. Every lover is one part poet; and Lunalilo, even
without the love-flame, was more than one part poet.

The poem shows the influence of foreign ways and teachings
and the pressure of the new environment that had entered
Hawaii, in its form, in the moderation of its language and
imagery, and in the coherence of its parts; at the same time
the spirit of the song and the color of its native imagery
mark it as the product of a Polynesian mind.

According to the author’s interpretation of the song,
_Alekoki_ (verse 2), a name applied to a portion of the
Nuuanu stream lower down than the basin and falls of _Kapena_
(_Kahiwai a o Kapena_—verse 14), symbolizes a flame that may
once have warmed the singer’s imagination, but which he
discards in favor of his new love, the pool of Kapena. The
rain, which prefers to linger in the upland regions of Nuuanu
(verses 3 and 4) and which often reaches not the lower
levels, typifies his brooding affection. The cold, the storm,
and the tempest that rage at _Mamala_ (verse 21)—a name
given to the ocean just outside Honolulu harbor—and that
fill the heavens with driving scud (verses 27 and 28)
represent the violent opposition in high quarters to the
love-match. The tale-bearing wind, _makani ahai-lono_ (verse
29), refers, no doubt, to the storm of scandal. The use of
the place-names _Ma’ema’e_ and _Mauna-ala_ seem to indicate
Nuuanu as the residence of the princess.

_Mele_

PALE I

Auhea wale oe, e ka Makani Inu-wai?
Pa kolonahe i ka ili-kai,
Hoonui me ka Naulu,
Na ulu hua i ka hapapa.
5 Anó au ike i ke ko Hala-li’i,
I keia wa nana ia Lehua.

PALE II

Aia i Waimea ku’u haku-lei?
Hui pu me ka wai ula iliahi,
Mohala ka pua i ke one o Pawene;
10 Ka lawe a ke Koolau
Noho pu me ka ua punonohu ula i ka nahele,
Ike i ka wai kea o Makaweli;
[Page 111] Ua noho pu i ka nahele
Me ka lei hinahina o Maka-li’i.
15 Liilii ka uka o Koae’a;
Nana i ka ua lani-pili,
Ka ó-ó, manu le’a o ka nahele.

I Pa-ie-ie au, noho pu me ke anu.
E ha’i a’e oe i ka puana:
20 Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele.

[Translation.]

_Song_

CANTO I

Whence art thou, thirsty wind,
That gently kissest the sea,
Then, wed to the ocean breeze,
Playest fan with the breadfruit tree?
5 Here sprawl Hala-lii’s canes,
There stands bird-haunted Lehua.