hid in the shade of the house his impotent anger and shame. Now Támatéa the fool was far on his homeward way, The rising night in his face, behind him the dying day. Rahéro saw him go by, and the heart of Rahéro was glad, Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to the lad; And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted him well, For he had the face of a friend and the news of the town to tell; And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased that his journey was done, Támatéa drew homeward, turning his back to the sun.
And now was the hour of the bath in Taiárapu: far and near The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted his ear. Night massed in the valleys; the sun on the mountain coast Struck, end-long; and above the clouds embattled their host, And glowed and gloomed on the heights; and the heads of the palms were gems, And far to the rising eve extended the shade of their stems; And the shadow of Támatéa hovered already at home. And sudden the sound of one coming and running light as the foam Struck on his ear; and he turned, and lo! a man on his track, Girded and armed with an ómare, following hard at his back. At a bound the man was upon him;—and, or ever a word was said, The loaded end of the ómare fell and laid him dead.