  The eminence of Akani-kolea stood near at hand and offered Paoa a vantage ground for better contemplation of the mysterious earth-pit, and when the first tide of emotion had swept by thither he repaired. Looking down into the desolate abyss, his gaze centered on a group of human figures, beautiful women, seated on the vast plates of pahoehoe that made the floor of the caldera. He saw but four of them, Pele herself not being visible. He had no clue as to their identity and was only impressed as by the sight of beautiful women who were to him as goddesses. The grandeur and strangeness of the scene moved him to song: Hulihia ka Mauna, Wela i ke ahi a ka Wahine; Wela na ohi’a o Kulili i ka ua; Wela, a nopu ke ahi o ka Lua. Ai kamumu, nakeke ka pahoehoe; Wela, a iluna o Hale-ma’uma’u; Malu ka pali o Ka-au-eÄ. Auwe, e Hiiaka-i-ka-poli-o-Pele, e, E ola, e, e ola Lohiau-ipo, I ka pali o KeÉ, i Haena, e! TRANSLATION Destruction and turmoil in the Pit: The fires of the Woman have done it— Consuming the forests of Ku-lili— Fires that boil from the depths of the Pit, Shaking the stone-plates till they rattle. It’s furnace-hot in that House-of-fern, But there’s shelter at Ka-au-eÄ. Oh Hiiaka of Pele’s heart, Life to thee, and life to dear Lohiau— Soul plucked by thee from death at KeÉ, Death in the cliff KeÉ, at Haena. Pele, in the retirement of her gloomy cavern, was quite out of the range of Paoa’s eye-shot, but his voice rang in her ears distinctly. “What a handsome man is that standing on the edge of the cliff at Akani-kolea!” exclaimed Pele’s women, unable to repress their admiration. “Call to him and invite him to come down here where we can talk together,” said Pele. “Way up there on the pali wall—that’s no place for us to talk and become acquainted with each other. Tell him to come down here and we’ll discuss matters great and small, look upon the large stem and the small stem; see one another face to face; learn each other’s heart’s desire.” For all her fine words. Pele did not at once come forward and meet her visitor face to face. She lay unrecognized in her stygian boudoir, to all appearance a withered hag. Paoa, well versed in the wiles of Woman, adept in the logomachies and etiquettes of court-life, was quite put to his trumps and found it necessary to summon all his diplomacy and exercise “What might be the purpose of your pilgrimage?” she asked. “I come in answer to the call of my friend, Lohiau.” “But Lohiau is dead,” chorused the women. “Yes, dead! And what was the cause of his death?” “He kissed Hiiaka,” the woman answered. “Ah! but who killed him?” “Pele.” Her voice sank to a whisper, and the name she uttered was to be made out, or guessed at, rather by a study of the protruding lips and the sympathetic arching of the brow than by any sound emitted. Her eyes also made a half-turn in the direction of Pele’s cave. “He came to Hawaii in the expectation that Pele would be his life.” Paoa spoke with thoughtful deliberation. “How came it about that she should cause his death?” … After a moment’s pause, he continued: “He tasted death once at Haena and, now, again, here, on this barren … a second death, and through the wrath of Pele!” Pele roused herself at this and spoke up: “What is that you say? that Lohiau died at Haena?” “Yes, he tasted of death there,” Paoa answered firmly. “How, then, did he become alive again?” asked Pele sharply. “Hiiaka, she treated him, and by her gracious skill and power brought his soul and body together again. That done, they sailed away for Hawaii.” The eyes of Pele were literally, as well as metaphorically, opened. She turned herself about and, in a lowered voice, with a show of astonishment, for the first time, addressed Hiiaka: “Is this true, that you worked over Lohiau and restored him to life?” “It is true, and it is also true that, not until you had put to death Hopoe, did I bestow any dalliance or caress of love upon Lohiau.” Hiiaka’s expression as she faced Pele was such as might have sat upon the countenance of a judge passing sentence on a confessed criminal at the bar. Pele sat impenetrable, sphinxlike, deep in her own labyrinthine Paoa broke the silence: “Shall not Lohiau, then, live again?” “Go back to Haena,” said Pele, “and when you hear that Lohiau lives again, then will be the time for you to come and take him home.” “That would be well, then,” said Paoa. A spell of confusion, of enchantment, seemed now to fall upon the man whilom so boastful. “But where is Pele?” he asked, looking from face to face. “That is Pele,” said the goddess, pointing to her sister Wave (Hiiaka-i-ka-ale-i). “I have a sign by which I may know Pele; let me apply the test to these women,” said Paoa. The company could but agree to this; whereupon, beginning with Wave, he took each one of them in turn by the hand, carrying it to his cheek, the better to test its warmth, holding the hollow to his ear to catch any murmur that might reverberate from it. Each hand he found to be only of natural heat. Turning, then, to Pele herself, he proposed to inspect her hand. At this the goddess drew back. “If none of these beautiful women is Pele, how can you think that a wrinkled old woman like me is the divine and beautiful Pele?” Paoa insisted and Pele had to consent. He reached out and took her hand and, on the instant, dropped it; it was burning hot. “This is Pele!” he exclaimed. Paoa stood in awed silence before the goddess. Resentment and thoughts of revenge, like evil birds, had taken flight. At Pele’s command, the women led him away to take refreshment in the sacred dining hall of Mauli-ola. Before seating himself, Paoa uttered this memorable pule, a mele that has drifted down to us from the wa po: Hulihia ke au, ka papa honua o kona moku; Hulihia, kulia mai ka moku o Kahiki— Aina no Kahiki i ka la kahi, Aina ho’owali’a e Haumea: Ho-omoe aku la Kahiki-ku, Kulapa mai ka ulu wela, o mai ke ahi. Keehi aku la no e nalo Kapua’i akua no Pele. Ke ke’ekeehi wale la no i ka lani; Haule, u’ina i Polapola; Noho i ka lau ha’a o ka moku. Hina Kukulu o Kahiki; Hina ka omuku i ka makani; Hina ka pae opua ki’i ke ao; Hina ka onohi ula Kanewenewe opua i ke kai. EÄ mai ana ma Nihoa, Ma ka mole mai o Lehua, Mai Kaua’i nui a Oahu, a Moloka’i, Lana’i a Kanaloa, mai Maui a Hawaii, Ka Wahine—o Pele—i hi’a i kana ahi A Á pulupulu, kukuni, wela ka lani: He uwila ku’i no ka honua; Hekili pa’apa’ina i ke ao; Pohaku puoho, lele iluna; Opa’ipa’i wale ka Mauna; Pipili ka lani, pa’a iÄ moku. Nalo Hawaii i ka uahi a ka Wahine, I ka lili a ke Akua. Oliliku ka ua mai ka lani; Lili ana ho’i i kana ahi; Lili ana ho’i Pele Hama-hamau ka leo, mai pane! Eia Pele, ko’u Akua! Ke lauwili nei ka makani; Hoanoano mai ana na eho lapa uwila; Hekili wawahi ka lani; Ku loloku ka ua i uka; Ku’i ka hekili, nei ke ola’i; Lele kapu i kai. Hiki lele ai i lalo o Kane-lu-honua. O Kane-pua-hiÖhiÖ, wili,— Wili ia i uka, wili ia i kai; Wili ia i luna, wili ia i lalo; Wili ia i ka uÄ, I ka hoÖle akua, hoÖle mana— Ka ho’o-malau, Ke A-papa-nu’u, O Mano-ka-lani-po, Hulu o manu kiÜ, o manu ahiahi; O manu aha’i lono:— Ha’ina a’e ana ka mana o ko’u Akua Iwaho nei la, e; ha’ina ho’i! Kukulu ka pahu kapu a ka leo: He ala No Kane, laua o Kanaloa; He ki He kai He kua No Pele, no ko’u Akua, la! TRANSLATION There’s turmoil and heaving of strata In the land She claimed for her own. Kahiki was land at the dawn of time, A land by Haumea mixed and tempered; Then She spread out Kahiki-ku; She kindled her fires; the flames leapt high. The Goddess covers her footprints— The foot-marks of Goddess Pele— She treads the path of the heavens; Swoops down and lands at Polapola. She dwells in the level island plain. Down fall the pillars of Kakihi; The wind topples over the ruins; Down tumble the sun-kissing clouds; Down sinks the blood-red eye of Heaven And big-bellied clouds that loom at sea. Pele heaves in sight at Nihoa— That limpet stuck to Lehua’s base. From famed Kaua’i to Oahu; Thence on to Mother Hina’s isle; To Lana’i of Kanaloa; To Mani and, last, to Hawaii: This the route of the Woman—Pele. Then she rubs her fire-sticks to a blaze: Up flames her touchwood, kindling the heavens. Earth sees the flash of lightning, hears the boom Of thunder echoed by mountain walls— Rocks flung in space bombard the day, Shaking the mountain to its base. The firmament sags, clings to the earth; Hawaii is lost in Her smoke, At the passion-heat of the Goddess. Down clatters the rain from the sky— A damper this to the Goddess’ fires; It rouses the wrath of Pele. Keep silence! retort not! never a word! ’Tis the voice of Pele; she’s my God. The wind veers; there’s far-off corruscation; The thunder wrenches heaven’s gates; A sobbing of rain in the mountains, The crash of thunder and earthquake; Old tabus take flight to the ocean. Now starts up the Earth-shaker Kane, And Kane, the whirl-wind-breeder— A tempest-whirl, o’er mountain and sea; A tempest-whirl, in heaven and on earth; A tempest-whirl, sodden with rain, The atheist and the skeptic, The scorner and unbeliever— Powers of the under-world and the air.— The hero Mano-ka-lani-pÓ, His emblem a feathery wreath— Plume from the bird that spies and tattles, From the bird that makes proclamation, Declaring the might, the power, of my God; Out here, in the open, declare it. Proclaim the edict of silence— A short way, a true way, this way Of Kane, of Kanaloa— Compact this and bind in one bundle; Let Ocean then swallow the rest. A jealous flame is Pele’s back: That is the law of Pele, of my God! This pule, which I have heard spoken of as ka pule kanawai—from the use of the word kanawai in the last part of the mele, dates back, it is said, to the time of Paao, the priest and chief who Before leaving the subject—the consideration of the mele—I must mention, apropos of the expression pahu kapu a ka leo, in verse 54, an incident related to me by a Hawaiian friend (J.M. P.). He says that when he was a boy, his mother, when a thunder-storm arose, would often say to him, “keep silence! that’s Kane-hekili.” In Kahuku, island of Oahu, at a place not far from the sugar-mill, is a cave, known as Keana. In former times this cave was the home where lived a mother and her two sons. One day, having occasion to journey to a distance, she left them with this injunction, “If during my absence you hear the sound of thunder, keep still, make no disturbance, don’t utter a word. If you do it will be your death.” During her absence, there sprang up a violent storm of thunder and lightning, and the young lads made an outcry of alarm. Thereupon a thunderbolt struck them dead, turning their bodies into stone. Two pillar-shaped stones standing at the mouth of the cave are to this day pointed out in confirmation of the truth of the legend. As Paoa concluded his prayer-song the eyes of the whole company were turned upon him, and on the lips of them all was the question, “Was she then your God?” “She is my God,” he answered, “and my ancestors from the earliest times have worshipped her.” … Then, turning his eyes about him, as if to survey the land, he continued, “If this were my land, as is Kaua’i, there would be no lack of good and wholesome food-provision, and that of all kinds. Things are different here … I am a stranger in this land.” On hearing these words, which had in them the sting of truth, for poison had been mixed with some of the food, the women stealthily hid away certain dishes and substituted for them others. At the conclusion of the repast the women who had been in attendance brought him a girdle delicately embroidered with fibers from the coconut that he might be suitably appareled for his interview with the woman Pele. “You will find,” they said, “that Pele is in reality a woman of wonderful beauty.… In order to win her, however, you will need to use all your arts of fascination … and your caution as well. Make hot love Pele at first kept Paoa at a distance and, with deep subtlety, said to him, “Here are beautiful women—women more beautiful than I—take one of them.” Paoa, well schooled in courtly etiquette and logomachy, was not tripped up by any such snare as Pele laid for him. He stood his ground and faced the god as an equal. As Pele contemplated Paoa it dawned upon her that here stood a man, a being of gracious power, one who combined in himself qualities—attractions—she had never before seen materially embodied in the human form. The woman in Pele laid aside the god—the akua—and came to the front. All thought of bantering talk and word-play slunk away: her whole being was sobered and lifted up. The change in her outward, physical appearance kept pace with the inward: the rough armor that had beset her like the prongs of horned coral, both without and within, melted and dropped away; the haglike wrinkles ceased to furrow her profile. Her whole physical being took on the type of womanly perfection. And what of Paoa, the man who had come with heart full of bitterness, determined on revenge? He was conquered, overwhelmed. Their meeting was that of lovers, who stood abashed in each other’s presence. Pele’s beauty and charm were like that of a young bride coming to the nuptial couch.… The dalliance and love-making of Pele and Paoa was a honeymoon that continued for three days and three nights. By virtue of this mysterious union with the goddess, Paoa acquitted himself of a ceremonial duty, as it were, and thus gained Pele’s dispensation from further obligations to her bed and the liberty of exercising free choice among all the beautiful women that thronged Pele’s court. It was there he made his abode until the time for his return to his own Kaua’i. |
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