et us listen to the
warbling of the birds and the cooing of the wood-pigeon. We
will gather flowers ... and partake of refreshments ... we
will then bathe in the sea and ... anoint our skins in the
sun with sweet-scented oil, and will plait in wreaths the
flowers gathered at _Matawlo_. And now, as we stand
motionless on the eminence over _Ana Manoo_, the whistling
of the wind among the branches of the lofty _toa_ shall fill
us with a pleasing melancholy; or our minds shall be seized
with astonishment as we behold the roaring surf below,
endeavoring but in vain to tear away the firm rocks. Oh! how
much happier shall we be thus employed, than when engaged in
the troublesome and insipid affairs of life."

Inasmuch as Mariner did not take notes on the spot, but relied on his
memory after an absence of several years, it is to be feared that the
above passage may not be unadulterated Tongan. The rest of the song
has a certain Biblical tone and style in a few of the sentences which
arouse the suspicion (remember Ossian!) that a missionary may have
edited, if not composed, this song. However that may be, the remainder
of it gives us several pretty glimpses of Tongan amorous customs and
may therefore be cited, omitting a few irrelevant sentences:

"Alas! how destructive is war!--Behold! how it has rendered
the land productive of weeds, and opened untimely graves for
departed heroes! Our chiefs can now no longer enjoy the
sweet pleasure of wandering alone by moonlight in search of
their mistresses: but let us banish sorrow from our hearts:
since we are at war, we must think and act like the natives
of Fiji, who first taught us this destructive art. Let us
therefore enjoy the present time, for to-morrow perhaps or
the next day we may die. We will dress ourselves with _chi
coola_, and put bands of white _tappa_ round our waists: we
will plait thick wreaths of _jiale_ for our heads, and
prepare strings of _hooni_ for our necks, that their
whiteness may show off the color of our skins. Mark how the
uncultivated spectators are profuse of their applause!--But
now the dance is over: let us remain here to-night, and
feast and be cheerful, and to-morrow we will depart for the
_Mooa_. How troublesome are the young men, begging for our
wreaths of flowers, while they say in their flattery, '