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Here once the mighty Atua had his dwelling In mystery, And hence weird sounds were heard at midnight, swelling Across the sea.
Here once the Haka sounded; and din of battle Shook the grey crags, Triumphant shout, and agonized death-rattle Startled the shags.
And now such peace upon this isthmus narrow, With Maori blood Once red!—these heaps of stones,—a greenstone arrow Rough-hewn and rude!
Gone is the Atua, and the hillsides lonely, The warriors dead; No sight, no sound! the weird wild wailing only Of gull instead.
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