"Hear me now, you priest of Pele, and ye men of Owhyhee! Hearken! ye who cringe and tremble, at the sound of Kilauea, Fearful of the wrath of Pele, fearful of the lake of fire!-- Priest, I say there is no Pele! Pele is not--never was! Pele lives but in your legends--there is only one true God!" "Cursed, thrice accursed, you who thus great Pele do defy, Here, upon her sacred mountain, of a surety you shall die! Pele, mighty Pele, Vengeance! Strike her with thy dreadful doom! So let every scoffer perish!--Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" And Kapiolani answered--"Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" Loud the mountain roared and thundered; shuddered all who heard and saw, Dauntless stood Kapiolani, dauntless with her faithful few. "Come!" she cried again. "Come, Pele! Smite me with thy dreadful doom! I am waiting, mighty Pele!--Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" And the mountain roared and thundered;--but the goddess did not come. "Hearken, Priest! You have deceived us. All your life has been a lie, Black your heart is, red your hands are, with the blood of those who die. All these years you have misled us with your awful threats of doom. Now it ends! I do defy you, and your goddess I defy. Pele, is not, never has been. All your worship is a lie. "I will climb your sacred mountain. I will dare your lake of fire. I will eat your sacred berries. I will dare your goddess there, There and then to wreak her vengeance, then and there to come in fire, And with awful burnings end me, now and for eternity; But if Pele does not end me, then her worship ends this day." Then the great high priest of Pele turned to fiery Kilauea. "Come!" he said, "the goddess calls you!"--and they climbed the mountain side, Up the slopes of Mauna Loa, to the hell of Kilauea, With the bright blue sky above them, with the blazing sun above them, While the mountain shook beneath them, and its head was wrapped in fire. Fearful, hopeful, all the people crept along the shaking path, Hardly breathing at their daring, thus to brave dread Pele's wrath, Bending low lest she should see them, breathing soft lest she should hear, Certain that Kapiolani would be sacrificed that day, To the vengeance of the goddess, to the anger of Pele. "_As little child On mother's breast, O rest, my heart, Have rest! Who rests on Him Is surely blest. So rest, my heart, Have rest_! _As warrior bold His foes among, Be strong, my heart, Be strong! Who rests on Him Shall ne'er go wrong. Be strong, my heart, Be strong_!" Thus, Kapiolani, dauntless, singing softly as she went, With a face as calm and fearless as a child on pleasure bent, Climbed the side of Mauna Loa, to the dreadful lake of fire, While the mountain shook and thundered, while the people blanched and shuddered, Climbed to Hale-Mau-Mau,--to the dreadful lake of fire.