Page:Ballads, Stevenson, 1890.djvu/42

 A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks of fire,

But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and admire.

And Rahéro regarded her also, fixed, with a frowning face,

Judging the woman's fitness to mother a warlike race.

Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh,

Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his eye.

"Woman," said he, "last night the men of your folk—

Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke.

It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man of my hands,

Escaped, a single life; and now to the empty lands

And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with yourself, alone.

Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was thrown

And you selected:—your husband, vainly striving, to fall

Broken between these hands:—yourself to be severed from all,

The places, the people, you love—home, kindred, and clan—

And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kinless man."

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