are not like the old voices; it is a different voice now. We come, we come, to see the death of Taraia. The grief now displayed by the Governor is not only now shown for the first time—it has been already seen at the other deaths which have occurred in this land. Taraia is dead, and here is the Governor come to mingle his tears with yours, and to mourn with Te Hira. Welcome your friend the Governor and your man, Mr. McLean. These are the chiefs showing love to the people of the land. Your old chief as well as ours has gone, but here is your old friend come to see you. Wherever grief is felt there are the Governor and Mr. McLean to alleviate the distress. When troubles arise there they are to put them down and restore order and tranquillity. There is now only one thing wanting: that is, a Maori chief to accompany the Governor and your friend Mr. McLean wherever they go. [Song.]
Apanui: Why is it you mention Ngatiraukawa, as if that were the only tribe connected with Taraia? Bid us welcome. Here we come. We are all related to Taraia. Why do not you mention Ngaiterangi, Ngatiawa, Ngatikahungunu, and other tribes, all of whom are also related to Taraia? We have come to the spot where Taraia's body lay. When the sun comes near to setting, he sinks rapidly. What can we do? The road is broad and open; it has been travelled by our ancestors from olden times. [Song] Farewell, farewell, my father.
Moananui: Welcome, welcome, people of the land. Welcome. There are few to welcome you.
