Hua, in confusion, fell into a terrible rage, and massacred Uluhoomoe on the spot.  The gods avenged the death of the priest by sending a distressing famine, first on the island of Maui, then on Hawaii.  Hua, thinking to baffle the divine vengeance, went to Hawaii to escape the scourge; but a famine more terrible yet pursued him there.  The chief vainly traversed every quarter of the islands; he starved to death in the temple of Makeanehu (Kohala).  His bones, after death, dried and shrunk in the rays of the burning sun, to which his dead body remained exposed.  This is the origin of the Hawaiian epigram always quoted in recalling the famine which occurred in the reign of Hua, an epigram which no one has understood, and which has never been written correctly: 

Koele na iwi o Hua i ka la—­The bones of Hua are dry in the sun.[E]

On the island of Hawaii are many places called by the name of this celebrated chief.  At Kailua, in the hamlet of Puaaaekolu, a beautiful field, known by the name of Mooniohua, recalls one episode of Hua’s misery.  Here it was that, one day, running after food which he could never attain, he fell asleep, weary with fatigue and want.  The word Mooniohua is probably a corruption of Moe ana o Hua—­The couch of Hua.

THE STORY AND SONG OF KAWELO.

Kawelo, of the island of Kauai, was a sort of giant; handsome, well made, muscular, his prodigious strength defied animate and inanimate nature.  In his early youth, he felt a violent passion kindle in his bowels for the Princess Kaakaukuhimalani, so that he sought in every way to touch her heart.  But the princess, too proud, and too high a lady, did not deign to cast her eyes upon him.

Despairing of making her reciprocate his love, Kawelo poured into his mother’s bosom his grief and his tears.  “Mother,” said he, “how shall I succeed in espousing this proud princess?  What must I do?  Give me your counsel.”

“My son,” replied his mother, “a youth who wishes to please ought to make himself ready at labor, and skillful in fishing; this is the only secret of making a good match.”

Kawelo too eagerly followed his mother’s advice, and soon there was not on the island a more indefatigable planter of kalo, nor a more expert fisherman.  But what succeeds with common women is not always the thing to charm the daughters of kings.  Kaakaukuhimalani could make nothing of a husband who was a skillful farmer or a lucky fisherman; other talents are required to touch the hearts of nobles, and hers remained indifferent, insensible to the sighs of Kawelo.  Nobles then, as to-day, regarded pleasure above all things; and a good comedian was worth more to them than an honest workman.

In his great perplexity, Kawelo consulted an old dancing-master, who told him, “Dancing and poetry are the arts most esteemed and appreciated by those in power.  Come with me into the mountains.  I will instruct you, and if you turn out an accomplished dancer, you will have a sure means of pleasing the insensible Kaakaukuhimalani.”  Kawelo listened to the advice of the poet dancing-master, and withdrew into the mountains to pursue his duties.