Alfred Domett 
Ranolf and Amohia 
A South-Sea Day-Dream

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Ranolf and Amohia.<br><br>Or ring-like tusks upthrusting through<br>The notches of his foaming lips, <br>By constant whetting planed away<br>To chisel-sharpness at their tips:<br>It weakened him – the knife-dig, too, <br>He caught when first commenced the fray;<br>When, as in haste I sprang astride<br>The narrowed gully – just a ditch<br>With flowering koromiko rich -<br>Between my feet the villain drove, <br>And fierce, with short indignant sniffs, <br>And grunts like muttering thunder, strove<br>To gain his haunts beyond the cliffs, <br>And foil the foes he fled from, yet defied.<br><br>"But Nim, my glorious bull-dog! Nim, <br>My mighty hunter of the boar, <br>Who never recked of life or limb<br>That old antagonist before!<br>That rip has finished his career -<br>His last boar-fight is fought; no more<br>He’ll come to greet me as of yore, <br>Wriggling his lithe spine till his tail<br>Whipped his black muzzle in the excess<br>Of cringing canine happiness;<br>No more his genuine love express<br>With such dumb signs and tokens clear, <br>Mock bites and mouthings of the hand, <br>Easy as words to understand.<br>Strange, a mere dog should be so dear!<br>But he is dead, and – done with, must we say?<br>Poor victim of this universal demon-play<br>Of Life – my fate to-morrow, his to-day,