Over northern rim of ocean
Came the war canoes by hundreds,
Came until the waters darkened
With the number of the warboats.
Never could the Tamals conquer
Such a multitude of foemen.
Swiftly rose and fell their paddles,
Flashing in the brilliant sunshine,
Trailing scarfs of foam behind them,
As they raced toward the harbor.

Tana searched the far horizon,
Saw the signal fires blazing
On the mountain tops and headlands,
Heard the war drums in the village
Roll in constant wild alarum.

Yana held the Yellow Iris
With the Magic in its petals,
Held and gazed with adoration
On the velvet mystic markings.
Then she plucked a magic petal,
Held it high, and ere it fluttered
To the breeze this prayer was uttered:

'Spirit of our Native Country,
Goddess guarding home and harbor,
Roll the fog-banks o'er the headlands,
Hide the narrows from the foemen;
Bring the west-wind from the ocean,