Drive their boats to crash and shatter
On the rocky surf-bound islands.
Bring the west-wind! Bring the fogbanks!'

From the ocean came the west-wind,
Blowing stronger, growing cooler,
Bringing in protecting fog-banks,
Sweeping landward o'er gray waters,
Flooding through the Golden Gateway,
Rolling over shore and headlands.

Through the fog the boats were racing
For the entrance to the harbor,
When they plunged into the smother
Of the breakers round the islands -
Crashed upon the rocks and splintered.
From the surf the foemen struggled
To the rocks and scrambled on them.

Then the Maiden plucked another
Petal from the Magic Iris,
And she prayed again, 'Oh, Spirit
Of our Native Country, hear us,
Change the foemen to Sea-creatures,
That they never more attack us.'

As the magic petal fluttered
To the ground the foe was changing.
Arms and paddles changed to flippers;
Legs were bound as in a bandage,