I MM THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES *4-» * Tvj ON THE BIRTH OF THE FIRSTBORN. Methinks that I can see thee lie So peacefully at rest, Thine arm around the angel babe That's nestling at thy breast. A look of satisfaction trace Upon thy youthful brow, A happy smile of holy joy ; Thou art a mother now. Thine own, that little angel form, One of the Saviour's lambs ; Thine own to shield from earthly storm, To tend with loving hands. God's given thee thy heart's desire, Thou hast thy little one ; may He long be pleased to spare Thee, mother, and thy son. 1 bid thee welcome, little one, With warmest love I do ; Parents with joy have hail'd thy birth, I bid thee welcome too. At what a gentle mother's breast, Babe, thou wilt nourished be ; There little cherub calmly rest, Tis pure, how fit for thee. ON THE BIRTH OF THE FIRSTBORN. 75 Sweet babe, thy earliest infant gaze Shall seek a father's face, Where manhood in its noblest form, Thou there may truly trace. Thus reared within a happy home, Where rests God's holy love, Thy earliest, purest, childish thoughts Shall rise to Him above. God guard thy boyhood then, And may thy manhood be A blessing to thy parents. May God bless them and thee. 76 HAPPY IS HE. HAPPY IS HE. Happy is he on England's shore to stand, Who absent many, many years has been, Who visits once again his native land, And fondly looks on each familiar scene. And grasps the hand of old friends left behind, When years ago he sought a foreign shore ; Eeels that their hearts beat still as true and kind, There friendship is as hearty as of yore. Ah ! none can know such happiness save he Who leaves his kindred and his fatherland ; Crosses o'er thousands miles of dreary sea, And founds a new home on a foreign strand. Where not one soul to give him hearty cheer, He bears the heat and burden of the day ; Toils for his partner and his children dear, Till fortune smiling sheds a brighter ray. When, after many years of sctive toil, Through exercise of firm unflagging zeal, He stands once more upon his rative soil, And feels a pleasure others cannot feel. IN MEMORIAM. 77 IN MEMORIAM. I gazed upon thy wasted form by suffering sorely tried, And thought, but two years since, thou wert a happy bride ; No lines of care and sorrow then were traced upon thy brow, Where the cold sweat stands thick death rests in triumph now. The tiny babe thou fondly hoped to nourish at thy breast Is left without a mother now, since thou art gone to rest. Thy husband, parents, sisters, friends, thou hast left sorrowing here, And gone the way of the earth, gone for ever, sister dear. Thou hast trodden the rough pathway, that fearful dark unknown, And we must follow soon although thou went'st first alone. Thou'rt gone before, my sister dear, oh, while we here do stay, May each of us prepare for heaven as thou hast shown the way. Thy sufferings that on earth were great, in heaven we know are o'er, For we trust thou art gone to where thy Saviour pass'd before ; 78 IN MEMORIAM. And while we gaze upon thy form the solemn truth but trace, We've "no continuing city here" and "no abiding place." To-night I pressed my trembling lips upon thy clammy brow, But felt I could not wish thee back, for thou art happy now. Though short thy stay among us, ere thy work on earth was done, Death lost its sting by thee, through faith death's terrors were o'ercome. Thy closed eyes and folded hands methinks I see them now, What perfect peace was written upon thy noble brow ; It pleased God to take thee ; oh, that we every one Could meekly bow beneath the stroke and say "Thy will be done." ^UM OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. 79 OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. (by request of one of the party.) The ninth day of November, and such a charming day, But a few clouds at early morn and they passing away, When seated at our breakfast a knock came at the door. " What early callers ; hark ! it's Tom and Harry, I feel sure. " They come to see, if disengaged, with them we'll take a ride ; 'Tis fine, so Nell and I in the affirmative replied. We've but one saddle horse at home, but near by have a friend, Who rides a splendid creature and has offered it to lend. A note the man has taken, his return I scarce can wait, But looking through the field-glass, fix upon Barn Abbey Gate. He comes — Bob on our Gipsy, I'm sure, too — I am right. He leads a prancing palfrey, with saddle cloth of white. The clouds are passing off, the sky is bright and clear, 'Tis time we some refreshment take, our friends will soon be here. And what a charming breeze is blowing off the sea, A day more suited for our ride I'm sure there could not be Our habits donned, our cavaliers will be arriving soon. The sound of horses' hoofs approach, we were to start a; noon ; The hoises all stand ready, they are a handsome four, 8o OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. Neither appear too steady, we'll quiet them, I'm sure. My Gipsy's eye is on me, she frets to get away, Our ride of fiveand-twenty miles will be to her but play; But yonder little coal black steed with eye flashing like fire, Will bear me on as rapidly, but will it sooner tire ? It stands a perfect picture, so lightly built and sound, With head erect, as restlessly it stamps and paws the ground. Nelly is in her saddle, Harry has followed suit, I mount my little charger, and Tom his powerful brute. We're off — my pony's restive, we for a canter start, One bound, away flies Tom, we company must part ; 'Twere wrong to follow on, my pony back I hold. I trust his horse is safe, it's hard to be controlled, It seems a vicious brute, see how he grasps the rein. His horsemanship is faulty, out of practice it is plain. The dusty town is reached, soon it is left behind Our horses' heads turned toward the hills a purer breeze we find. Up ride the other two, we take a little rest Indulging in a laugh at Tom while riding all abreast. Nelly enjoys her ride, look at her happy face ; Dear girl, how well she looks, and sits her horse with grace. Her companion's rather quiet, just the reverse is mine, His face all animation, with fun his bright eyes shine. Before we'd ridden far, he said, "Some verses you must write About to-day." "Oh, very well, but mind you must indite ; OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. 8 1 If I see aught to write about I will with all my heart. Are you disposed to break your neck and play a hero's part?" At times they are before us, at times we gallop past, Leaving small townships on our way we near the hills at last. Those mountains stand before us ; oh ! what a glorious sight, Could any gaze upon them but with feelings of delight ? Some are quite black and woody, some almost bare between, With here and there some sunny spot, so beautiful and green. By the roadside here are wagons, the horses out at ease, "We hear the sounds of voices, see the people 'mid the trees ; Now we meet happy couples, some who have strolled away — What induces them to leave the sports it is not mine to say. See that lovely sheet of water, it is the Reservoir, I've often heard about it, but was never here before ; Now we enter a narrow cutting — high walls on either side, With space for nought to pass us as two abreast we ride, With these prison-walls around us; above, the vault ol blue, A hundred yards the cutting pass'd, how changed is the view ! A narrow mountain pass we tread, One side the rocks hang overhead, So to look up we almost dread, 82 OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. Lest they should lose their hold, And with a loud and angry crash Down right upon our pathway dash, Or be perhaps slowly rolled. No fence the other side to keep From falling down the stony steep, Where at the bottom we espy The River Torrens running by ; There children out for a holiday Have sought its bed as best for play, Perchance indulging in the wish To catch some unsuspecting fish, Or, what is more a child's delight To dabble in its waters bright When sure they're safe and out of sight. Another picnic, I declare, Just see the crowds of people there ; Here 'bus and wagon, cart and dray, All made do duty for to-day. We pass where 'neath the gum-trees' shade A snow-white dinner cloth is laid ; However well-filled it has been But scanty fragments now are seen ; While empty bottles lying near Tell some are friends of Bacchus here ; Some dance, and some at croquet play, Some on the greensward idly lay. A little on, the river bends, And there our path abruptly ends. Full twelve miles we have come from home, Our horses, reeking wet with foam Have never wished to slacken speed, OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. 8$ The willing creatures rest must need. Our friends from out their saddles bound Gallantly help us to the ground ; Beside their own our horse they lead, Across the stream to rest and feed ; I cannot think they'll safely tread, Enormous boulders form the bed. Their iron hoofs strike on the stones, They slip ! I fear some broken bones ; But no, so carefully they lead, They're over safe— I'm glad indeed. When tied securely to a fence, A little journey we commence. The river here, scarce one doth seem, So nearly dry, 'tis but a stream ; From stone to stone, it is not wide, We step and gain the other side, Then pass the Weir, its thick stone walls Contain the water as it falls. More people — some are fishing here, Some wander on beyond the Weir. Hills on each side ; thus in a hollow A narrow little path we follow, Where the Scotch thistles growing thick, Pierce through pur boots with cruel prick, Which causes each now and again To raise the injured limb in pain. We halt, some sandwiches to eat, Where a bank serves us for a seat, Our friends reclining at our feet. The ride has made us hungry feel, We relish much our rustic meal ; g 4 OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. With pure cold water, well supplied, From the river running close beside. But what if there are reptiles here ' We talk until we almost fear Lest some shall their appearance make, In shape perhaps of hideous snake ; But since they interrupt us not, Soon their existence is forgot. 'Mid pleasant fun and merry joke, Our friends produce cigars to smoke ; And when refresh'd by aid of flask, Will they not sing a song we ask ? Of course they can't remember one ; But listen ! Harry has begun ; Of "fifty years ago" he sings, How very different then were things. A little further on we tread, Still keeping near the river's bed, And find some seats— enough of these— In shape of stones and fallen trees. Another portion of a song - From Harry, short and sweet, not long, While Tom will only snatches sing, To which the old hills answer ring. So full of fun, I never saw Our friends look happier before ; And of myself I'll only say I never more enjoyed a day ; Seated upon a huge block of stone, Happy as a queen upon her throne : Such rapture here my bosom fills, They bid me speak, these noble hills ! OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. 85 " O charming scene ! O lovely spot ! Once to be seen, never forgot : I gaze around on either side, Beholding these, Australia's pride ; Such beauty never would grow tame, At morn, at eve, 'twould charm the same ; At morn when all lay hushed and still, To paint the sun light up yon hill, Would baffle truest artist's skill ; When nature seemed to wake and shout, Then were it mine to wander out Alone, or with some valued friend Our purest asphations blend. Together on such glories look, Together study nature's book. Rich theme for thought thou dost afford: Admiring thee, man seeks thy God, And when, at witching hour of eve, The world its din and bustle leave The city— pride and work of man — Here the Almighty's work to scan Would quell each selfish coarse desire, And bid our nature to aspire. Man's narrow mind would here expand, Beholding all so good, so grand. Methinks, as I gaze on thee now, Would that my friends were firm as thou — That 'mid life's changes they could be As true and as unchanged as thee. " So soon the afternoon has passed, The sun does lengthened shadows cast, 86 OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. On all so bright a shade is thrown, It bids us be returning home. Adieu ! fair scene ; oh ! may it be Mine soon again to visit thee ; Long wilt thou in my memory dwell, Like pleasant dream, but fare-thee-well. The wind has risen from a breeze ; At times like hurricane so high With a wild sound it rushes by, Then softens to a gentle sigh Among the sheaoak trees. The tinkling of a bell we hear, On the hilltop some sheep appear ; The sheep-boy and his trusty guide Are climbing up the steep hillside, The wanderers to their fold to take ; All warns us it is getting late. We turn our steps, the river cross, And soon again have sprung to horse ; Here we have been the last to stay, All other folks are gone away, And behind scarce is seen a trace To mark where was their resting place. The laugh and shouts that met our ear, Have died away — we nothing hear, Save the little river down below, Its murmuring waters running slow. Now, as we through the gullies ride, But silence reigns on either side, Our horses' hoofs the echoes waken, No pic-nic have we yet o'ertaken ; OUR HOLIDAY RIDE. S7 'Tis pleasant now, at times our way Bright with the sun's declining ray, Then dull again, as on we ride, O'ershadowed by the dark hillside. We are leaving the hills, but gaze with delight On what lies before us— magnificent sight ! Below, as mere specks, the small villages lay, A stillness pervades all at closing of day ; Like huge fiery ball far off in the west, Old Sol, in his glory, is sinking to rest ; Beneath him the sea so bright and so clear, Far away, yet we truly can fancy it's near, I gaze on its waters until almost sure I can see the waves sport — hear them break on the shore. Our horses so free, we give them the rein, Away we are galloping over the plain ; Not weary myself, I think what a pity, So lovely an eve, to be nearing the city ; About eight o'clock we pass the town through, Meeting now and again with a picnic or two ; The ride home so pleasant, when just upon eight As merry as ever we entered our gate. In conclusion, I'll add, my best I have tried To pen an account of " Our Holiday Ride." S8 SABBATH AT SEA. SABBATH AT SEA. [in the tropics.] Within the tropics, lulled the breeze which stirred Our sails, the water's splash no longer heard ; Above the tall masts mocking rise, In the dull hue of tropic skies, The clouds hang stationary over head, Old ocean seems to slumber in his bed ; No ripple on his glassy surface seen, Where bright blue crested waves have been ; So calmly peaceful, scarce a breath of air, O how enjoyable this hour of prayer, And while we pray we know that many more Are kneeling too in prayer upon the shore ; Remembering we commit us to the care Of Him whose arm is outstretched everywhere ; Who guards the unfledged sparrow in its nest, And gives to wandering seabird place of rest ; Teaches yon little nautilus so frail Upon the wave its tiny bark to sail. We raise our eyes around, above, Where all is teaching " God is love ;" Thousands of miles behind us lay, Where He has marked our vessel's way ; Father, what goodness Thou hast shown In guiding us through paths unknown : So guide us when this voyage o'er, We part, perchance, to meet no more ; And keep us, Lord, as near to Thee As when in peril on the sea. EVENING PRAYER AT SEA. 89 EVENING PRAYER AT SEA. [A FELLOW PASSENGER BEING MUCH WORSE, WHO DIED THE DAY AFTER REACHING HOME OF CONSUMPTION. Holy Father, hear O hear us From Thy throne in yonder skies, Thou we know art ever near us, Seeing him who suffering lies. For ourselves, Lord, we ask nothing, Thou hast graciously supplied Every earthly blessing to us, Health Thou hast not us denied. Thus with thankful hearts we seek Thee, Lend, O Lord, attentive ear, While we pray for our sick brother, On his couch reclining near. Lord, we do not dare to question, Ask not the appointed time ; For we trust Thou wilt receive him, In those blessed arms of Thine. But we see how fast he's sinking, And with pitying hearts implore ; While from death there is no shrinking, Spare him till he reach the shore. <)0 EVENING PRAYER AT SEA. Strengthen him, dear Lord, we pray Thee, That, supported by Thy hand, He may join his own — his kindred — In his distant fatherland. Guard our vessel, guide her safely Far across the ocean wide ; May we all, with our sick brother, Safely reach the other side. Safe, at last, reach that blest haven Where no storms of earthly strife, Where no sickness, sin, or sorrow Mar the bliss of endless life. PARTINGS. 91 PARTINGS. Partings, frequent partings, In this world of ours ; They come amid our pleasures, Like thorns among fair flowers. Partings, bitter partings, Hearts with fond hearts blend ; Then the happy dream is over, Friend is far from friend. Painful separation-, Oceans vast divide ; Still sweet messages of love Span the waters wide. Who has not known partings, Keener sorrow felt, Watched beside some sick one, By the dying knelt ? Felt the slender fingers Grow chilly to the touch ; Seen death's dew gather on pale brow Of one we loved much? ■92 PARTINGS. Oh ! the lonely feeling, When the dead we mourn. Once they stood beside us, Nqw we know they're gone. Life is made up of partings While here below we dwell ; But in that happy world above, No partings — no farewell. VANISHED HOPES. 93 VANISHED HOPES. Hopes like earth's fair flowers we cherish, Cherish so tenderly till they die ! In our hearts' inmost recesses, Then the withered fragments lie ; Oftentimes a faded blossom, Precious made by sorrow's tear, Treasured for the sake of lost one, So are lost hopes, doubly dear ! Ah ! the golden dreams which vanished Just when near to be fulfilled, And the many wild heart cravings, Longings which have all been stilled. Merciful (iod so oft denies us, Much we strive hard to obtain, In the cherished hope and the golden dream Were hidden, perhaps, some bitter pain. 94 DEDICATION OF AN INFANT. DEDICATION OF AN INFANT. Precious infant, now we see thee, Pure and spotless, undefiled, And pray God to bless and keep thee So through life, sweet darling child. Lord, be with her from this hour, Though we know she cannot be In the world without some trials, From its evils keep her free. During years when youth unwary Oft inclines to go astray, Thee, O God, we ask to lead her, Show her wisdom's happy way. In all times, should sore temptation Meet her in unguarded hour, Calm the restless heart's wild longings By Thy Spirit's gentle power. Grant her grace to flee all danger, That might mar her future life ; Keep her in the path of virtue, Where is neither sin nor strife. DEDICATION OF AN INFANT. Shield in childhood's days this sweet one, Guard her blushing maidenhood, Till in future years a woman, We behold her pure and good. Give her grace to know and love Thee, Grow as Thou would'st have her grow, In her inmost heart adore Thee — Glorify Thy name below. All our lives are in Thy keeping, Fragile babe, grey-headed sire, Every heart by nature sinful. Let Thy love her soul inspire. To Thee we present this infant, Be her Father evermore ; Guard and guide her through life's journey, Lead her Home when life is o'er. 95 96 NEVER NURSE A SORROW, NEVER NURSE A SORROW. Never nurse a sorrow, Or clasp it to thy breast ; 'Twould turn sunshine into sadness And banish nightly rest. If you cherish one small sorrow, It will to many turn ; God is teaching you a lesson, Dare you refuse to learn. This is a life of discipline, Perplexity and care ; Of brooding over trouble, O, foolish heart, beware. If sickness be thy portion, Think of painless life above ; And fix the eye of faith upon That home of light and love. And though it cost a struggle Youthful pleasures to forego, To leave the sunny paths of life Where brightest flowerets grow. Think of many years of health, When prosperity was thine ; When threatened by no tempest Thou wert gladden'd by sunshine. NEVER NURSE A SORROW. 97 If it be sad separation, That bitterest of pain — Bereavemement — of dearest bonds The severing in twain. Loss of a soul's companion, A life linked with thine own ; One in love, and work, and feeling, Death parted, now alone. O, do not nurse thy sorrow, Nor strive to see the end ; He has taken one too dear to the< , To be Himself thy Friend. Be it blight of disappointment, A cruel carking care, Crushing all fondly-cherished hopes, And fostering despair. O, fear to nurse such sorrow, Rather, weak heart, be brave ; 'Twould embitter all thy future, Or bring thee to the grave. O, never nurse a sorrow, Never let it to thee cling ; 'Twould sap all happiness from life. And prove a deadly thing. Nor stay to struggle with it. It would but fiercer grow ; Up, work, and in the busy world Forget you have a foe. 98 THE WORLD IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. THE WORLD IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. The world is what we make it, and not what it is made, Blessings and sunny spots abound for every rank and grade ; 'Tis the heart we carry in us forms the world in which we live, And Nature's countless wonders instructive lessons give. The man who sits with folded hands, the morbidly in- clined, And he of energy and will with a well balanced mind, Will tell you vastly different tales anent this world of ours : One desecrates his manhood, one engages all his powers. One starts a laggard on life's race, and, raising listless eyes, Will count the clouds if he perchance find any in the skies ; But no ambition fires his breast nor urges him to try To excel his fellow creatures who pass frequent briskly by. If obstacles obstruct his way he fears to further go, And makes no desperate effort to lay the spectre low, Sits by the wayside in the shade to wait till it has gone, Deeming himself the most unfortunate of any creature born. Brooding he waits, his weak heart growing faint and fainter till The spectre grows more terrible the longer he sits still. THE WORLD IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. 99 Bright flowers that bloom around him his eye no longer sees, Nor his ear doth note the songsters as they warble in the trees. Or if he does, but wonders why the foolish birds do sing In such a place where nobody is likely crumbs to fling. Each little bird might lesson teach of lives more wisely spent On building nests, and rearing young, and seeking food intent. When troubles come, when nests are spoiled, not long they sit and fret, But on the wing soon start and sing of better fortune yet. Why cannot he his burden lift, and with it on his back With cheerfulness and courage, press on life's beaten track . He tarries yet, there passes by a man at eager pace. Upon his shoulders ponderous load, yet he with happy face ; In hearty tones his way to cheer sings forth "Excelsior ;" I will not rest here in the shade, it's brighter on before. The burden's getting lighter and man must do his work, The back is for the burden made, 'tis only cowards shirk ; Better a weary body than diseased or unused brain, For ease comes sweeter purchased by the sweat of brow and pain. IOO THE WORLD IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. Oh ! this is a happy world, notwithstanding all its strife, If wisdom guides man's footsteps and religion crowns his life. For trouble gives to character a sweet refining strength, And lives are measured by deeds wrought, and not by length. Young lives are linked yet closer, love purest pleasures give, When struggling on unitedly for wherewithal to live. The poor man's babe with rounded limbs a treasure too as great As the infant reared in mansion grand and heir to proud estate. That child how oft in future years a nobler truer man, For misfortune's sterner discipline when early life began. Yes, " life is worth the living" if the soul's with wisdom stored, And man's high labours show that he's "the noblest work of God." LITTLE CHILD AT PRAYER. IOI LITTLE CHILD AT PRAYER. Know'st thou a picture in this world more fair To gaze upon than little child at prayer ; Though many years have flown, methinks I feel A little form where oft it used to kneel Upon my lap, while the soft, clear moonlight Streamed through the casement on her robe of white ; Around her shoulders fell bright locks of gold, Methought no angel fairer to behold. One long look at the moon, the starlit skies, Then little hands were folded, closed bright eyes, Rosy lips parted sweetly lisped the prayer Floating like heavenly music on the air ; *Twas finished —soon as I had ceased to speak A loving kiss was pressed upon my cheek, With pretty, pleading tone and winning smile, " Auntie, do let me stay a little while, Tell me about the moon and twinkling star ; Mamma's in heaven ; is heaven very far ?" My fingers played with thy soft, silky hair The while I spoke of heaven ; thy mother there. Too young to feel thy loss, thou did'st not even cry When lifted on her bed she prayed her last "good-bye." Too young to know that parting with her who gave thee birth Was parting with a blessing thou could'st not find on earth. 102 LITTLE CHILD AT PRAYER. Sweet innocent ! in future years amid life's sin and care May'st thou, as when a simple child, oft kneel to Him in prayer ; In sorrow, in perplexity, whatever may betide, Ever while journeying through life strong in His faith abide, So that at last when life is o'er, where all is bright and fair, Among the white-robed saints above thou'lt kneel to Him in prayer. -.•-{$ Y^ &-.,. j^ •-■ ■■> hook®)—' — ^ A x DREAMING. DREAMING. Met.hought I was out on the ocean, our vessel Was gallantly ploughing the mountainous sea ; On deck I stood watching the blue-crested billows, Dashing the beautiful spray around me. I descried nought around us as evening drew near, Not a vessel nor even a bird hove in sight : Till I saw in the dark sky a lone star appear, A beacon to guide us on that stormy night. Methought in my berth I was sleeping ; awaking, The land of my birth had been sighted so near ; On her shore in the distance I watched the surf breaking. And the breeze bore familiar sounds soon to mine ear. Next, our vessel lay anchored, loved faces I saw, And dear voices fondly were greeting ; I felt my hand grasped, I was hurried ashore, O how I had longed for that meeting. Methought it was Christmas, there hung on the walls The holly and mistletoe gay ; While sounds of high merriment rang through the halls, And festivity held happy sway. Just then I awoke disappointed and sad, For, all I remembered so well, In dreamland I'd wandered so happy and glad, But day's-dawn had broken the spell. 104 THE WRECK OK THE GOTHENBURG. THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. [HAPPENED FEBRUARY 24, 1S75, ON THE GREAT BARRIER REEF, NOT FAR FROM CAPE BOWLING GREEN, ON THE COAST OF QUEENSLAND ] The vessel steamed upon her way At morn— at light of evening grey A. wreck upon the reef she lay. A tempest swept the sea across, Driving her from her onward course Upon the rock with sudden force. When human souls — her precious freight — Were thinking not of danger great, Dreaming not of their awful fate. Till night fast closing on them there, The stoutest hearts fill with despair, And feeblest hands are clasp'd in prayer. The heavens with black clouds overcast, Fierce lightning flashing round the mast, And chilly night-winds howling past. The dark sea dashing wildly round, The angry waves with frantic bound Breaking against with deafening sound. THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. 105 Two boats lowered from the vessel's side, Manned by a few, powerless to guide, Are drifted on the ocean wide. Tossed to and fro, each crested wave Baffling every effort to save, Threatening with a watery grave. The captain hails them from the deck ; But further, further from the wreck, One sinks, one drifts, a tiny speck. Again by the lightning's flash he saw The shattered boat moving the water o'er, Then it broke up on the distant shore. Cast on a lone isle the four men brave Who had escaped the yawning grave, But where the many they could not save Still the hurricane swept the main, The deafening thunder pealed forth again Amid lightning's flash and driving rain. The awful blackness of sea and sky, No pitying moon looked from on high As the cold surges went sweeping by. The vessel lay still through the fearful blast, Anxious hearts watching the long night past For coming of day, till it breaks at last. Io6 THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. She is filling below, they cannot check The water, the waves wash over the deck ; She slides, and is settling down fast a wreck. On her deck watching together there, Men greyheaded with years and care, Earth's young and beautiful, bravest and fair, Straining dim eyes to see the shore, Where are loved ones they shall see no more Till heaven grant it when life is o'er. Breathing forth prayers in their sad alarm ; " O Lord, protect Thy servants from harm, Speak Peace ! be still ! the troubled sea calm, " As when of old Thy disciples to save, When they were afraid, rebuked wind and wave. Good Lord, deliver us from this grave.'' Husband clasped closer his darling wife, Watching the angry billows' strife, Feeling they craved for his dear one's life. Mother, her face white with terror wild, Pressed to her bosom weak helpless child, While it, sweet babe, unconsciously smiled ; Even while safer she thought, it had gone, Out of those tender arms rude waves had borne, Leaving not long bereaved parent to mourn. THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. I07 Gazing out after it into the deep Wondering whether to tarry or leap, Swept away, too, with her infant to sleep. Sisters, dear sisters, so fondly embraced, Clasping frail arms round each others waist, Calmly and bravely cruel death faced. Strong man beside his sick friend stood near, Whispered encouraging words in his ear, Bidding him trust One above and not fear. But the waves little heed whom they divide ; Snatched is the weak from the stronger one's side, Floated away on the merciless tide. Frail tender woman so silently crept Down where her treasures yet peacefully slept, Gazed on her helpless ones, trembled and wept. Kissed the bright rosy lips and knelt beside, While in soul agony to God she cried ; Drowned, ere the prayer on her pale lips had died. Lowered now the last boat all that can save ; Crowded, it soon sinks beneath the wave, Plunging all in one cold common grave. A few on the deck — it contained not the whole — Over them now the huge breakers roll, Leaving behind not one living soul. IOS THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. Borne by the mighty billows away, Struggling to reach, if perchance they may, The upturned boat as it floating lay. A few men swim bravely and gain at last The shipside and make for the standing mast, Catch at the rigging and cling there fast. But on the pale, heated cheek falls a tear From eyes of brave men who never knew fear — Shed o'er the women and men drowning near. What are their feelings, alas, none can tell, As on their ear strikes the funeral knell, The ocean's roar, and the faint farewell. To rescue others their brave hearts desire, E'en though the breakers dash higher ami higher. In their exertions they faint not nor tire ; But, quickly, ropes in the ocean they cast, Bidding the struggling ones catch and hold fast, Thus dragging several up to the mast. Lashing themselves to the rigging tight, Fourteen hold on through the stormy night, Anxiously watching the morrow's light. 'Tis daybreak : the boat floats still on the wave ; If they but had it, it yet might save ; Then swam to right her, one young and brave. THE WRECK OF THE GOTHENBURG. IO<) So heavy the sea, the breakers so strong, To lose his life to gain it were wrong : He returns — to venture again ere long. Four times thus bravely he swam out before His comrades, anxiously watching him, saw He had gained and succeeded in turning it o'er. 'Tis brought to fche vessel ; their great work done. In her, wet, cold, and exhausted each one ; Brave men, their rescue how nobly they won. Twenty-two saved. Men of every rank, More than a hundred souls there sank Beneath the wave by that treacherous bank. No distinction made by devouring wave ; Australias' greatest, her poorest, and brave, Statesman and sailor sleep in one grave. Over all rested one funeral pall ; One coral reef, now the gravestone of all, Marks where they wait the Redeemer's call. With the grief-stricken ones truly we weep Over their dear ones consigned to the deep, But One above us is able to keep. IIO CHRISTMAS. CHRISTMAS. To friend Father Christmas how hearty our greeting, Though he comes not with keen blast nor bright holly bough ; Where the sun in blue skies shines hot at the meeting, He's as dear as where icicles circle his brow. He sees in our southern homes much to delight him, Merry laugh, bounding step, and the warm pressing hand, Hearts glowing with kindness so much to requite him ; But, the blazing log's missing in this sunny land. Kind faces he sees in the throng, while he listens To the song, as he feels he is loved as of yore ; He hears his name echoed and marks how eyes glisten At remembrance of meetings on far distant shore. What, though there is oftentimes something to sadden- The thought of those missing occasion alloy — The gathering together of households should gladden, For nought can obliterate true Christmas joy. CHRISTMAS. Ill For this is the day when the babe Christ had birth, When God gave His greatest of gifts unto men, And came in a wonderful manner near earth : His love now as great towards His children as then. Christmas, th. j season for happiest of feeling, Wake up the morning with carols of love ; Doing kindest of deeds, all old differences healing, Realizing that peace which Christ brought from above. To Australia you come when our winter is ended, And spring time is passing — at close of the year. With corn, fruit, and flowers, your coming's attended, Old Christmas, we greet you with hearty good cheer. fo ^(j III • . •• if • . - - 112 IN THE COUNTRY IN THE COUNTRY. O 'tis charming to stay in the country awhile, When nature seems welcoming us with a smile, To walk where o'er green grass so soft to the tread, While noble gum branches stretch thick overhead. To wake in the morn and hear all around The magpie's rich notes, so flutelike in sound ; Throw open the casement and feel the soft breeze, And list to its murmuring song in the trees. To watch golden sunbeams, as dancing they fall Through the leaves of the creeper which shadows the wall ; To stroll and to gather bright wild flowers that grow, And start the gay butterflies off to and fro. SLEEPING. I I SLEEPING. J Sleeping — poor tired one — all suffering past, The sleep thou'st often prayed for come at last : Thy pain-marred body with its cross laid down ; Thy spirit gone to wear the victor's crown. Ah ! happy soul, far happier where thou'rt gone, I could not wish thee from that blessed bourne ; But tarry here, and, wrestling with earth's sin, Wilt sigh for rest thou now hast entered in. Released from earthly trouble, freed from pain, If great our loss, far greater is thy gain. With aching hearts we grieved to see thee stand Long on the borders of that spirit land ; Growing far dearer to us day by day, That slow disease was sapping life away, But, with sweet patience, striving to fulfil Upon a sickbed all thy Father's will ; Endeavouring to drain the bitter cup — Resignedly, to give thy loved ones up. Midst greatest suffering, yet relief from pain Brought the sweet, patient, cheerful smile again ; Chastened, because so loved of God. 'Tis o'er, Thou'lt never feel the touch of sorrow more. Thrice happy soul, why shed another tear ? Brighter thy crown for all thy suffering here : Sleeping — poor tired one, both peace and rest Are thine, reposing on thy Saviour's breast. He took thee hence, where nought can wcrk thee harm ; Thy poor frail bark is moored in waters calm ; The thought supports me now amid my tears, We're parted only for a few short years. 114 THE WANDERER'S FAREWELL. THE WANDERER'S FAREWELL. He watches from the vessel's deck The shore recede, till a mere speck ; Then in the distance fades away Port Adelaide, and Holdfast Bay ; And, clinging to the vessel's side, Gives way to.grief he cannot hide. " Farewell, my native land, to thee ; My straining eyes no longer see Thy shore, once dearest spot on earth, My childhood's home, land of my birth, Where earliest years were passed away In happy innocence at play. Alas ! where I a boy began To ape the follies of a man. Farewell, mine eyes will nevermore Behold thee, fair Australia's shore ; Never again thy glorious sun Shall I see rise, more glorious none ; Thy gentle moon's bewitching light, No other moons can shine so bright ; Behold no more thy fertile plain Covered with harvest's richest grain ; Thy stately gums and climbing vine Once I could claim — no longer mine. I've looked my last upon thy hills, Whose grandeur every bosom fills ; THE WANDERER'S FAREWELL. I I S My wandering feet no more will stand Upon thy soil, my native land. For thee and thine I would not grieve, But there my mother's dust I leave. They who were dear no longer are. My sinful ways put friends afar ; Friendless, and homeless now I roam, Farewell, my native land, my home. j Il6 TO MY PEN. TO MY PEN. From time to time, as I sit down to wale- So little leisure, yet such sweet delight To hold thee, pen, and let thee trace The thoughts that through my brain give chase. were a poet's powers mine, It were not such insipid rhyme. Yet, still, thou art my truest friend ; With thee I happiest moments spend. For when my heart is light and free 1 sit and share its joy with thee ; And when 'tis sad and full of pain, With heavy heart and weary brain, I seek for comfort not in vain. There's not a shadow in life's sky But turns to sunshine, with thee nigh. W. K. Uhomas & Co., ir'nnters, Adelaide. 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