=: Sdy23 Mao. Moa 1- BS5» THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES \ <^UMA~ l^TW^a CUJLVW LAYS OF THE LAND OF THE MAORI AND MOA. BY THOMAS BRACKEN, Member of the House of Representatives, New Zealand; AUTHOR OF "FLOWERS OF THE FREELANDS," " GOLDEN FOUNDATIONS,' "ASLEEP IN THE FOREST," ETC. WITH AN INTRODUCTION By the Rev. RUTHERFORD WADDELL, M.A. Honlion: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, CROWN BUILDINGS, iSS, FLEET STREET. 1384. [All rights reserved^] LONDON : trinted uy gilbert and r1vington, limited, st. John's square. xlcbiratton. TO SIR GEORGE GREY, K.C.B. Within a forest stood a grand old tree, Whose head above the other plants rose high ; He was the forest's first-born. Sun and sky Had known him, and had smiled on him ere he Had kinsfolk near, or leafy brethren nigh ; The wild birds brought to him their minstrelsy ; The singers knew that when the scene was rude, He grew and gave a shelter to their race. By him the wandering melodists were wooed To trill and warble in that lonely place ; A sanctuary in the solitude He gave to them. In him the birds could trace The forest's king, and so from hills and plains They flew to him, and sang their sweetest strains. A 2 890812 CONTENTS. l'AGE The March of Te Rauparaha 13 Waipounamutu . 31 M'GlLLVIRAY'S DREAM 41 The Golden Jubilee 52 In the Temple 64 Orakau 70 Melbourne Exhibition 73 A Christmas Reverie 78 Sleeping Alone . s 4 A Winter Lyric S6 De Profundis . . 89 Pax Vobiscum . 9i Leah .... 93 Memoria in Eterna 95 Among the Buds 96 The Waterfall • 98 Requiescat 100 At Sunset • 103 Longfellow • 105 The Other Side 107 Not Understood 108 Good Night to Baby no Away with Regret 1 1 1 George Eliot . 112 Mrs. George Darrell > # - "3 Contents. Kaitangata The Canterbury Pilgrims Dunedin Exhibition The Persecuted Jews Oamaru Theatre The Timaru Wrecks The Night of the Banquet Six Sonnets Affinity .... Mother's Grave Passing Through the Gate Little Violet . The Brooklet in the Glen A Paper from Home Bush Children Old Bendigo Song Annihilation . Not Dead .... The Soul's Treasury PAGE 115 117 119 123 126 129 132 134 138 140 142 144 146 14s 150 152 155 156 15s 159 INTRODUCTION. ' It may seem strange," says Walt Whitman, " but the topmost growth of a nation is its own born poetry." The strangeness vanishes, when we remember that the best things — the things which last longest — are the latest born. When Nature wishes to produce her highest work she takes time ; she will build up a mushroom in a night — perfect : but she must have years to build an apple or an oak : she sends out the bushy ephemera of a midsummer noon in a day, and they are all gone by the evening ; but she spends thousands upon thousands of years before she can get the earth ready for man : but man is eternal. The individual man himself, indeed, is the most true image of her working plan : his least lasting and worthy qualities develop quickest — the body before the soul — the animal before the mental — the mental before the moral — the moral before the spiritual. The last to come are the permanent and abiding — they are worth all the rest. They are the goal to which all the rest are but subsidiary, though necessary, stages. And so it is with the poets and poetry of a people ; they are the last products, because they are the best. They are created by, and make their appeal to, the highest elements of our humanity. They are the abiding " topmost growth " of a nation, 8 Introduction. its flower and its fruit. This is history. Says Dr. Maftineau : " Never do we more completely deceive ourselves, than when we imagine that the work of the understanding is durable, while that of our richer genius is evanescent ; that the achievements of physical discovery are the fixed products of time, while the visions of poetry are but the adornments of a passing age. Of no nation, of no civilization, does the most advanced science remain true for us, while of none has the genuine poetry perished. Thales and Archimedes have been obsolete for centuries, while old Homer is fresh as ever, and delights the modern schoolboy only less than he did the Greek hero." One is not, therefore, surprised to find that the younger nations— America and Australasia — have not as yet produced any poetry to which the title " own born " could be unhesitatingly applied. The condi- tions are not present. Before there can be a national literature, there must be a national character ; and a national character, like an individual, is of slow growth and late maturity. Some might be disposed to ques- tion this judgment in regard to American literature. Some might be inclined to affirm that already a national literature is born there. My own opinion is that, with the doubtful exception of Walt Whitman, it is still a thing of the future. In regard to Australasia, however, it is different. We will all agree, I think, in saying that a national literature has not yet been created here — is, indeed, far from it. Of the reasons of this, beyond those already indicated, I need not say more in this place. But if one does Introduction. not find it yet, one must needs look for it — hope for it — work for it, if one can. No people can be great or good, can live or last, without its singers. Truly, if they are its final product, they are also its crown. Tons of iron and of copper, firkins of the best butter, and ship loads of frozen sheep : these are excellent. " But after these, after the chemist, the geologist, the ethnologist, shall come the poet worthy that name ; the true son of God shall come singing his songs." One, therefore, who wishes well and wealth to his nation will gladly welcome the first stray notes faintly heralding this approaching dawn. Here and there among us — dwellers in these sunny lands — a solitary singer has been heard. Victoria has its Gordon, and New South Wales its Kendal, and now New Zealand follows with Domett and Bracken. Mr. Bracken is not unknown to the public, but he deserves to be better and more widely known. Any one who is acquainted with the journalistic and other duties he has to perform, will readily understand that these are by no means congenial to the cultivation of the Muse. They have not killed his voice of song — could not, in truth, if he be a genuine poet. Nevertheless he is an illustration of Robert Browning's words — Touch him ne'er so lightly, into song he broke ; Soil so quick receptive, not one feather seed, Not one flower durs't fall, but straight its fall awoke Vitalizing virtue. Song would song succeed, Sudden as spontaneous — prove a poet's soul. Some years ago Mr. Bracken published a small volume of poems. It was cordially and kindly received. This, was owing in great part, no doubt, io Introduction. to its inherent merits. But no one, I think, who compares the present with the preceding volume, can fail to notice a distinct advance on the part of the author. Dr. John Brown tells a story of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was taken one day by a friend to see a picture. He was anxious to admire it, and he looked it over with a keen and careful but favour- able eye. " Capital composition, correct drawing, the colour and tone excellent; but— but— it wants, hang it! it wants — that 1 '" snapping his fingers, and wanting that, though it had everything else, it was worth nothing. Now, I arn far fiom saying that Mr. Bracken's former volume wanted "that," but I am quite sure that this later one possesses it in a very high degree. There is about nearly every one of the poems in this volume that impalpable something, which we can neither define nor describe, but which, like all true poetry, takes captive the soul. This, I doubt not, the capable and candid reader will discover for himself. I need only for illustration refer to such poems as " A Christmas Reverie," to the very noble " Ode on the Opening of the Sydney Exhibition," and to " Old Bendigo," which reminds one of the best of Bret Harte. Mr. Bracken's genius seems to me essentially lyrical. He is always best here, and especially when he sings of love, and loss, and death. Witness the poem in memory of " Mrs. Darrell" — one of the finest in the volume, "Leah," and the sweetly pathetic " Pax Vobiscum." A very few of these poems have perhaps more of local than general interest, but Mr. Bracken shows that he can touch some of the higher heights and the deeper Introduction. 1 1 depths of life as well. "We have examples of this in " Annihilation," " Not Understood," and notably the profound sonnet, " The Bird and the Idol " — a sonnet which is not unworthy the master hand of Mrs. Browning or Rossetti. Lewis Morris has very truly said — Most precious all ; yet this is sure, The song that longest shall endure Is simple, sweet, and pure. And these songs of Mr. Bracken conform to this — they are simple in the original sense of that word. Many of them are sweet, and all are pure. They exhibit a high faith in God and Nature, and the "dear love of comradeship." Of course, one could easily pick out faults, but that may be left to those to whom hissing comes handier ; and it may be good for these to remember that after all hissing is the only sound in Nature that produces no echo. I quite agree with Principal Shairp where he says (" Aspects of Poetry ") : " I am somewhat weary of criticism. We know the best of what she has to say, and would now beg of her to stand aside for a season, and give spontaneity its turn." And so I stand aside from both critic and the reader, trusting that these " herald melodies of spring " from this sunny Southern Island may be to them, as in a very high degree they are to me, Not all ungrateful to the ear. Rutherford Waddell. St. Andrew's Manse, Dunedin, May 9th, 1883. LAYS OF THE LAND OF THE MAORI AND MOA. THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA. 1 With the exception, perhaps, of the celebrated Ngapuhi chief, Hongi, no Maori warrior, during the present century, was the cause of so much blood- shed as the remarkable subject of the following poem. The Ngatitoa, of which Te Rauparaha was the head, occupied, for centuries, the beautiful country lying between Kawhia and Mokau on the western side of the North Island, and though insignificant in point of numbers, when compared with many of the leading tribes around them, they had long been celebrated for their prowess as warriors. About the year 1820, firearms began to be extensively used in native warfare, and the shrewd chief, Rauparaha, see- ing the immense advantage which the lucky possessors of these destructive weapons had over their enemies, resolved to capture Kapita and the country around Wellington, in order to come into closer communica- 1 Fronounced " Rouprrah." 14 Lays of the Land tion with the Pakeha traders, who at that time were importing muskets in large quantities from Sydney and England. He conceived the idea of invading the country, and he was strengthened in this resolve by a visit which he paid to Kapita in company with the renowned warrior, Tamati Waka Nene, who strongly urged him to undertake the expedition. Accordingly he mustered his whole tribe, numbering about 400, and left the land of his forefathers for ever. The scene at the setting out of the expedition was very affecting. The entire tribe gathered on the hill of Moetoa, and wept like children over Kawhia. A short time previous to this, Hape Tuarangi, chief of the Ngatirawkawa, appointed Rauparaha as his successor, his own sons refusing to take the lead ; and consequently this and some other tribes were allies, to some extent, of the Ngatitoa, and several of them took part in the expedition. The line of their march lay through Waitara, Hawaka, Taranaki, and Manawatu, at all of which places they fought and conquered, feasted and rested, sweeping hostile tribes before them in all directions, and making hundreds of slaves, whom they kept for their feasts on the march. After capturing Kapita and the surrounding country, Rauparaha directed his attention to the Middle Island, and invaded it with a strong band of warriors, who carried death and destruction before them. The siege of Kaiapoi, one of the bloodiest battles in the annals of Maori warfare, is still remembered by many of the Middle Island natives, and " Bloody Raupa- raha's" memory is yet held in execration by them. A most interesting paper, entitled the " Life and of the Maori and Moa. 1 5 Times of Te Rauparaha," by W. T. L.Travers, F.L.S., will be found in the " Transactions of the New- Zealand Institute, 1872," to which the author of the following poem is indebted for the information which suggested "The March of Te Rauparaha." THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA. Rauparaha's war chant, Rauparaha's fame song, Rauparaha's story Told on the harp strings, Pakeha harp cords Tuned by the stranger. Mighty chief of the Ngatitoa, Sprung from the hero, Hotorua, First of the braves who left Hawaiki Over the sea in the great Tainui, 1 Petrified now by thy shore, Kawhia. Weird Tainui, apu, lapu," Tapu, long ere the pale pakeha Came to the shrine, adored for ages, Came to the shrine ! oh desecration, Prying into the things forbidden. 1 The sacred canoe in which the first Maories came from Hawaiki or Hawea. 2 Sacred, holy. 1 6 Lays of the Land Moan the waves, Moan the waves, Moan the waves as they wash Tainui, Moan the waters of dark Kawhia, Moan the winds as they sweep the gorges, Wafting the sad laments and wailings Of the spirit that haunt the mountains — Warrior souls, whose skeletons slumber Down in the caverns, lonely and dreary, Under the feet of the fierce volcano, Under the slopes of the Awaroa ! Moan the winds, Moan the winds, Moan the winds, and waves, and waters, Moan they over the ages vanished, Moan they over the tombs of heroes, Moan they over the mighty chieftains Sprung from giants of far Hawaiki ! Moan they over the bones of Raka, Moan they over the Rangatira Toa, who founded the Ngatitoa ! Moan they over Wera Wera, Sire of him, Sire of him, Sire of him they called Te Rauparaha ! Echoes of the craggy reeks, Echoes of the rocky peaks, Echoes of the gloomy caves, Echoes of the moaning waves, Echoes of the gorges deep, Echoes of the winds that sweep O'er Pirongia's summit steep, of the Maori and Moa. 1 7 Chant the Rangatira's praise, Chant it in a thousand lays, Chant the Rangatira's fame, Chant the Rangatira's name, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! Sound his praises far and near, For his spirit still is here Flying through the gusty shocks, When the sea-ghosts climb the rocks Clad in foam shrouds, thick and pale, Woven by the howling gale In the ocean's monster loom ! Warp of green and weft of gloom Woven into sheets of white By the wizards of the night ; Chant his name each ocean sprite, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! No wild hero of romance, Born in dreamy poet's trance, Cradled in some mythic fane, Built up in the minstrel's brain On imagination's plan ! — No such hero was this man, He was flesh and biood and boue, Standing forth erect, alone, Hidi above his fellows known ! — Hist'ry paints what he hath done, Maori valour's bravest son — Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! B 1 8 L ays of the L and Quick of eye and lithe of limb, Warriors bent the knee to him ! — Bold of heart and strong of hand, Formed to rule and to command ! Suckled on a breast that gave Milk of heroes to the brave ! — Richest fruit of Toa's seed, Scion of heroic breed, Born to conquer and to lead ! Strongest branch of noblest tree From Hawaiki o'er the sea, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! Wild as eagle, tame as dove, Fierce in battle, fond in love, When Marore', his young bride, For some sweeter relish sighed — Some more dainty toothsome dish — Than the Kumera 3 and fish, Rushed he, with a chosen band, To the great Waikato's land, And procured a relish sweet — Raunga's flesh was tender meat — Soon Marore had a treat, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! Mothers of Waikato wail, Spearmen of Waikato quail, All the deeds that ye have done, All the glories ye have won, Pale 'fore Wera Wera's son ! 3 Sweet Potato. of the Maori and Moa. 19 He is master of the field, To his sway your homage yield, He has tamed Waikato's pride, To your whares run and hide ! Fly before his conqu'ring spears — Bursts his war-cry on your ears, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha Te Taurangi, dying, said : " Who shall lead when I am dead? Who shall prove my people's might On the war-path, in the fight ? Will my sons not take my place, Guard the honour of my race?" Silent were the chiefs and men The Ariki* spake again : — " Who will now my station fill ? " All the chiefs were silent still ! — Cried a voice : " I will, I will." Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! " Listen to your chief, ye braves, Kapita, by distant waves, Where the pakeha's canoes Laden with the fire-spears cruise, Shall be utu 6 for our dead ! — Valiant Waka Nene said — As he there stood close by me On the coast : ' Oh, Raha, see That great people sailing free, 4 Head chief, First-born, Priest. 5 Reward, satisfaction. 6 Great, open, extended. B 2 20 Lays of the Land With your tribe to them draw nigh, And your enemies shall fly.' : Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! " Oh, my people, let us go Where the distant waters flow, Leave Kawhia unto those Who no longer are our foes ! Great Te Wherowhero, stay, Guard our land when we're away, From Kapita's distant shore To this land we'll come no more ! Bring our axes, mats, and spears, Onward, onward, conquest cheers, On Kawhia leave our tears," Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha Beneath the purple canopy of morn That hung above Kawhia's placid sheet Of waters crystalline, arose on high The golden shield of God, on azure field, With crimson tassels dipping in the sea ! And from its burnished face a shower of rays Shot up the hills and gilt their spires and peaks In lambent sheen, until the turrets seemed Like precious ornaments of purest gold On mighty altars raised by giant priests In olden times, to offer sacred fire As sacrifice unto the Fount of Light, From whence the planets and the myriad stars Drink their effulgence ! of the Maori and Moa. 2 r In the wild ravines And gorges deep, the limpid babbling creeks Sang matins, as they left their mother hills To mingle in united waters, where They lost their little selves, and merged in one Pellucid flood that gathered stronger life From day to day ! as God's great Human Church, Now building on the earth, shall gather all The little sects and creeds and small beliefs That split mankind into a thousand parts, And merge them in one universal flood Of boundless charity. The dazzling points Of morning's lances pierced the bursting hearts Of all the flow'rets on the fertile slopes, And waked the red Kowhai's drops from sleep, And shook the dew-beads from the Rata's lids, Until its blossoms opened up their breasts And gave their fragrance to the early breeze That played among the Koromiko's leaves, And stole the rich Tawhiri's sweet perfume, And strung the flax-leaves into merry tune To woo the Bell-bird from his nest, to ring The Tui up to sing his morning hymns. The scene was made for man, not savage man, The cunningest of brutes, the crafty king Of beasts ! but Man, the Spiritualized, With all the light of knowledge in his brain, And all the light of love within his heart ! And yet they were but savages who stood On Moeatoa's hill, above the scene, Mere savages, a step beyond the brute ! 22 Lays of the Land But still there were bright sparks of God-lit fire Within their breasts ! they loved their native vales With heart and soul ! for they had hearts and souls Far nobler than some milk-faced races who Have basked 'neath Calv'ry's sun for ages long, And yet lie grov'lling in the nation's rear, With hearts encased in earth too coarse and hard For Calv'ry's glorious light to penetrate. Poor savages that Orient had not yet Shed its benignant rays upon their souls, To melt the dross that dragged them down to earth In carnal bonds ! they knew not yet the road To reach the standard of their better selves. Yet they were men in all save this ! brave men "With patriots' hearts, for as they stood and gazed O'er fair Kawhia's waters, hills and vales That stretched unto the sea, o'er which their sires In ages past sailed from Hawaiki's shores, The tears ran down their tatooed cheeks, and sobs Welled from their bosoms, for they loved the land With all the love intense a Maori feels For childhood's home ! The hist'ry of their tribe Was written there on every rock and hill That sentinelled the scene, for these had known Their deeds of prowess, and their fathers' deeds Of valour ! And the caverns held the bones Of those from whom they'd sprung! Their legends wild, And weird traditions, chained them to the place, And ere they burst those links of love, they gave A long sad look on each familiar spot And wailed above Kawhia's lovely vale. of the Maori and Moa. 23 " Oh ! Kawhia, remain, Cavern, gorge, and bay, Valley and hill and plain, We are going away. " Oh ! Kawhia, remain, Take our tears and our sighs ; Spirits of heroes slain, Rise up from Reinga, 7 rise. " Oh ! Kawhia, remain, With thee, Tawhaki, 8 stay, Long may he o'er thee reign — We are going away." " Enough, enough of childish grief, E.eady, ready for the fray, March behind your mighty chief, Chant aloud the battle-lay. "Away, away with tears and sighs, Water stains the warrior's eyes, Conquest is the hero's prize, Te Rauparaha is here. "Away, away with sighs and tears, Raise your war-cry, point your spears, Onward, onward, vict'ry cheers, Te Rauparaha is here. 7 Abode of departed spirits. 8 A hero god. 24 Lays of the Land " Away, away each plaintive wail, Only cowards whine and quail, Sniff we blood upon the gale, Te Rauparaha is here. " Warriors march, warriors march, On, on, 011 to Kapita. Pillage and slay, Away and away, On, on, on to Kapita. "Warriors march, warriors march, On, on, on to Kapita. Scour every plain, Feast on the slain, On, on, on to Kapita." March the warriors ahead, Conquest in their fiery eyes, Haughty Tutakara's dead, Ngatimaniapoto flies ! False Te Wherowhero's band, Left to guard Kawhia's land, Steal like robbers in the night, Steal like dogs upon the brave ! Ha ! they're vanquished in the fight, Crushed beneath the hero's might ; Cries their chief — " Oh, Raha, save My people ! " False Waikato, run, Dim not Ngatitoa's sun ! Ho ! the feast has now becmn, Heroes, sit ye down and eat, This Waikato flesh is sweet. of the Maori and Moa. 25 By the banks of Taupo's flood Valiant Whatanui stays ! Whatanui's words are good, Speaks he in our chieftain's praise. Taranaki's hills are passed, The Waitot'ra's reached at last. Now our Rangatira reigns Lord of Wanganui's plains. Treach'rous Muapoko sends Greetings unto Rauparaha — " Raha, we are faithful friends, Come, oh come, unto our Pa, You can take and you can use Muapoko's war canoes." See base Toheriro creeps From the whare where the chief, Unsuspicious, dreams and sleeps. Ha ! he wakes, and madly leaps Through the darkness ; shriek and wail Tell to him the bloody tale Of his slaughtered kinsmen ! grief Fills the hero's bosom. Ho ! Traitor dogs, ye soon shall know What it is to thus betray Ngatitoa's chief; your foe He is now by night and day. Soon your leader's bones shall bleach White by Rangitiki's flood : Let your women scream and screech, Ngatitoa claims your blood ! 26 Lays of the Land Vengeance now, Waipata falls, Vengeance now, Waikeikei's walls Tumble ! bursting breach on breach, Ngatitoa's warriors rush, Red with vict'ry's crimson flush. Ngatitoa rules supreme, Kapita is conquered now — Do I sleep, or do I dream ? See ! a thousand axes gleam, And a thousand spears, I trow, Held in strong avenging hands, Point to Ngatitoa's bands. Wanganui's warriors strong, Turakina's spearmen bold, Sweep like hurricane along With Patea's men, enrolled With Waipounamt's 9 fierce throng, To uproot usurping power. Luckless day and luckless hour That ye met, and dared to face Ngatitoa's conq'ring race. Waierowa's stream is red With the life-springs of your dead ; Waierowa's beach is strewn With the bodies of your slain — Rauparaha shall rule alone, Victory is his again ! Make the song of triumph known, Till the hills give back refrain. ■Middle Island. of the Maori and Moa. 27 " The sea rushed up with plunging shocks, Kapai ! l Rauparaha ! To claim the land and beat the rocks, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The rocks stood firm and broke the waves ; So stood the Ngatitoa braves — Ngatitoa's foes are slaves, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " The stars came out to match the sun, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! To claim the crown that he had won, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The sun shot forth its brightest rays, And quenched the stars in fiery blaze ; Then chant the Ngatitoa's praise, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " The Tuis came the Hawk to kill, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! And yet the Hawk is living still, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The Hawk can soar, the Hawk can fight— The Tuis tried to stay his flight — ■ The Hawk shall have a feast to-night, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " The conqueror's red eyes are now fixed on the distant coast, For news has reached the victor's ears of Rerawhaka's boast, 1 Good. 28 Lays of the Land That lie, with tooth of shark, would rip Te Rauparaha in twain. The hero cannot rest until this braggart chief is slain. The war canoes are ready, and the warriors are here ; From Rangitoto, flushed with pride, to Kaikoura they steer. Three hundred braves have landed, and sweep upon their foes, As fiercely as the cataracts fed by Mount Una's snows Sweep wild through Spencer's mountain cleft, and down through Ada's vale ! The dying shrieks in chorus harsh are borne upon the gale. Te Rauparaha has waded deep in boastful foemen's gore, And Rerawhaka's bones shall bleach on far Kapha's shore. Full fourteen hundred victims have been conquered in the fray — The Nilw Manga 2 shall be famed in legend and in lay For evermore, for there was tamed proud Rerawhaka's pride ; But Kaiapoi is defended still, and strongly fortified — Te Pehi has been slaughtered within its treacherous walls — The Ngatitoa cannot rest until base Kaiapoi falls. 2 Battle of the Shark's tooth. of the Maori and Moa. 29 Fierce and fast, fierce and fast Rush the Ngatitoa men, Now the outer works they've passed — Now they're beaten back again. Bullets fly, bullets fly, y Valiant men of battle fall, Still the force within defy Ngatitoa, chief and all. Through the swamp, through the swamp Comes Taiaroa to their aid ; Rush the outposts, fire the camp, Burn each fence and palisade. Through the fire and through the smoke, Swiftly Ngatitoa broke With a scream and a yell ; And the glare and the flare Of the fire-tongues in the air, Flung a demoniac light On the horrors of the fight ; And the children in affright, And the women in despair, Shrieked for mercy, but in vain. And the blazing timbers threw A ghastly lurid hue On the wounded and the slain. And as the fierce light gleamed On the warriors, they seemed 3 Muskets and other European weapons were used at the siege of Kaiapoi. 30 Lays of the Land Like fiends unloosed from hell. A struggle, fierce and short, And the keepers of the fort Were slaughtered for the feast, And the red sun in the west Went down as Kaipaoi fell. "Tangi, 4 tangi o'er the dead, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! Make the ovens hot and red, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! Death, and bondage, and disgrace Come to all who dare to face Ngatitoa's conq'ring race, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " Slaves should have but little words, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! Little songs for little birds, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! Little Tuis should not try With their little wings to fly Where the Hawk is perched on high, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " Come, O sea ! and don't refuse Kapai ! Rauparaha ! Treasure-laden war canoes, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! All are conquered, all is won, Wera Wera's mighty son Rauparaha's great march is done, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! ' 4 Shout, cry of the Maori and Moa. 3 1 WAIPOUNAMUTU. Up northwards, near Waikato's spreading plains, A crystal mirror shimmers 'mong the hills, And sunbeams dance upon its breast to strains Of forest music ; bell-birds, tuis, rills, All blend their voices with the magic sounds The whisp'ring reeds and rushes softly make, Where playful wood-sprites have their pleasure-grounds, When Spring is young and Summer is awake ; Volcanic giants, born of fire and flood, As guardians stand around the calm retreat When all the scene is tinted with the blood Of dying day, then is the silver sheet O'erlaid with nameless glories,— then the bloom Of korimiko groves seems richer, and aglow The rata flushes, and the sweet perfume, That floats from where the rich tawhirris grow, Embalms the sunset treasures as they fall And melt upon the lake's clear bosom deep, When twilight's tints are stealing over all, And o'er the waters weird-like shadows creep ; When all the changeful colours of the eve — Pink, violet, and purple — fade away, With crimson, gold and amber, but to leave The scene enwrapp'd in folds of sombre grey. Oh, lovely, lucid lake ! how few who know The story that is thine ! for few intrude 32 Lays of the Land Upon thy stillness ; thy sad tale of woe Hath made thee now a sacred solitude. From Pakeha denier thou art free — Thy nameless beauties he hath never known ; The Maori's mana ' still is over thee : Sweet solitude, he claims thee as his own. But why shouldst thou be Tapir? why shouldst thou Hide all thy beauties, all thy splendid charms ? Why should the Pakeha, with spade and plough, Not change thy woodlands into smiling farms ? Give up thy secret — say what strange romance Hangs over thee, Waipounamutu ? Ah ! Methinks I see fierce braves, with spears, advance Unto thy peaceful shores from distant Pa. '• Revenge ! Revenge ! " and <: Blood ! " these are their cries. I know thy story now — a tale of grief — A narrative of sorrows and of sighs ; Twas thus I heard it from an aged chief : A summer's night — the witching noon — The big, round, ripe, uncovered moon Displays her form in full ; her light Streams down in showers of silver bright On lakes, and bays, and river floods, And brooks that wander through the woods ; But brighter than on other streams She spreads to-night her silver beams On broad Waikato— famed in song — The nurse of heroes fierce and strong — 1 Sway. 2 Sacred. of the Maori and Moa. 33 The cradle often thousand braves, — Tawhaki, 8 guard thy swelling waves ! At least, to-night, Tawhaki, we Look up and pray for help from thee. To-night Waikato's waters bear A noble freight ; and who shall dare To stay Te Raupa's swift canoe ? See ! how he works his paddle true, And toils as if it were a race For life. Behold ! he turns his face — His eagle eyes are gazing back As if some foe were on his track. What can his hurried glances bode ? Te Raupa has a precious load — Maroti's only daughter. See ! She stands beside her warrior ! he Has risked his life — impulsive youth — To prove his love ; his soul, in truth, Was wedded unto hers for years. But, heedless of her sighs and tears, Her sire, Maroti, heartless stood — He hated all her lover's brood — And swore that if her brave came nigh His whare, lovers both should die. But Love's fierce passion, warm and true, Will urge a man to dare and do Deeds which, in calmer times, would seem Impossible. Oh ! precious dream Of transient joy and nameless bliss, The ecstasy of one sweet kiss 8 A powerful god. 34 Lays of the Land From lips we prize sets all aglow The god-sparks in our frames, and so The narrow self within us dies, And nobler inspirations rise ; We live in those we love, and they Exist in us — ray blends with ray — Till one rich beam illumes two clods With all the fire of all the gods. Te Raupa's love was quenchless ; he Adored the fond Kearoa ; she Look'd up to him, her heart's first lord — The god she worshipp'd and adored. Nay, Pakeha, turn not away In scornful pity ; do not say That love like hers was vile and vain, And worship such as hers profane. The gods her fathers bowed to sank In all that graces godhead's rank To nothingness when placed beside Her youthful chief — her joy and pride. He fear'd not danger, knew not fear ; And, to secure a prize so dear, He scal'd her father's Pa, and caught His loved one in his arms, and brought Her safely o'er the fortress stakes Unnoticed ; then, through swamps and brakes, They reached the river's edge, where lay His swift canoe, and then away The youthful lovers floated free Upon the river's breast ; and we Are watching their approach. They speed By slender rush and plumed reed, of the Maori a fid Moa. And now the noble warrior steers Into a wooded bend. " What, tears, Kearoa ? do not weep nor sigh ; Our journey soon shall end, and I Shall give to thee a home so fair That spirits up in Reinga i there Shall envy thee, my soul, my life, Rich blossom of my hope, sweet wife. All that I have, and all I hold, Shall there be thine; now let me fold Thy matchless form unto my heart, To kiss away the pearls that start From those deep, lustrous orbs of thine. There, there ! I've dried them ; do not pine ; Thy father's love is cold compared To that within my breast. I've dared The terrors of his Pa for thee ; Come, come, my own love, lean on me. Our swift canoe within this nook We'll leave, and then up yonder brook A little way a track there lies Well known to me ; I'll bear my prize Along it till we reach a glade Where echoes die and shadows fade ; From thence a lovely valley bends Its arm around the hills, and trends In graceful beauty to a lake, Where waves and woods their music make, Till leaves and ripples dance with glee To Nature's magic minstrelsy. 4 Heaven. C 2 36 Lays of the Land From thence 'tis but a little pace Unto the dwellings of my race ; Within my father's Pa, my sweet, There thou shalt find a safe retreat ;— So come, Kearoa." Then he raised Her shapely form ; she fondly gazed With tender glance upon her chief, For love had conquered fear and grief; And with a graceful spring the pair Leap'd on the velvet bank, and there They sealed again, with one more kiss, Their holy union. Love like this Deserves a future fair ; but Fate Is cold and wayward oft, and hate- Cold heartless monster— often strives To cast a blight on loving lives. But lo ! the moon looks sad and pale Through boughs and branches down the vale ; Kearoa and her chief have gone, And we are here, alone, alone. ****** The shadows have vanished, the woods are awake With matin and carol, with lyric and lay ; The boughs and the branches and wild blossoms shake Their pearly perfumes on the lashes of day— Those fringes of gold that sweep down from the east To brush off the dew-beads. The hills are aglow With showers of sunbeams. Ob, glorious feast ! The treasures of morning above and below of the Maori and Moa. 3 7 Are scattered profusely, and bountiful earth Displays all her charms, while her creatures rejoice ; Calm Waipounamutu, a morning of mirth Is rising o'er thee; — From thy shore floats a voice : — '• Morning on the mountains, Brilliants on the fountains, Dazzling in the distance, sparkling in the sun, Dashing down the ledges, Leaping through the sedges, Scattering their diamond spray around them as they run. "See ! the lake is dreaming, While the rays are streaming, Dancing on its bosom ; love of mine, awake I Long hast thou been sleeping, Watch have I been keeping; Spirit of my spirit, rise, and look upon the lake ! " 'Twas thus Te Raupa sang above The sleeping form of his dear love, Kearoa's strength had failed ere dawn, So, seeking out a sheltered lawn Beside the water's edge, he made A couch for her, and gently laid The lovely maiden there to rest, Her head reclining on his breast. His father's Pa was still away Beyond the hills, where rose the day To gild Waipounamutu's flood. Kearoa wakes. " Ah ! kind and good, 38 L ays of the Land Hast thou been keeping watch o'er me ? I have been dreaming, love, of thee ; And in my dream methought that I Heard mocking kakas wail and cry- Above thy corse, and o'er thy bier ; The hungry cormorants were near; And close by thee my father stood, His hands died purple in thy blood. Oh ! love, it was a fearful sight." Te Raupa laughed. " This childish fright Is but the outcome of a dream ; Come, smile, my sweet." A fierce wild scream Was heard among the bushes. " Save Thyself and me ! " The startled brave Sprang to his feet. " Too late, too late, Son of a treach'rous dog ; thy fate Is in my hands, and thou shalt die. Stand where thou art— thou canst not fly, For see, my warriors are here, Surrounding thee with axe and spear." Te Raupa stood entrapped — no chance To 'scape, but one : his eagle glance Fell on the lake, upon whose bank The plumed reeds grew thick and rank. He whispered, " To my body cling, Kearoa." Then, with one wild spring, He leaped with her into the flood. The warriors in amazement stood A few short seconds, then they flew Along the banks, and madly threw Their vengeful spears into the waves of the Maori and Moa. 39 Where sank the pair. The baffled braves, Alhirst for blood, plunged headlong in ; Kearoa's father and his kin Dived downwards, and swam round the spot Again and then again, but not Upon the lake a single trace Could there be found of form or face, Except their own ; and all that day They searched, but searched in vain, and they Returned to tell the wondrous tale To all their people. Many a wail Of sorrow for Kearoa's fate Was heard for years, and even hate Paled into pity for the youth Who nobly proved his love and truth For that sweet maiden. Stranger yet The sequel seems : — When night has set Her sable-silver lunar trace On calm Waipounamutu's face, A swift canoe is seen to glide With sweep majestic o'er the tide ; And in that strange and weird canoe Kearoa and her lover true Are seated. Kaka feathers red Bedeck the youthful hero's head ; A heron's plume of snowy white — The badge and emblem of his right — Waves also o'er that noble brow ; And warriors, when they see him, bow, And cry for great Tawhaki's aid. Kearoa, too, that queenly maid, 40 Lays of the Land Looks through the night with lustrous eyes That shame the planets in the skies ; So bright are they, so full of fire, That gazers feel a strange desire To bask 'neath them upon the waves For ever as love's faithful slaves. But those who, when the moon is round, Have heard the weird melodious sound That floats across the lake at night, Become bewildered with delight. The spirit-lovers' voices ring In strains sublime as thus they sing: — " Hope is fair, Truth is rare — Souls united cannot sever ; Hope may die, Truth may fly — Love lives on for ever. " Faith seems sure, Honour pure — "Wedded souls are parted never ; Faith may shake, Honour break — Love lives on for ever. " Friends may range, Friendships change, Heroes die in vain endeavour ; Only love, Born above, Lives and moves for ever." of the Maori and Jlloa. 41 M'GILLVIRAY'S DREAM. A forest-ranger's story. Just nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders Since close to this spot we lay waiting the foe ; Ay, here is the mound where brave Percival moulders, And yonder's the place where poor Norman lies low ; 'Twas only a skirmish— just eight of our number "Were stretch'd on the sward when the fighting was done; We scooped out their beds, and we left them to slumber, The bold-hearted fellows went down with the sun. The month was October — young Summer was peep- ing Through evergreen forests where Spring, still supreme, Spread all the rich tints that she had in her keeping On tree, shrub, and bush, while each brooklet and stream With babblings of joy ran along to the river — But, hang it, old man, I am going too far ; I talk as I used to when from Cupid's quiver Flew darts of affection my bosom to scar. 42 Lays of the Land I'm not much .it poetry, Jack, though I've written Some nonsense in verse when my heart was aglow With what they call love— have you ever been smitten By some artful minx who deceived you? What, No? By Jove, you've been lucky ; but, Jack, I'm digress- ing. Our quarters were here, under Lusk, and we made Our camp in the church without asking a blessing ; This place is still known as the Mauku Stockade. 1 I'd fought with Von Tempsky along the Waikato ; I'd seen the green banks of that fair river dyed With British blood, red as the plumes of the rata When Spring scatters scarlet drops thick in her pride. I cared not for danger, and fighting was pleasure, The life of a Ranger was one of romance — A dare-devil fool ever ready to measure A savage's length with my rifle. 'Twas chance That sent me among them ; I liv'd but for glory ; My comrades were all of good mettle and true, And one was a hero ; I'll tell you his story — God rest poor M'Gillviray — brave-hearted Hugh ! I knew him for years, Jack, and shoulder to shoulder He stood by me often when swift leaden hail Whizzed close to our ears. Ah ! old man, I was bolder In those valiant days than I'm now. To my tale : — 1 On October 23rd, 1S63, a skirmish took place at Mauku Stockade, in which the subject of this poem and seven others were killed. of the Maori and Moa. 4 3 The morning was gloomy, and Hugh sat beside me ; "We'd chumm'd in together for two years or more ; I found him a brick, and he said when he tried me In front of the foe, " Bill, you're true to the core ! " Enough, we were friends, and in trouble or danger We stuck by each other in camp and in fray. How often we find in the breast of a stranger The heart of a kind brother throbbing away With warmest affection, responsive and tender — Hugh's breast had a tenant like this, and I knew In him I'd a brother, a friend, a defender, Prepared for whatever a brave man might do. The morning was dark, and the outlook was dreary ; I noticed my comrade was sitting alone, All thoughtful, disconsolate, pallid, and weary, " Why, where has the gladness of yesterday flown ? Come, tell me, Hugh, why you are gloomy this morning ; What change has come over my light-hearted mate ? You've not" — and I laughed— " had a Banshee's death-warning ; Have Brownies or Goblins been sealing your fate?" He turned his pale face, while his eyes, full of sorrow, Met mine, and it seemed like the gaze of the dead; I spoke once again : " Hugh, we'll meet them to- morrow, Fierce Rewi is coming this way." Then he said — " Why am I sad? Ah! comrade kind, We cannot tell why shadows fall 44 Lays of the Land Across the soul and o'er the mind ; We cannot tell why dreams recall Old scenes endear'd by mem'ry's spell, Old haunts where love and sorrow met, Old spots where airy castles fell, And hope's young sun for ever set ; We cannot tell why thought should leap Across the ocean's wide expanse, And through the telescope of sleep Review the dead years at a glance; We cannot tell But why should I Philosophize? We know we're here, And for the wherefore and the why, That problem suits the sage and seer, But not the soldier. Listen, mate — I'm not a coward, for I've stood Full face to face with death, and fate Has led me safe through scenes of blood ; But now my hour is drawing nigh, Life's battle now is nearly done, For me to-morrow's arching shy Shall canopy no rising sun.*' "Why, comrade, you but jest," I said; " You shouldn't joke with me, you know ; To-morrow's sun shall shine o'erhead, And see us watchiner for the foe." j & " Nay, comrade, we must part to-day, A hand has beckon'd through the gloom, And signalled me away, away To brighter realms beyond the tomb ; of the Maori and Moa. 45 You smile and count me as a slave Of superstition — be it so ; My vision stretches o'er the grave ; I travel where you cannot go. Ah ! friend, you were not nursed beneath The Highland hills, where every glen Is filled with those who've conquer'd death — Is tenanted with ghosts of men. Ah ! friend, your feet have never trod The mighty Bens, whose summits grim Approach the starry gates of God, Where heaven grows bright and earth gets dim. The legendary lore that clings Round Highland hearts you have not felt, Nor yet the weird imaginings Which stir the spirit of the Celt. Well, hear my story — listen, pray, And I'll explain why I am sad And in a downcast mood to-day. You smile again and deem me mad, — Last night I was again a boy Light-hearted 'mong my native hills, Fill'd with a bright, ecstatic joy, And pure as my own mountain rills ; I stood beneath old Monagh Leagh, 2 Nor far from rugged Dumnaglass, And in the distance I could see Wild Farracagh's romantic Pass ; * The grey mountain. 46 Lays of the Land A monarch proud, a youthful king, Alone with nature there I stood, At peace with God and everything, For all His works seemed fair and good ; But best and fairest of them all Was she who came to meet me there, — I little thought dreams could recall Those silken waves of sunny hair, That tender smile, those eyes of blue, The magic of whose flashing glance Inflamed my soul with love, and threw A glamour round me ; — joyous trance ! We met last night just as of old, And Elsie nestled by my side, While playing with each tress of gold I whispered, 'Lassie, be my bride.' The sweet soft answer came — why dwell On that dear moment of delight ? Our heaven was in that Highland dell, Where all seemed beautiful and bright. We parted, and my dreaming soul On fancy's pinions forward flew O'er five short years, and reached the goal That love and hope had kept in view. Oh, joyous day ! a merry throng Were gathered on the Clachan green, The villagers, with dance and song, Held jubilee ; that happy scene Is treasured in my memory still. I hold again that little hand ; I hear the whispered word, ' I will ! ' I lead her through that cheerful band, of the Maori and Moa. 47 While Donald Beg, 3 and Fergus Mohr, 4 And Angus Dhu 5 — the pipers three — Strike up, while marching on before, The pibroch of M'Gillviray. Oh ! how the wild notes brought a flood Of mem'ries bright and glories gone, When, for the Royal Stuart blood, Our chief led great Clan Chatton G on To famed Culloden's field ;— 'Tis past, That marriage scene with all its charms \ And winter comes with freezing blast, To find my young wife in my arms, And all the villagers in tears Assembled round us — she was gone ; The prize was mine a few short years, And I was now alone, alone. Oh ! what had I to live for then? One clasp, one look, one fond caress, And flying far from each proud Ben, With sorrow deep as dark Loch Ness, I left my humble Highland home, To gaze on Monagh Leagh no more. With blighted heart I crossed the foam And landed on New Zealand's shore ; You know the rest " '• But what has all This home-sick dreaming got to do With death, my friend ? " 3 Little Donald. 4 Big Fergus. 5 Black Angus. 6 A M'Gillviray led the Clan Macintosh, or Clan Chatton, at Culloden. 4-8 Lays of the Land " I've got a call To meet my Elsie." " Nonsense, Hugh ! " I laughed, but still his brow was sad, " Cheer up and chase this gloom away, There's pleasure yet in life, my lad." " I tell you we must part to-day ; I have not told you all that passed Before me in my dreaming hours. This day, with you, shall be my last. True friendship, Bill, has long been ours, And we must part in love, my friend, — You smile again — well, time will prove My premonition true ;— The end Is drawing nigh ;— Behold my love, My life, my Elsie, on yon hill, — • Ay, yonder hill is Monagh Leagh— Just listen, friend, she's calling still, And still the dear one beckons me Away — the sun upon the peaks Is blushing crimson o'er the snow. Behold ! how bright its rays and streaks Are dancing on Loch Ness below ; Rich violet and purple clouds A tabernacle form on high, Behind whose folds the starry crowds Lie hidden in the silent sky — 'Tis there, 'tis there, the same fond face, Which, but a few short hours ago, Pressed close to mine ; just in this place of the Maori and Moa. 49 My Elsie stood, and, bending low, She whispered in an icy breath, ' Oh ! Hugh, behold thy spirit-bride. I'm here for thee; prepare for death. Thy soul to-morrow, by my side, Shall trace the scenes we loved of yore. Again, my Hugh, my husband brave, We'll watch the Highland eagle soar ; "We'll see the heath and bracken waves. Ah ! Hugh, the spirit sight is keen ; We cross the ocean with a glance ; We know not time ' She left the scene, And I awakened from my trance ; But let us change the subject, mate ; Let's have a smoke ; — Hark ! there's a shot — One, two, three, four ! we mustn't wait — Where are our rifles ? — Ah ! we've got The darkies now. See, see, they dance Before our eyes ; hear how they yell ! There goes the order for advance — There's Norman out and Percival.' J M'Gillviray ceased, and we ran to the door, Prepared to advance where our officers led ; Both Hill and O'Beirne were well to the fore, While Norman and Percival rushed on ahead. Flash ! flash ! went our rifles ; we followed their track, And in through a gap in the timber we broke ; We fired again, and they answered us back — The rebels, I mean — as they plunged through the smoke. D 50 . Lays of the Land " Now back to the camp, lads ; we've scattered the swine ; They've tasted enough of our metal to-day ! " Twas Percival spoke, and we fell into line, And back through the break in the bush took our way. We reached but the centre, when out from the bush That skirted each side with its branches and logs The Maoris in crowds, with a yell and a rush, Encompassed us: — "Boys, give the treacherous dogs A taste of our true British pluck ! " a wild cry, As a tomahawk's stroke cut the sentence in twain, Went in through the woodlands and up to the sky, And Percival lay in the front of the slain. Oh God ! in my ears still rings yell after yell. I see the bright tomahawks dripping with blood ; The wild demons looked as if painted in hell ; They leaped through the thicket and burst from the wood. Outflanked and outnumbered, our officers dead, A handful of men in the grasp of the foe, What could we have done in such stress ? sd we fled When Norman and Wheeler and Hill were laid low. We reached the old church, but the savages stay'd To butcher the wounded and mangle the slain ; They vanished ere night in the forest's dark shade, To steer their canoes o'er Waikato again. At daybreak we went to the scene of the fray, To bury our comrades and bid them adieu, And near a small mound where five savages lay, We found brave M'Gillviray sleeping there too. of the Maori and Moa. 5 1 Five warrior chiefs proved the work he had done ; They fell by his hand ere his soul went to God ; He smiled in the face of the bright morning sun That shone on the purple streaks o'er the green sod. I planted a wattle to mark where he sleeps — I wonder where is it ? — Ah, there stands the tree ! By Jove, it's in blossom too ! see how it weeps Rich tears of bright gold o'er the hillock where he Is resting in peace. Is he dreaming there still Of Elsie, his bride, and his dear Highland glen ? This life is a puzzle, Jack ; fight as we will, We're nothing at last but the shadows of men. The substance soon blends with the blossoms and weeds That spring to the surface ; and as for the soul, Perhaps it may flourish or fade in its deeds, Or find in some other bright planet its goal. d 2 52 L ays of the L and THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. (Sydney Exhibition, 1879.) Room for another nation ! in the van, Among the foremost pioneers that climb The steeps of progress, where the goal of Man Illumes the highest pinnacle of time. Room for another nation ! young and strong, Among the heralds of the coming Light, Whose rays shall thaw the frost of ancient wrong, Until it flows in streams of future right. Room for another nation ! Britain leads Her sunny daughter 'mong her proudest peers ; Robed in the glories of her heroes' deeds She reaps the harvest of a thousand years. Advance, advance ! and bid the nations draw Around the standard of the sheaf and fleece, And sacred symbol of the higher law — Our charter for this Jubilee of Peace. Send out our greetings on the whisp'ring string That links our shores to countries far away ; Speak to the distant lands, and bid them bring Rich garlands for our victory to-day. of the Maori and Jl/oa. 5 3 The married oceans leap for joy, and bear Upon their heaving breasts fleet after fleet ; To-day our Father hears a living prayer For peace eternal, where the Nations meet. To-day the spirits of our valiant sires Start into life above their island graves ; Their noblest aspirations and desires Are blossoming by broad Pacific's waves ; The kingly souls who spread the precious seed Of future glory for our royal race, When Freedom was baptized at Runnymede, Are here to-day before us, face to face. Ay, here to-day, though not in mortal cage, Each valiant victor leaves his dust behind, And wears the spirit-youth of Fame's old age — We see them through the mirror of the mind. Bold planters of that noble British tree, Beneath whose shade our greatness had its birth ; That tree whose roots have grown, through land and sea, To bear new trunks at either end of earth ! Can we forget the architects who laid The firm foundations of our Parent State ? Can we forget the noble men who made A breach for Justice, and for Truth a gate ? Ah, no ! For at the base they toiled that we Might reach the apex when the work was done ; They lived and died to build an Empire free That knows no rising and no setting sun. 54 Lays of the Land An Empire built of Nations, young and old, Which gather round the central heart, and cling In unity together, and enfold Earth's swelling bodice in a golden ring. Immortal shades of More and Raleigh rise ! Behold the Past is to the Present wed ; Utopia is here 'neath southern skies, And gleamy El Dorado looms ahead. They were not dreamers, but prophetic seers, Whose lance-like sight cut through the ages' gloom, And pierced the vista of the coming years, Beholding lands where all their hopes should bloom. O bondless brothers ! since the pulse of time Beat with primeval throbs, no land hath known Such fulness of God's love as this our clime ; His richest gifts are all our own, our own. Our fathers' swords and spears are treasured still In Freedom's white-cliffed citadels afar; — Strong scythes and sickles that have cleared the hill Where Peace ascends above the gulf of War. They're treasured still, with honour and with pride, For all the sheaves of glory garnered when Light fought with Darkness in the crimson tide, And wrestled for the sinking souls of men. ■a They're treasured still, but only for the past : A gentler era brings us brighter arms ; " Plowshare " and " pruning-hook " are here at last, Our battlefields to-day are fertile farms. of the Maori and Moa. 5 5 Our weapons win from waste field after field, Ours is the chivalry of manly toil ; Our squadrons make hill, plain, and valley yield The welcome fatness of the fruitful toX. Our bold detachments, sweeping o'er the plain, Sing songs of triumph as they reap and mow The gold-plumed myriads of nodding grain, Which fall and die, that men may live and grow. Our martial music is the thresher's drum, The engine's shriek and whistle, and the din Of stirring workshops, and the busy hum Of those who toil their daily bread to win ; The whizzing fly-wheel, and the sledge's swing, That wakes the anvil's clear and cheerful tones ; The shuttle's clatter and the hammers ring ; The mason's chisel fashioning the stones ; The buzz of commerce in the city's hive; The fresh young merry voices in the school ; The clanging press that keeps men's thoughts alive — Such is the music of Progression's rule. To this we ope our Universal Mart — Oh ! never, never, may such music cease ; To this we spread abroad our country's chart, And chant her story in a song of peace : — Three centuries have scarcely rolled along The slopes of time, since on the Dutchman's view The golden sun-burst of the south streamed down 56 Lays of tlie Land On shores that stretched athwart the placid sheen Of Father Neptune's unexplored domains. Three centuries have still their fragments here, Which are not wrapp'd for aye in hist'ry's fold, Since first the swarthy Spaniard doffed his cap, Whilst gazing on the starry cross that hung In speckless azure o'er the looming land Of peace and plenty in the sunny South. But not for Spain nor Holland was the prize Reserved by God : His hand, which ever works For future good, possessed the promised land, And held it for His special pioneers — A race of noble races, formed to rule, And build up nations for mankind at large. Years followed years adown the stream of time, And silence slept in undisturbed repose Above the virgin plains and forests, where The wealth of future millions lay concealed ; And o'er the Cyclop-browed Plutonic rocks Which frown'd above Pacific's heaving breast Repelling her approaches, flinging back Her white-robed arms which stretched forth to embrace The stony-hearted offspring of her womb, The sea birds held dominion undisturbed. At length the time arrived for opening up The treasuries where Nature long had stored The fruitage ripe of her prolific prime ; And God sent forth a man to break the spell, And wake the sunny virgin from her trance. O day of days ! when first the British flag — That silken shield of Justice— waved on high of the Maori and Moa. 5 7 Above the peaceful coast, to consecrate Our giant island for the use of man ; O day of days ! when first a British cheer Resounded far and wide 'mong vales and hills, Proclaiming the foundation of a State, The birthday of an Empire ; Day of days ! When on our shores that prince of British tars, Immortal Cook, stood forth in England's name, And claimed the mighty continent for her. But not for her alone did Heaven grant This glorious gift. No, England ! 'twas but thine To hold in trust for millions yet unborn, And thou wert but the stewardess of God. Years followed years, and fleet sailed after fleet, Freighted with hearts of oak across the deep; — The bravest men and women of our race — The sturdy Saxon and the gen'rous Celt — Sought room to breathe a purer, fresher air, And found that room beyond the Central Line, Where gorgeous sunsets sink in evening's lap And melt in golden dreams on ocean's breast. Years followed years, and soon the mighty pulse Of life, and love, and happiness, and hope Began to throb throughout the wilds and wastes, Till these, transformed, became the sunny scenes Of bright -browed labour. Peace and plenty spread Their blessings far and wide, with Wisdom's wand ; Progression's spirit, permeating all, Burst into fluent floods of brilliant light, Dispelling all the shadows of the land. 58 Lays of the Land Spring changed her dress of ages, and appeared In new-made robes of rich and varied hues ; The fresh wild fragrance of her golden groves Of bright acacias blended on the breeze With all the perfumes of each exiled rose That clustered round the happy homesteads, where The hardy husbandmen had cast their lots. On Summer's cheeks there spread a fuller bloom, And ere she fell asleep in Autumn's arms, The goddess Ceres, robed in rustling dress Of laughing sheaves, moved proudly o'er the scene. The wond'ring savage, from the murky gloom, Beheld the strange transition, filled with awe ; And fearless of its swarthy hunter now The startled kangaroo turn'd in its flight, And sat a moment near his dusky foe To gaze upon the new intruders who Invaded their dominions. O'er the plain The frightened emu swiftly fled afar ; And swarms of rainbow-plumaged paroquets Flew through the leafy corridors to trill Their chatt'ring wonder to the stoic bird, — That wing'd philosopher who laughs at change And all things else with weird and mocking laugh. Again, again years followed years, and lo ! A grander transformation meets our gaze : Earth yields the golden magnet hidden long Within the deep recesses of her womb, And tens of thousands of the noblest hearts That ever beat in British breasts are drawn Across the swelling sea -slopes to our shores. Proud cities spring to life, and mansions rise of the Maori and Moa. 59 Where stillness erst had slumbered o'er the land ; White fleets of stately ships sleep on our bays, Whose placid waters lap the sloping lawns That stoop to blend their green with Ocean's blue. Still em'ralds, drowned in sapphires, dance beneath Translucent diamonds show'ring from the sun : In lucid mirror crystalline the hills Behold their forms in richest verdure robed, And see their breeze-stirr'd orange plumes dis- played ; Upon the warmest sunspots of the slopes, Umbrageous vines in love together cling, And shake their amber and their purple drops In all the pride of culture and of wealth ; Behind the sea-girt terraces and tiers Of swelling uplands stretch broad plains and meads, Where flocks and herds are browsing in the flush Of mellow beams that woo the verdure forth And suck the floral sweetness of the earth. Adown the valleys and athwart the tracts Of plain and forest rush the whizzing trains, Bearing the fruits of industry and toil Unto the giant market-place within The Empire City of the Golden South. Oh, grand fulfilment of our fathers' hopes ! The prophet's visions and the poet's dreams Are realized to day ; triumphant Peace Within her Southern Palace sits enthroned, And all the nations bow before her shrine, And turn away from crimson-mantled War, Who hides his savage face, for very shame, Behind the crumbling ruins of the past, 6o Lays of the Land Beyond the oceans which he dare not leap To stain the land where Concord rules supreme. Proud Sydney ! it is thine to take the lead Of all thy sisters in the noble work Of rearing up a fane to commerce, where True emulation in the arts of peace Holds sovereign sway, where competition springs With all the spirit of our forward age, Which marches onward in the common cause To reach the possibilities of man : Tis thine to gather up the living thoughts Of master minds, that shape themselves in Art ; 'Tis thine to spur on Science in the race, And thine to spin the intellectual threads Which by-and-by will hold in silken skeins The scattered peoples of the Earth, and weave Them altogether in a web of love. To-day, to-day we hear thee sending forth The shout of welcome to the world at large ; To-day thy voice proclaims to every land, Great Austral's golden jubilee of peace ; And in response the nations all advance To hail the greater Cambria, and sing Her praises in a chorus of acclaim : — " Honour and peace to thee, May they increase to thee, Spreading new blessings round liberty's shrine ; Greatness of name to thee, Glory and fame to thee, Lovely young land of the orange and vine. of the Maori and Moa. 6 1 '•' Plenty's prolific streams, Melted by golden beams, Flow from thy bosom in freshness, and shine Bright where thy sunny skies Up from the sea arise, Arching the land of the orange and vine. " Hail to thy healthy heart ! Here, in thy mighty mart, Meet me together to-day, to entwine Wreaths round thy royal brow, Queen of Pacific, thou Lovely young land of the orange and vine." Now, now the noble gates of human effort are ajar, And through their open portals sweep the squadrons from afar ; Progression holds a festival beneath our speckless skies, Where competition gathers all the wealth of enter- prise ; The ripe fruition of the brain, the triumph of the will, Spring into life mechanical through scientific skill ; Before the rays of intellect the clouds of error flee ; The sun of knowledge shines upon our Golden Jubilee. Now, now upon the Bay of Bays the gallant ships advance ; The triple cross of Britain and the triple bars of France ; The flags of Lusitania, Italia, and Spain ; The standard of Germania, the ensign of the Dane ; 62 Lays of the Land The colours of the Austrian, the Swiss, the Swede, the Sclave ; The Hollander and Belgian, the Greek and Moslem wave Above the noble floating forts of commerce on the sea— Europa sends her off'rings to our Golden Jubilee. Our sunburst gilds the crimson stripes and galaxy of stars That float in silken majesty above the stately spars, And through the groves of tap'ring masts our balmy breezes steal To kiss the flag of Mexico, the banner of Brazil, The streamers of Bolivia, of Chili, of Peru, And all the young Republics of Iberia the New. To-day, to-day proud Sydney is the magnet of the free ; She draws the states together in her Golden Jubilee. The East, where God first gave our race the compass and the chart To guide it through the ages to our Universal Mart, Mind's highest, latest terminus upon the wondrous plan That maps our journey upward to the destiny of Man, — The East pays tribute at the shrine of Progress, and demands Bright niches in our temple for the riches of her lands ; of the Maori and Moot. 63 And even Afric', from the rear, leaps forward now with glee To offer up her homage at our Golden Jubilee. And all the young Democracies within our Empire's folds Display their wealth, and closer cling around their Mother old ; They honour us to honour her — the fount from whence they've sprung — Truth, Freedom, Peace, and Commerce speak 0111 Anglo-Saxon tongue. And now their clear-toned voices blend in unison and pray For blessings on the harvest which they've garnered here to-day. O Father of the Universe ! we offer it to Thee, Great Lord of light, and love, make this Thy Golden Jubilee ! 64 Lays of the Land IN THE TEMPLE. "Arise ! arise from thy sluggish dreams," Softly whispered my soul unto me; " Bountiful Nature her treasure teems Over wood, mountain, valley and lea ; Earth has opened her pores to the sun, Health and wealth through her arteries run ; — Arise ! let us go to the Temple. " The priestess, Spring, on her altars green, Glorifies God in her morning dress ; Nature, attired in vernal sheen, Leads up her child to the sun's caress ; God is breathing through her on the hills, His voice is heard through the brooks and rills Arise ! let us go to the Temple. " Others may look for the Light above, Through narrow cages of wood and stone, Cabined within from the rays of Love ; Up on the hills we're nearer the Throne. This is the Sabbath, and I am free," Softly whispered my soul unto me, " Arise ! let us go to the Temple." of the Maori and Moa. 65 AT MATINS. I followed my spirit up the steps of the mighty altars, Draped in brightest green, rising o'er the sea ; I gazed through the open bodice of Spring, and sa;v her bosom Swelling with rich nutrition and pouring Earth's milk in streams prolific over hedges, meads, and orchards, Leaving its perfumed cream on the haw- thorn ; I saw the pink tint of her healthy cheeks on the fresh heath beds Where she had rested all through the winter; I saw the impress of her rosy lips on the banks and slopes Where she had kissed the tears from the flowerets ; I saw rich threads of her golden hair on the wild broom and furze — Her yellow ringlets on the wattle-trees ; I saw her invested with her sacred robes, standing erect On topmost step of the highest altar ; I watched her swinging her golden censers to the azure dome, And as the fragrant incense mounted high The mighty organ, worked by Ocean-sprites, boomed grand and solemn E 66 Lays of the Land Through the lofty Temple, and Nature's choir Of birds and insects, brooks and zephyrs, burst forth in melody, And praised the Omnipresent God in song : — "Spirit of Omnipotence, Mystic Soul of every sense, Truth sublime and Love intense, Nature smiles before Thee ; Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, All the Seasons to Thee bring Tribute ; Lord of everything, Father, we adore Thee. " Centre of Eternal Light, Nature's forces all unite Praising Thee, the Infinite, — Nothing shall ignore Thee. Take, Oh ! Power that gave us birth, All our music and our mirth, All the sweetness of the earth — Father, we adore Thee. " Framer of Creation's laws, Source of all that is, and was, And shall be — Omnipresent Cause, There is no King o'er Thee. Thou art still the First and Last ; Thou art Future, Present, Past, Builder of this Temple vast, — Father, we adore Thee." of the Maori and Moa. 67 Sabbath bells are tolling, tolling : "Come and worship, come and pray." Ocean's mighty voice is rolling Solemn chants from far away ; Rills and brooks and birds are sineinsj Nature's psalms and hymns and glees, And the morning breeze is swinging Censers on the orchard trees. Little churches, little steeples, Little souls and little hearts, Little nations, little peoples, Actors playing little parts ; After all we're very little, Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. In the Temple of Creation, Soaring to the speckless dome, Seek our souls their destination, Dreaming of a future home ; 'Mongst the bright, the pure, the stainless, In the realms of bliss and mirth, Ah ! our spirits are not chainless, They are fettered still to earth. Little tricks and little treasons, Little hates and little spites, Little months and little seasons, Little days and little nights ; After all we're very little, Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. e 2 68 L ays of the L and Soul and mind, and sense and feeling, Watch, upon the mountain's brow, Nature, in her prime, revealing All her vernal treasures now. From his throne, old Sol, the gilder, Greets us with a warm caress ; Worshipping the Temple's Builder, We can feel our nothingness. Little sorrows, little troubles, Little griefs and little joys, Little castles, little bubbles, Little towers and little toys ; After all we're very little, Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. AT VESPERS. Above the Temple's shrines, and altars bold, Night's silver lamp hung high with fullest face, And shed refulgent showers of borrowed gold O'er vale and forest ; and the russet hills Looked at their shadows in the placid bay, L T pon whose breast rich beams of mellow light Fell softly down, and merry wavelets danced Upon the shafts that stretched themselves athwart The tranquil food. The laughing ripplets seemed (Whilst shimm'ring in the glory of the moon) Like breeze-stirred edges of a gilded tome ; The brooklets, running down the deep ravines, of the Maori and Moa. 69 Sang merry carols with the playful reeds, And zephyrs stirred the flax-leaves into tune ; And up the gullies, from the cold white beach That stretched along the borders of the sea, The Ocean's organ with its deep-toned boom, Called up the wand'ring spirits of the main ; And all the breakers in their snowy robes — White-surpliced choristers — in solemn chant Burst forth into a chorus wild and grand, In Nature's untranslated language old — The tongue in which God spake ere Moses heard His voice on Sinai's Mount— ere Abram's flocks Were spread on Moreh's plain— ere Noah dwelt Within the ark — ere Adam ate the fruit Of good and evil — ere old Nature hid Her secrets 'neath the deep Silurian seas — The tongue in which the words, " Let there be light,'' Burst on the startled Universe, and swept Ten thousand worlds across the boundless dome Of God's majestic Temple, there to shine Resplendent lamps for ever round His throne. jo Lays of the Land ORAKAU. Three hundred swarthy braves at Orakau, Savage warriors from Uriwera, And from the hills and gorges of Taupo, Commanded by Rewi bold and fearless, The haughtiest Chief in all Waikato, Lay intrenched within the Pah, surrounded By over two thousand hardy Britons: Carey's Royal Celts and Forest Rangers, And Fortieth Fighters under Leslie. Upon the second morning of April, When the colours in Nature's dress were changing From the brown and russet hues of Autumn To the dark and sadder shades of Winter, Three hundred lion-hearted warriors Assembled with Rewi to fan the flame Of deadly hatred to the Pakeha Into a vengeful blaze at Orakau. Roaring for blood, our early gun Rent the clouds like a thunder-clap ; Carey cried, " There's work to be done "— Close to the walls we pushed the sap. " Ready, lads, with your hand-grenades ; Ready, lads, with your rifles true ; Ready, lads, with your trusty blades ; Ready, lads, with your bayonets too." of the Maori and J\Toa. 7 1 " Now for the Armstrongs, let them roar ; Death unto those that laugh at peace — " Into their nest our volleys pour — " Steady there ! — let the firing cease." Tis Cameron's voice — " Tell the foe To leave the Pah; their lives we'll spare. Tell them, Britons can mercy show ; Nothing but death awaits them there." Mainwaring with a flag of truce before the Maories stood, And said, " Oh, friends, be warned in time ; we do not seek your blood. Surrender, and your lives are safe." Then through the whole redoubt The swarthy rebels answered, with a fierce, defiant shout, " Ka Whawhai tonu ! Ake ! Ake ! Ake ! " l Again Mainwaring spake, " Oh, friends, you wish for blood and strife, With blind and stubborn bravery, preferring death to life: But send your women and your children forth ; they shall be free." They answered back, " Our women brave will fight as well as we : Ka Whawhai tonu ! Ake ! Ake ! Ake ! " 1 " We will fight for ever, and ever, and ever." . 7 2 Lays of the Land Again the fiery- throated cannon roared aloud for blood, Again the hungry eagle swooped and shrieked for human food, Again wild spirits, soaring, saw their shattered corses lie In pools of gore, and still was heard the fierce, defiant cry, "Ka Wbawhai tonu ! Ake! Ake ! Ake ! " With wild untutored chivalry the rebels scorn'd dis- grace ; Oh, never in the annals of the most heroic race AVas bravery recorded more noble or more lvgh, Than that displayed in Rewi's fierce defiance and reply, " Ka Whawhai tonu ! Ake ! Ake ! Ake ! " of the Maori and Moa. MELBOURNE EXHIBITION, 1S80. Cantata. Chorus. Soul of Music ! here today Speak through trumpet chord, and voice. Heart of euphony ! we pray, Eet thy pulse throb light and gay. Teach us to rejoice, rejoice. Loyal lays, songs of praise, Joyous chants of hope and love, Stirring strains, rich refrains, Raise us to thy home above. Oh, rejoice ! oh, rejoice ! Trump and cymbal, chord and voice, Rejoice ! rejoice ! rejoice ! Recitative (Tenor). The fresh young spring-tide of a nation's hope Flows out to-day, and mingles in the sea Of swift progression, whose unfettered scope Moves ever onward, measureless and free ; Britannia's life-streams round her daughter's heart In swifter, stronger, purer currents run ; Beloved by Nature, and enriched by Art, Our land is kissed and fondled by the sun. 74 Lays of the Land Solo (Soprano). Sunny slopes where vineyards flush, Garden groves where roses blush, Golden glades where wattle plumes Spread and scatter sweet perfumes, Vale and dell where zephyrs play, Wake your tuneful choirs to-day ; Let your melodies increase, Swelling in our song of peace. Solo (Contralto). From the hills where morning's glow Blushes o'er the virgin snow, Till the pure white flakes above Melt in running lays of love ; From the far-famed fields of gold, From the mill, the farm, and fold, Waves of harmony increase, Swelling in our song of Peace. Recitative (Bass). Sound, sound a welcome ! trump and drum ; Behold the free flags wave and toss here all the leading nations come To meet beneath our starrv cross. Solo (Soprano). O day of hope ! O day of pride ! Commerce leaps o'er the joyful tide ; Peace flings her palace gates ajar. Hail ! to the Nations from afar. of the Maori and Moa. 75 Chorus. Chiefs of the far lands, brave and true ; Lords of the old world and the new — Brothers ! we give our hands to you — Welcome ! welcome ! welcome. Solo (Tenor). Behold our work ! — our domes and towers. Years to you are to us but hours ; Tis but a day since our sundawn's gleam Flash'd through the clouds of a long wild dream. Chorus. Fifty years, and the shipless bay Moan'd on the beach, and the savage lay Here on the spot where we shout to-day : Welcome ! welcome ! welcome ! Solo (Bass). Who wrought this change in fifty years ? Who were the men — the pioneers ? Who were they that dispelled the gloom ? Who made the fruits and flowers to bloom ? Chorus. Who, but the sons of those that fann'd Freedom's flame in the brave old land ? To-day we sing, by their command, Welcome ! welcome ! welcome ! 7 6 Lays of the Land Chorale. God save our new land ! God bless our true land ! Home of the brave hearts that love to be free ; Guard her and guide her ; ever beside her, Keep her, O Father ! still faithful to Thee ! Watch and defend her, teach her to render Thanks unto Thee for the gifts at Thy hand. Ours, Britain's story, Ours, Britain's glory, Ours be the watchword — our Qu^cn and our land. God save our bold land ! God bless the old land ! Here, here to-day in this Temple of Art, Dearer and dearer, nearer and nearer, Cling we in love to our old Mother's heart. Hers was the mission, ours the fruition, Reapers and gleaners of glory we stand Over the ages, Sons of the sages, Shouting : Hurrah for our Queen and our land ! Trio (Soprano, Tenor, Bass). Lord of love ! on Thee we lean — Guard our country and our Queen. Shed the glory of thy face On this Home for every race. of the Maori and Mca. yj Chorus (Finale). Monarch of the spotless name, Victoria ! Victoria ! Land of liberty and fame, Victoria ! Victoria ! Father ! Father ! we implore, Bless and guide them more and more, Gracious Queen and golden shore — Victoria ! Victoria ! 78 Lays of the Land A CHRISTMAS REVERIE. My soul is silent now ; I cannot give A living impulse to the thoughts that fill My being with a plenitude of joy Too deep for utterance. Alone with God — Or Nature, if you will— I stand and strive To find expression for the love and praise That rise within me, eager to be freed From this poor clod that drags them downwards stil ; Tis evening, and fair Summer softly rests On hill and valley, sprinkled with the tears That, but an hour ago, have fallen from A silver cloud that melted in a shower Of pearly beads, when warmly kissed to life By golden sunbeams ere they hid themselves Beneath the gorgeous canopy that fades In rainbow coruscations in the west. Above the wooded slope that skirts the Leith I stand, and gaze around, and wonder why This earth of ours is called a "vale of tears." O, noble hills ! O, lovely vales and swards ! Robed in the richest foliage, and dressed In all the pride of many-tinted green ; O, singing stream ! O, flowers and blossoms rare ! That breathe your lives away in odours sweet, of the Maori and Moa. 79 And die in perfume when the summer wanes ; — O, bright-wing'd and sweet-throated choristers ! Whose notes make all the leaflets in the woods Dance on each sportive breeze in pure delight ; — O, beauties that I cannot name, but feel ! My spirit at this moment fain would lose Itself among you all, and be at one With Nature, and with that mysterious Power Whose presence is proclaimed with double force At such a time in such a scene as this ; Our Father, and our Mother, and our All ! We thank Thee for this lovely land of ours ; We bow ourselves before Thee, yet we lift Our highest aspirations up to Thee ; We feel that Thou art Omnipresent here, For all the ecstasies and pure delights That spread themselves around are part of Thee; And those with souls athirst can come and quaff The sweetness of such sacramental feasts As this, and hold communion with their God. Alone with Nature on the wooded hill That skirts the lovely valley of the Leith ; The voices of the brooklet and the rill, That purl and babble through the glen beneath ; The feather'd exiles warbling through the heath Their old-world melodies ; the tui's trill ; The mystic whisp'rings of the leaves that shake With tremulous emotion to the breeze That fans them into music on the trees ; The mournful murmur of the waves which break 8o Lays of the Land In silver flakes along the distant strand ; And all the harmonies of sea and land Blend in a glorious concert, and I stand Entranced with joy — asleep, and yet awake. A sighing sea gust from the ocean brought Forgotten Christmas memories along ; My listening spirit, wrapped in wonder, caught The soft, sweet echo of a dear old song ; And soaring skywards on the wings of thought, It chased the wandering melody that sought To find its own sweet biding place among The sacred sounds that live where angels throng. Music's heart, with wild pulsation, Throbb'd among the trembling stars, Shaking, with divine vibration, Thunder-bolts and lightning bars ; Op'ning up the azure portals, Till the echo of my lay, 'Scaping with the bright Immortals, Died in euphony away ; Where converging melodies, Silver notes from golden keys, Melt, with songs of sighing seas, In a flood of joy supreme. Still the spirit of my dream, Drunk with splendours pure and bright, Dazzled with supernal light, Strong in all its new existence, 'Franchisee! from its earthly clcd, Saw the glory in the distance ; of the Maori and Moa. 8 1 Onward soaring with the fire Of a longing swift desire To examine and inquire, Why and who and what is God ? " And why and who and what art thou That durst approach the High Unknown ? Poor naked soul, be dumb and bow Before the great eternal throne. Be dumb and bow, for God transcends The highest stretch of human thought ; He orders all for noble ends ; His works are all with wisdom fraught. Enough for thee that thou hadst birth ; Enough for thee He sent a Man To purify and bless the earth — That speck upon His wondrous plan; — Enough for thee, there lived and died, To make men noble, true and free, A thorn-crowned King in Galilee, The living God personified, The Champion who conquered hell. Descend into thy coat of clay ; Go back into thy carnal shell ; Make merry on His Natal day — This knowledge is enough for thee." The voice came from the awful height Where time becomes eternity ; My soul, though dazzled with the light, Gazed boldly up, and cried, " Ah ! why Did God send Jesus down to die A felon's death on Calvary ? 82 Lays of the Land The sacrifice was made in vain, For wrong still triumphs over right, And pleasure still succumbs to pain, And day is shadowed by the night, And Sin, the tyrant, is not slain, And Justice staggers in the fight. Oh, Father ! come Thyself and reign. Are we not ' precious in Thy sight ' ? Sin, sorrow, suff'ring, greed and lust Enthral Thy creatures. Oh, unbind The paits of Thy Eternal Mind, Called human souls, for Thou art just And we are struggling through the dust In search of Thee. Ah ! we are blind. Yea, blind j the wisest and the best. The pioneers who boldly march In front, ahead of all the rest, With Reason's torch to light the arch, Must halt and tremble in the race, Amazed in wonderment and awe, Yet bowing to Thy will and law, Whilst weeping for the human race. Ay, weeping as our Christ hath wept Of yore in sad Gethsemane, When Justice, Truth, and Reason slept, And men refused to hear and see The Word Incarnate, that should be The Eaw below, the Light above, The Talisman of angels— Love." " Away, away," the voice replied, "Thou art not worthy to be known of the Maori and Jlloa. 83 In our bright realms ; thy puny pride Would make God live for Earth alone. Enough for thee that Christ hath died, Yet lives and moves, evolving still The God-force that remains in man ; He is and was, since time began, The Good that triumphs over ill — The Royal Keystone of the span That bridges the Eternal Will. His reign shall be made manifest When words are fashion'd into deeds ; And all your petty jarring creeds Shall merge in ' one harmonious whole ; ' When each and every human soul Has reached the standard of His test ; When Justice shall assert its migh t, And every wrong shall blend in right." My dream was ended. And I stood Alone among the white-tipp'd broom, And down the vale the evening's gloom Came floating on a dying flood Of sunset glories, and the boom Of ocean followed from afar With music solemn, sad, and strange, And night crept o'er the rugged range, And mellow'd clown each golden bar Of blazing gorse that ribb'd the green ; I turned and left the evening star To sentinel the lovely scene. f 2 8/j. Lays of the Land SLEEPING ALONE. Sleeping alone in the wild, wild bush, Where the wattles stoop, And their ringlets droop, When Spring glides in with her healthy flush, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone in the quiet glade, Where the timid sheep From the red sun creep To hang their heads in the leafy shade, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone where the parrots fly, To pipe their lays On the sultry days — When hot winds sweep o'er the mountains high, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone where the Morepork's call At night is heard With echoes weird, When Luna peeps through the gum-trees tall, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone 'neath the unfenced mound, No kindred bones Nor niem'ry stones, In Nature's lonely burying-ground, Sleeping alone. of the Maori and Moa. 85 Sleeping alone where but few have trod, Till the last bell tolls And the unjudged souls Bring up their clay to the throne of God, Sleeping alone. S6 Lays of the Laud A WINTER LYRIC. Come harp of mine And let's entwine A love-wreath round thy chords so light ; The storm-sprites rave O'er vault and grave, The elements are drunk to-night ; Behold the Lord's Red flaming swords Flash scabbardless across the clouds, And from the deep The sea-ghosts leap Along the beach in snowy shrouds ; Then sing with me A song of glee, My soul is filled with wildest mirth ; 'Tis just the time To chant and chime The praise of our old Mother Earth. Faithful harp, I feel thy strings Trembling as my fingers play, And the wailing wind that sings Through the crannies joins our lay; of the Maori and Moa. 87 And methinks weird sprites on wings Hover round the house, and say : " Death alone affection brings — True love lives in clay to clay."' Loving harp ! the truth is told, Mother Earth is true and tried. In her bosom's faithful fold Slumber soundly, side by side, Peer and peasant, young and old, Slaves of poverty and pride. Ah ! her heart is true as gold, And her love is deep and wide. Harp of mine ! again, again Warm pulsations fondly stray O'er thy chords — whilst wind and rain 'Gainst the windows sing and say : " Woman's heart is false and vain, Lovers' vows are light as spray, Faithless maid and foolish swain, True love lives in clay to clay." Then sing with me, Right merrily, The praises of our Mother kind ; Her heart is pure, Her love is sure, To all our faults and follies blind. 88 Lays of the Land She gives us rest Upon her breast, And these poor mortal shells of ours She purifies, And we arise To live again in buds and flowers. Then sing with me A song of glee, My soul is filled with wildest mirth ; Tis just the time To chant and chime The praise of our old Mother Earth. of the Maori and Moa. 89 DE PROFUNDIS. " Is it good unto Thee that Thou shouldest oppress, that Thou shouldest despise the work of Thine hands, and shine upcn the counsel of the wicked ? " — Job x. 3. Why are Thy people crushed, Lord ? Why do Thy children moan ? Thou art omnipotent, O Lord, And they are Thine own, Thine own. Ever and ever the millions cry : " Father, we suffer, and know not why, Born to struggle, and then to die, Why is the seed thus sown ? " Here on the earth to-day, O Lord, Millions are slaves of pain ; Sin and sorrow are here, O Lord, And hunger, and serfdom's chain. Ever and ever the millions say : " Father, to Thee we kneel and pray, 'Twas ever thus, as 'tis to-day, When shall we reap the grain ? " Tyrants rule upon high, O Lord, And knaves possess the land ; Greedy robbers hold sway, O Lord ; Why dost Thou stay Thine hand ? 90 Lays of the Land Back on the shores that are far behind, Trance of reason and sleep of mind Dwarf Thy people ; they still are blind. Father, they cannot stand. We who are here on the heights, O Lord, Free in Thy fuller light, Wonder why nations are plunged, Lord, Down in oppression's night, Back in the lands where Wrong is rife, Back on the shores where war and strife Are ever making a Hell of life. Where is the reign of Right ? Souls are sighing for peace, O Lord ; Hearts are lifted to Thee ; Wails for mercy to Thee, O Lord, With many a plaint and plea, Out of the depths and darkness go : " Father, O Father, we nothing know ; Open Thy children's eyes below, As yet they cannot see." of the Maori and Moa. 91 PAX VOBISCUM. In a forest, far away, One small creeklet, day by day, Murmurs only this sad lay : " Peace be with thee, Lilian." One old box-tree bends his head, One broad wattle shades her bed, One lone magpie mourns the dead : "Peace be with thee, Lilian." Echoes come on every breeze, Sighing through the ancient trees, Whisp'ring in their melodies : " Peace be with thee, Lilian, - ' Mellow sunbeams, morn and eve, Quick to come and slow to leave, Kiss the quilt where daisies weave Rich designs o'er Lilian. When the dying blossoms cling To the skirts of parting Spring, Wattle-boughs and branches fling Showers of gold o'er Lilian. When the Summer moon mounts high, Queen of all the speckless sky, Shafts of silver softly lie O'er the grave of Lilian. 92 Lays of the Land Mystic midnight voices melt Through each leafy bower and belt, Round the spot where friends have knelt— " Peace be with thee, Lilian." Far away from town and tower, Sleeping in a leafy bower, Withered lies the forest flower — " Peace be with thee, Lilian." There, where passions ne'er intrude. There, where Nature has imbued With her sweets the solitude, Rests the form of Lilian. Dear old forest o'er the sea, Home of Nature's euphony, Pour thy requiem psalmody O'er the grave of Lilian. Guard that daisy-quilted sod : Thou hast there no common clod; Keep her ashes safe ; for God Makes but few like Lilian. Sceptics ask me : " Is that clay In the forest far away Part of her?" — I only say : " Flow'rets breathe out Lilian ; " From her grave their sweets mount high- Love and beauty never die — Sun and stars, earth, sea and sky All partake of Lilian." of the Maori and Moa. 93 LEAH. Free at last from the gloom that clouded Life and love in thy sinking day ; Thy brow is veil'd, thy fair limbs shrouded, Clay is married again to clay. Free at last from the curse of beauty, Free at last from the weeds that grow Round the buds on the path of duty, When genius walks ; 'tis better so — Better so, when the world grows dreary ; Better so, when young hopes have fled ; Better so, when the heart grows weary — Better living among the dead. Living among the dead — I've said it — Some may rot, and yet some shall rise Out of the grave ; then who shall dread it ? 'Tis but the soulless clod that dies. Strangers smoothed thy raven tresses Over thy marble brow, my girl ; Closed thy lips with no fond caresses, Closed them over the rows of pearl. Strangers seal'd up those orbs whose flashes Kindled often a quenchless spark ; Seal'd them under their long dark lashes, Cover'd thy face — and then all was dark. 94 Lays of the Land " Earth to earth ! " and the clay was scatter'd, Scatter'd over thy peaceful breast ; " Dust to dust ! " and it little matter'd— Only a woman had gone to rest. What knew they of the passions tameless ? They but planted another clod ; " Let her sleep, though she was not blameless, Give her soul to her Father — God. " He is merciful, good and gracious ; He can raise up the weak and low ; In the halls of His mansions spacious Scarlet sins are made white as snow." Softly spoken the words, and kindly — Freezing natures that have not known Scorching rays can but measure blindly Any heat that is not their own. Night steals on, and the leaflets tremble Up on the boughs of tall dark trees ; Night steals on, and the ghosts assemble Out on the skirts of sighing seas. Nisht steals on, and the shadows hover Round the couch of the dying day ; Night steals on, and my song is over, All its music has died away — Died away on the waves that sever Past from present, and shore from shore ; Melting into the great " for ever " — Gone to her who has gone before. of the Maori and Moa. 95 MEMORIA IN ETERNA. Still she lives in her picture there, Memoria in eterna ; Lips so ruddy and brow so fair, Memoria in eterna ; Cheeks with tint of the roses red, Swan-like neck and majestic head, Her spirit's there, — she is not dead, Memoria in eterna. Violet eyes and golden hair, Memoria in eterna ; Gazing still with her queenly air, Memoria in eterna ; Into memory's soul she peers, Lighting up all the vanished years, Joys and sorrows and smiles and tears, Memoria in eterna. Call ye the canvas lifeless ? — No — Memoria in eterna ; Her face is there with a deathless glow, Memoria in eterna : Glorious art, 'twas God that gave The painter's palette and brush to save Faces of fond ones from the grave, Memoria in eterna. g6 L ays of the Land AMONG THE BUDS. Oh ! leave the buds alone, Baby, Leave the buds alone ; Each little flow'ret has a heart As pure as is thine own. That violet, My pretty pet, Hath borrowed from the skies Its deepest blue, — The same bright hue That sparkles in thine eyes ; And, just like thee, In purity And beauty it hath grown ; Then leave the buds alone, Baby, Leave the buds alone. Oh ! leave the buds alone ; Baby, Leave the buds alone ; Those little blossoms are the gems That stud the garden's zone. of the Maori and Moa. 97 From bell and cup The sun-sprites sup The nectar and the dew ; Each morn they drink From rose and pink Sweet Nature's freshest " brew " Of God's own brand ; — ■ Thy tiny hand To playfulness is prone, But do not break the cups, Baby, Leave the buds alone. Oh ! leave the buds alone, Baby, Leave the buds alone ; They are thy younger sisters, and. Like thee, they have but known The sweets of Spring, When everything Evolves God's purest breath ; They have no fear For Autumn's sere, Nor Winter's tint of death ; Affinity Links them and thee To heaven's eternal throne. Ye are the stainless ones, Bab\-, Leave the buds alone. G 98 Lays of the Laud THE WATERFALL. Nichol's Creek. Along the wooded glen to where the creek Brings down the mountain's music to the plains, I come to hear a sermon and a song From Nature's tuneful throat, which ever tells God's living truths to mortals who have ears To drink the sacred sounds. Above my head Umbrageous plants in wild luxuriance grow On either side, and stretch across the gorge To tie the hills in leafy knots of love. Through foliage thick, of varied- tinted green, Rich-feathered foresters, in wildest glee, Chirp, trill, and twitter. Ferns of every shade, 'Broider'd and scollop'd 'yond the power of art, In tens of thousands deck the rocky walls That hold the mountains back against the sky, And give the fluent stream an open course To bring its sweetness to the lands below. And now, with admiration, I behold A shower of molten silver falling down An em'rald moss-clad precipice of rock, That stands a buttress to the central steep \\ 'here range links range in strong volcanic chain, Forged in the olden times ; and as I gaze of the Maori and Moa. 99 Up through the argent spray-mist and the leaves My spirit listens to the cascade's song : " Falling, falling, Streaming, teeming, I am the child of the sun and the snow ; Falling, falling, Ocean is calling, Rolling along to its bosom I go. " A white virgin up on the hill-tops was dreaming, A golden-haired kin«r saw the couch where she lay ; Her heart melted soon when his bright eye was beaming ; She gave me to him, but I've wandered away. Gliding, hiding, Springing, singing, I am the child of the sun and the snow ; Falling, falling, Ocean is calling, Rolling along to its bosom I go. " I am the offspring of brightness and purity, Of chastity cold, and of passionate love ; Whirling along to the depths of futurity, And bearing God's messages down from above. Glancing, dancing, Sweeping, leaping, I am the child of the sun and the snow ; Falling, falling, Ocean is calling, Rolling along to its bosom I go. G 2 ioo Lays of the Land REQUIESCAT. August ist, iSSo. The city nestles by the bay, Reposing in her Sabbath sleep ; The people dream of God, and pray, For 'tis the Spirit's special day, And peace lies over land and deep. The hills are flashing, fresh and bright, Beneath the sun of early spring, The green turns yellow, pink, and white, And through the ferns, with new delight, The birds and brooklets gaily sing. The silent, glassy sheet below Shows every hill its face and form, And ocean, with its skirts of snow, Steals up the beach, and murmurs low A dream-song of the sleeping storm. Edina of the South ! I stand, Entranced by harmonies that melt In euphony sublime and grand, And watch the sweep of sea and land That girds thee in a lovely belt. of the Maori and Moa. i o i And as I gaze o'er land and sea My thoughts swell through the wide expanse ; I map a future out for thee, Fair city, and thy great "To be " Lives in a swift prophetic glance. I see the stately vessels ride At anchor on the placid sheet Of land locked waves ; from far and wide They bring across Pacific's tide The wealth of nations to thy feet. Enriched with all the pride of Art I see thee in thy future dress ; I hear from mansion and from mart The cheerful hum of progress start, As onward still thy children press. Again, I see thee in the hush Of Sabbath calm, and hear the swell Of Nature's psalms through tree and bush, From tui, blackbird, finch and thrush, And brooklet rippling down the dell. Thy glory is not yet, but still The seed of greatness here is sown ; Thy beauties all my senses fill To rich repletion ; on this hill I feel a king upon his throne, O, tranquil calm ! exalting rest ! The storm in season due shall rave, But yet 'tis wise to make the best Of sunbeams while they last ; we're blest While peace keeps watch o'er passion's grave. 102 Lays of the Land On days, like this, when buds have birth, Our souls instinctively arise From all the petty cares of earth, And on the airy wings of mirth Soar Godward through the sapphire skies. of the Maori and Moa. 103 AT SUNSET. Out on the beach when night was creeping- Robed in shadows— across the dome, We watched the waves as, shoreward leaping, . They fringed the sands with streaks of foam. Ocean's heart, with its ceaseless throbbing, Beat 'gainst billows that rose and fell ; Sometimes singing, and sometimes sobbing, Sea-ghosts came on each foamy swell. I stood dreaming of some old story, Picturing forms on each white crest, 'Tranced in thought, till a flash of glory Limn'd the skirts of the distant west. " Look ! " you cried, and we gazed, in wonder, Over the deep where sea and sky Met and kissed, as the sun danced under Beams of gold in the archway high. Oh ! the splendour that tipp'd the mountains ; Oh ! the beauty that rimm'd the lea ; Streams of brilliants, from rainbow fountains, Sparkling fell on the purple sea. Calmness stole o'er the deep, and lowly Whispers floated upon the breeze : " Hail to Thee, Holy, holy, holy ! Painter of shores and skies and seas ! ' 104 Lays of the Land Not by us were the pure words spoken ; Not by us were the pure words said ; We were mute till the spell was broken ; We but gazed at the Heaven ahead. Gazed, and worshipped, and prayed, and wondered If that glory would gild the way When life's sun sets, and friends arc sunder'd, And spirits 'scape from their shells of clay of the Maori and Moa. 105 LONGFELLOW. The minstrel's voice is songless now, Death's stamp is on that honour'd brow ; No dirge for him, no sigh nor tear : We'll shout above the poet's bier — Excelsior ! He swept his harp-strings clear and strong Till trees became alive with song, And every trembling leaflet stirred To music at his magic word — Excelsior ! He touched a chord, and on the scene Appeared the fair Evangeline In Norman cap and girtle blue, Acadie's virgin pure and true — ■ Excelsior ! He peopled Strasburg's lofty spire With spirits from the realms of fire, Then put a soul in every bell To triumph o'er the powers of hell- Excelsior ! Across the harp his fingers ran, And Plymouth's martial Puritan Stepp'd into life, and madly strove With Alden in the game of love — Excelsior ! 1 06 L ays of the L and He struck out, as he passed along, From sledge and anvil sparks of song, Until the forge 'neath chestnut-tree Was filled with manly minstrelsy — Excelsior ! He gathered from the Northland plains Old echoes wild of Indian strains ; He beautified the songs of yore, Then gave them to the woods once more- Excelsior ! He gave new music to each rill, He clothed the prairie and the hill With rich romance ; each forest pine Shook with new melody divine — Excelsior ! A grand old bard, with spotless page, An honour to his land and age, Full ripe for Heav'n, has passed away; And Nature sings above his clay — Excelsior ! of the Maori and Jlfoa. 107 THE OTHER SIDE. As we watch the deep grey shadows Stealing upwards from the west, When the flow'rets in the meadows Lock their pearls and go to rest, Soaring far beyond the real, Oft we view on fancy's tide Phantom crews, in boats ideal, Sailing from the other side. When the midnight gusts are sighing — Sighing through the saplings tall, Tapers dim, and embers dying, Taint weird shadows on the wall, Treasured forms start up before us, Softly through the room they glide, And we hear, in loving chorus, Voices from the other side. Who shall say, in vile decision, "There is nought but clod to clod?" Slavelings of a stunted vision, Ye cannot discover God. Fenced within your narrGw hedges, Truth ye have not yet descried — Ye have no immortal pledges Coming from the other side io8 Lays of the Land NOT UNDERSTOOD. Not understood. We move along asunder. Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years ; we marvel and we wonder Why life is life? and then we fall asleep, Not understood. Not understood. We gather false impressions, And hug them closer as the years go by, Till virtues often seem to us transgressions ; And thus men rise and fall, and live and die, Not understood. Not understood. Poor souls with stunted vision Oft measure giants by their narrow gauge ; The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision Ave oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age, Not understood. Not understood. The secret springs of action, Which lie beneath the surface and the show, Are disregarded ; with self-satisfaction We judge our neighbours, and they often go, Not understood. Not understood. How trifles often change us ! The thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight Destroy long years of friendship and estrange us, And on our souls there falls a freezing blight; Not understood. of the Maori and Moa. 109 Not understood. How many breasts are aching For lack of sympathy ! Ah ! day by day, How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking ! How many noble spirits pass away Not understood; Ob, God ! that men would see a little clearer, Or judge less harshly where they cannot sec ; Ob, God ! that men would draw a little nearer To one another, they'd be nearer Thee, Not understood. 1 1 o L ays of the L and GOOD NIGHT TO BABY. Where is Babe, to-night ? I miss her — Where is little Bright Eyes? bless her ! Bend above her cot an el kiss her, Say " good night " to Baby. Say "good night," though she be sleeping, List'ning cherubs will be peeping Through God's windows, fondly keeping Loving watch o'er Baby. They will catch the words with pleasure, Floating downwards through the azure ; They will cluster round your treasure, Whisp'ring them to Baby. They will tell her many a story Of their Golden City's glory- Wiser than her grandsire hoary, Happy little Baby ! Purer sight to her is given, All the star-nail'd gates are riven, Opening up a view of heaven In her dreams to Baby. of the Maori and Moa. 1 1 1 AWAY WITH REGRET. To W. E. Away with regret ! though some words lightly spoken Were echoes of hopes which we cannot recall ; The lily will bloom, though a petal be broken ; The rose does not droop, though a leaflet may fall ; The sun that illumined love's dreamings ideal, At eve, 'neath a shroud of despair may have set, But morning will bring him in majesty real, To melt with his rays all the clouds of regret. Away with regret, and away with dejection ! Though withered are some of the young buds of love, Bright flow'rets of far more enduring affection Will blossom when Spring brings new notes to the dove ; The seedlings we cast on a cold soil may perish ; We lose them, but still it is foolish to fret. The next time we sow, let fertility cherish The hearts-ease we prize— then away with regret ! Away with regret ! when the heart lies in fallow, Tis but a coarse weed that spreads over the ground ; It only takes root where the surface is shallow, And dies when the summer of love comes around. 'Tis vain to look back, for the past we can't alter ; The future remains in our own keeping yet ; Hope's goal is before us, and why should we falter ? We're marching to God — then away with regret ! 1 1 2 Lays of the Land GEORGE ELIOT. Another leader lost ! Thus speaks the wire— The wire that whispers softly 'neath the wave. Another teacher gone ; the golden lyre, Whose every string was fraught with sacred fire, Lies silent now beside a new-made grave. Another leader lost ! The message sped From England's chalky cliffs to every shore Where mind is fetterless, and men have read The bright and tuneful thoughts of her who led The league of light, of letters, and of lore. Another leader lost ! The magic hand That shaped the offspring of the quick ning brain Is pulseless now, and all the perfect band Of her sublime creations mourning stand Around the tomb— she's gone, but they remain. Another leader lost ! The wealth of mind And affluence of genius that illumined Our later times have left their source behind ; The strongest, yet the sweetest, of her kind Is but a name— the rest has been entombed. \nother leader lost ! Trust not the cry ; The whisp'ring wire can tell us no such tale ; It speaks but of the casket,— let it lie, That which it held within can never die, For Truth is clothed in eternal mail. of the Maori and Moa. \ \ 3 MRS. GEORGE DARRELL. "At once, good-night." Oh ! how the old time gleams Bright through the vista of the vanished years ; Again I wander among fading dreams — Proud Cawdor's wife dismisses Scotland's peers. " Mine eyes grow dim, farewell ! " Sweet Queen, good-bye ! A nobler seat is thine than Harry's throne; Our greatest Wolsey is with thee on high, Poor Brooke is there, and thou art not alone. ''Farewell ! God knows when we shall meet again." Ay, Juliet, God knows when we shall meet. God knows ! God knows ! 'tis still the sad refrain To which the human heart-throbs ever beat. " 'Tis but one cast away, and so — Come death." Not cast away, fair Rosalind, but blest With richer garlands than Orlando's wreath, Among the groves of everlasting rest. " So speaking as I think, alas ! I die — " Again we hear the plaudits — cheer on cheer; " Bravo, Emilia ! " is the shout and cry, Whilst gentle eyes are filled with many a tear. H 1 14 Lays of the Land " Sweets to the sweet " — ay, strew the flow'rets o'er Her royal mantle ; — it has changed to green. Hamlet, thy mother is, alas ! no more ; 'Tis not Ophelia sleeps, but Denmark's Queen. " Sir, grieve not you." Nay, Portia, I but pay The debt which I, and tens of thousands, owe To Art and thee ; above thy sacred clay I weave a garland for the long ago. The brave old long ago, that free old time, When manly hearts were often cheered by thee, When Austral revelled in her golden prime, And nursed Thalia and Melpomene. Old forms arise — Brooke, Lambert, Rogers, Heir, And others who have answered to the Call ; They're at the Treasury— thou'rt with them there ; Turn down the footlights — let the curtain fall. of the Maori and Moa. 1 1 5 KAITANGATA. On the 21st of February, 1879, a colliery explosion took place at the Kaitangata Mines, by which thirty lives were sacrificed. The touch of God is on the chord which runs Through all humanity, from heart to heart ; The Hand Divine, that holds the stars and suns, Strikes on love's string, and inner voices start, Proclaiming we are each of each a part. The Priest of Nature may expound this truth : Afflictions are but solemn lessons read To mortals ; Science still is in her youth — The living gain their knowledge through the dead ; All human suff'ring points the road ahead. It may be so ; anon we'll learn that text, But now the widows' and the orphans' eyes Are following from this life to the next Loved spirits torn away from dearest ties, And God to us is speaking through their cries. He calls on us to succour those in need ; We're bound together in a common bond. Faith's purest action is a noble deed ; Hope's truest anchor is a helping hand ; Love is the key that opes the doors beyond. h 2 1 1 6 Lays of the Land A few short days ago, and those who rest Held this poor lease of earth which now we hold ; The pulse of life beat strongly in each breast — Ah ! 'tis the same old story often told, We know not when the spark may leave the mould. Oh ! brothers, there are weary hearts to-day, And cheerless homes, where sorrow sits in gloom; And lonely weeping ones, who can but pray, " Thy will be done," whilst bowing to their doom, And longing for the meeting 'yond the tomb. Not ours to change the mystic second-birth. Not ours to bring the loved ones back again, But ours to do our duty upon earth, By succouring the mourners who remain ; To them we're linked in sympathetic chain. To-day Humanity's resistless breath Sweeps through the credal barriers, and brings Us all together to the Church of Death — The common fold of toilers and of kings ; And Charity broods o'er with outstretched wings. To-day the pure Christ-Spirit from above With warm vibration thrills through every soul ; To-day we owe a sacred debt to Love ; To-day our Father claims a special toll At gates which lead to Hope's eternal goal. of tJtc Maori and Moa. 1 1 J THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. Three half-score years ago, — no more, — Since Godley stood upon the shore, A leader of the Pilgrims bold, Who framed the New upon the Old, And stamp'd the Old upon the New, 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. Three half-sccre years — and can this be ? 'Tis but a ripple on the sea Of Time ; — Oh ! what a wondrous change, Since o'er the ridge of yonder range Hope led the Pilgrims, firm and true, 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. They saw, from yonder mountain's brow, Plains yearning for the spade and plough; And where the naked rivers ran, Vales waiting to be dressed by man ; Their help all Nature seemed to woo, 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. They gave the breeze that fann'd the foam Sweet farewell sighs to carry Home; — But though old Albion was dear, They saw a fairer England here Awaiting them, the dauntless few, 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. 1 1 8 Lays of the Land Behold their work ! Revere their names ! Green pictures set in golden frames, Around the City of the Stream, Fulfil the Pilgrims' brightest dream ; With them a fairer England grew 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. of the Maori and Moa. 1 19 ADDRESS. Spoken by the Author at the opening of the Dune din Exhibition, f une Sth, 1SS1. Three pictures are presented here to-day. Behold the first : Wild terraces that reach From silent hills to where the shipless bay Is sadly sobbing 'gainst the lonely beach, Like some young, restless maid, who sings and sighs In solitude, neglected and alone, With none to praise her beauty — none to prize Her wasted charms — all lovely, yet unknown. Bold headlands robed in russet and in green, And sleeping woodlands stretching far and wide, To where the distant mountains guard the scene — Proud sentries standing up in Alpine pride Above the virgin valleys, where the boom Of Ocean floats and melts and dies away In deep ravines where solitude and gloom Weave misty ghosts that climb tall summits grey. Oh, noble prospect ! rich romantic land, Awake ! awake ! thou canst no longer sleep ; Thy praise is heard afar ; a sturdy band Of Scottish pilgrims cross the restless deep To claim thee as their own. Look ! on the sea Their snowy sails are dancing in the sun ; They reach the shore— thank God, for them and thee, The building of a nation has begun. 120 Lays of the Laud Another picture and another day — A busy, bustling town, with straggling streets; Craft follows craft upon the cheerful bay, And through the land the pulse of Progress beats ; Revealed are all the secrets of the soil, The golden tidings fly from shore to shore ; Earth yields her treasures to the touch of Toil, And tens of thousands seek the precious ore. The New Edina, filled with fresher life, Shakes off the calm that wrapped her in its fold. Her fame is told afar— to Fortune's strife Bold hearts are summon'd by the cry of " gold." They come, they come, the rough but gen'rous throng, Bearded and brown, from Austral's sunny coast ; They come with gladsome shout and joyous song, They come a stalwart, free-and-easy host ; From every clime, of every race, are they, Not faultless all, but in the main still true ; No warmer hearts e'er dwelt in human clay Than beat beneath those shirts of red and blue. Otago never, never should forget The men who gave to her the golden years That spurred her on ; we all still owe a debt To those brave hearts— the Golden Pioneers. And now the grandest picture of the three Presents itself — a queen, by Nature crowned, Sits here enthroned in wealth. When from the sea The pilgrim pioneers first gazed around The bold wild coast, they little dreamed that there On that lone shore a city should arise of the Maori and Mo a. 1 2 1 In thirty years ; that palaces should rear Their heads as monuments of enterprise. They little dreamed that Commerce should unfold Her richest stores ; that Industry should pour Her choicest blessings, and that Art should mould Majestic piles along that silent shore. They little dreamed that three-and-thirty years Could show such triumphs of the mind and hand As we behold to-day. Among her peers Our own Dunedin takes a foremost stand. To-day she glories in her craftsmen's skill ; To-day she spreads her treasures in this mart ; Her grand achievements ©f the human will ; Her rare results of science and of art ; Her emulative trophies of design ; Her vict'ries of the clear inventive brain ; She spreads to-day the wealth of mill and mine ; The fruitage of the valley and the plain Are garner'd and displayed ; Progression's voice Swells seaward, singing our Dunedin's fame ; And all Zealandia's sea-girt shores rejoice, And echo back the chorus of acclaim. Oh, magic transformation ! wondrous change ! Oh, graceful City by the placid bay ! Thought sweeps along advancement's highest range, And finds no brighter vantage-ground to-day Than this fair scene. Oh, may the Power that sways The suns and stars— the Power which makes for right- Bless this fair land of ours, and shed the rays Of truth and justice from the fount of light ! 122 Lays of the Land May Peace proclaim her triumphs year by year, With heart and hand, with voice, with brain, with pen ; May Plenty find a home for ever here ; May unity prevail ! Amen. Amen. of the Maori and Moa. 1 2 ■ ADDRESS. Spoken by the Author at an Entertainment given at the Princess Theatre, Dunedin, on November 12th, 1 88 1, in aid of the persecuted fews in Russia. " Why standest Thou afar ? Why hidest Thou Thyself in times of trouble?" Such the cry That from the Royal Psalmist rose ; and now A sadder wail ascends to God on high : " Give ear, O Shepherd ! " Israel is oppressed ; "The wicked in his pride doth persecute." Jehovah, hear Thy children ! give them rest. They are Thine own, and Thou art absolute. And is that prayer unheeded or unheard? Nay, God responds and speaks through human hearts, Till warm emotions into life are stirred, And all man's higher, purer nature starts In vital sympathy with those who plead For justice and assistance in distress ; And we are here to help them in their need, To send them speedy succour and redress. And who are they that cry aloud for aid ? Are they a remnant of some savage race Whose petty annals live a day, then fade From time's great record, leaving not a trace 124 Lays of tlie Land Of fame or glory, honour or renown, For bards to chronicle and sing of? Nay ! The men who cry for help have carried down The lamp of knowledge from die gates of day ; They are the scions of a race that stood As giants on the earth ere Rome was known ; A race whose annals bridge the mighty Flood ; A race whose first great King was God alone ; A race that flourished ere the Grecian sage Marshall'd his heroes on the Trojan plain ; A race whose glories fill each glowing page Of that old Book which tells us of the reign Of great Jehovah ; that old Book which cheers The vanguard of the world to-day, and brings Bright dreams of joy to peasants and to peers ; The Book in which the proudest of the kings Pours out his pearls of wisdom, pure and fair ; The Book in which the Royal Minstrel's lays Are treasured still ; the Book whose teachings rare Have guided Israel through the thorny ways Of dark oppression. Oh ! what deathless fame Is theirs!— the race of noble men who've sprung From him — the Shepherd Patriarch, who came To Moreh's Plains when this old Earth was young. Our heroes are of yesterday, but they Are linked in one grand chain to him who trod — Midst fire and thunder— upon Mount Sinai, And held communion there with Jacob's God. Imperial Rome and philosophic Greece Have fallen, nevermore to rise again ; No longer Persia holds of power a lease ; Vet Israel's ancient landmarks still remain. of the Maori and Moa. 1 2 5 Back, Slavic serfs ! fall back and hide for shame; The people ye pursue, with bigot spleen, Are sons and daughters of a race whose name Spread o'er the earth ere yet the savage scene Sent forth its barb'rous tribes and mongrel hordes To prowl along the Dnieper and the Don ; Ere Slavic necks bowed down 'neath Norman swords, Their fathers worshipped God in Lebanon. Back, bigots, back ! 'tis freemen's voices ring Across the ocean from this fair young land, Where Jew and Gentile join, and closely cling Fraternally in one united band. Tonight we meet to show, by loving deeds, Our heartfelt sympathy with those who feel Oppression's pangs, to min'ster to the needs Of those who gave us Him whose common seal Is Charity. For His dear sake alone We have a debt of gratitude to pay To those who gave us One whose priceless throne Is centred in the hearts of men to-day. 126 La) 's of the L a n d ADDRESS. Spoken by the Author at the opening of the Oam ant Theatre, Mare// 16th, 1883. Welcome, Thalia and Melpomene, Unto this fair White City by the sea ! Behold ! Apollo here has found a shrine Where his companions — all the Sacred Nine — May revel in harmonious glee, and bring Fresh draughts of joy from the Castalian Spring To cheer poor mortals at the close of day. Henceforth this temple owns the Muses' sway. Thalia here with boundless fancy free Shall conquer care and grief, and bring us glee ; Melpomene shall tell her tragic tale Till eyes are dimm'dwith tears, and cheeks turn pale. Terpsichore here shall rule the merry dance, Euterpe's power all spirits shall entrance With Lyric numbers— solemn, sweet or sad — And joyous notes and chords that make men glad ; All forces which have power to touch the heart Shall consecrate this edifice to Art. Oft-times the Muses, sailing on the wind, Swept by — they here no halting-place could find. And Mother Ocean, with reproachful song, Murmured her solemn plaints the whole night long. Ah ! well might Ocean wail ; in days of yore She smiling listened by the Grecian shore of the Maori and Moa. 1 27 Unto the echoes of the Sacred Mount, Which melted on her breast from many a fount ; In days of old her far-off sunny seas Were fann'd to music by the Thracian breeze ; Ay, this old Ocean, whose eternal voice Falls on the ear to-night and sings " Rejoice ! " Sang lullabvs beside the cradle where The infant Drama breathed the classic air Of fair young Greece, when Thespis on his stage Depicted all the colours of his age, And held " the mirror up " that man might trace The virtues, vices, follies of his race ; This same old Ocean, sweeping up yon strand, Skirted the chalky cliffs of Britain's land, And leapt with joy when Father Thames rolled down. And told bright tales of Shakespeare's high renown. Perchance it may be urged — " Pacific deep Knows not the sounds of those wild waves that leap 'Gainst coasts afar; she never heard the strain Of sweet Euterpe, — 'twas the classic main That drank Olympian euphony, and felt The wealth of Shakespeare on her bosom melt ; This is an ocean of to-day." Not so ! The voice we hear to-night, long, long ago, Was listened to by giants of our race, Whose names are blazoned on our planet's face In golden letters. Oceans, seas, and bays May spread and wander wide by many ways, But still one mighty pulse through every part Throbs from the core of one eternal heart ; Each land gives to the flood its own free breeze. But one great voice is heard through all the seas. 128 Lays of the Land This ocean which we hear along the beach Has chains of memory that stretch and reach Through all the ages far beyond the birth Of him who first stood God-like on the earth : She chanted Nature's psalms ere Hebrew priest Worshipp'd Jehovah in the golden East ; Her swelling voice was musical and great When men were few and lands were desolate : She saw imperial nations come and go In ages past, like her own ebb and flow ; She swallowed lands and cities in her time, And gave to earth, instead, full many a clime That slept within her womb. With joy and pride She saw this land emerging from the tide, And when the sun first kissed yon hills, she smiled And clasped with snowy arms her fairest child ; Upon her heaving breast she proudly bore Tall ships with freights of free men to this shore ; She saw, around our coast, young cities spring ; She saw, with joy, the distant nations bring Their riches here ; she saw proud temples start Where Mother Nature clasped her daughter Art ; She saw the spreading plains flush deep with corn That shook its golden tassels to the morn. Upon this beach she mourn'd awhile, 'tis true, When Art was homeless here in Oamaru. That time is past ; she leaps with joy to find This noble triumph of the hand and mind Erected here in honour of the Nine Who sang of yore upon the Hill Divine. of the Maori and Moa. 1 29 THE TLMARU WRECKS. [An address delivered by the author in the Theatre Ro; Wellington, on the occasion of a performance given for the benefit of the sufferers by the disaster at Timaru, in Mav, 1882.] Who are Earth's heroes ? Who are they that claim A shrine immortal in their country's breast, A niche within the citadel of fame, Or, higher still, a home among the blest ? One answers : " They are those who in the fight Win heav'n's approval and the world's applause; The men who die for justice and for right — • The men who bleed for freedom's holy cause." Another answers : " Heroes lead the van Of Peace and Progress in the march of mind, And spread God's treasures at the feet of man, And shed the rays of knowledge o'er their kind." Ay, these and those are heroes, true and brave, Whose deeds and words are treasured fond and fast — Whose memories are untarnished by the grave ; Heroes who build the future on the past, And raise a stately edifice above The Gulf of Ages, filled with blood and tears, A human temple round whose shrine of love All men shall gather in the coming years. But there are other heroes on the earth — Heroes who often sow, but seldom reap 1 130 Lays of the Land The seed of glory till the Second Birth ; Heroes who often sink and fall asleep In duty's arms, unnoticed and unknown — Heroes who for their fellows nobly die, Heroes whose dirge is ocean's solemn moan, Mingled with orphan's sob and widow's sigh. Such are the heroes whom we honour here, Men who have passed on to the light beyond, And those they held in life most true and dear Appeal to us for aid — shall we respond ? What were their deeds ? We open up the scene — Behold a spreading city by the sea, Belted by sunny slopes and plains of green, And skirted by the foam of breakers free, That leap and dance for joy along the shore, Racing like white-haired children on the sand, Babbling their mother ocean's mystic lore, Whisp'ring her secrets to the silent land. A Sabbath calm is resting o'er the place, And souls are soaring upward from their clay ; Celestial smiles gild Nature's tranquil face, And Thought flies far above life's little day. Out on the sleeping waves tall vessels ride At anchor : all is calm. Ah ! will it last? " Look yonder, look ! here comes a storm-spent tide ; The murmuring fury of the distant blast Sweeps in upon us. God ! we're lost, we're lost ! The boats ! the boats ! Now pull for land and life ! " They're off! they're safe ! they land ! though billows tossed, And breakers dashed around them in the strife. of the Maori and Mo a. 1 3 1 But lo ! along the shore the cry is raised, " Man, man the life-boat ! " — and a willing band Rush forward at the call. The crowd, amazed, Behold the gallant fellows leave the land, And plunge through seething surf and furious foam. " Hurrah ! hurrah ! God speed ye, gallant hearts r " Ah ! well might they exclaim, " God speed ye home ! " God took them home : the tear of pity starts, But not for those who went, but those who weep For husbands vanished and for fathers gone ; Be ours the task to honour them that sleep, By helping those they loved, now left alone ; Be ours the task— nay, friends, 'tis not a task, It is a debt of duty we've to pay ; God speaks to us when babes and widows ask; We hear His voice in theirs, and we obey. 1 2 Lays of the Laud THE NIGHT OF THE BANQUET. IN MEMORIAM JAMES SEATON, M.H.R. 1 This is the evening of the feast, And yet the banquet-hall is dim ; None wait the coming of the guest, No friends are here to welcome him. No glowing goblets meet the eye, No sparkling vintage passes round, No glass is lifted up on high, No song is heard nor merry sound. No music save the solemn boom That swells and falls along the strand Where breakers wild leap through the gloom, Like white ghosts dancing on the sand. Let darkness reign around the hall, Let silence rest above the board ; The guest has had a sudden call Unto the Palace of the Lord. 1 Mr. James Seaton, M.H.R. for the Peninsula, was thrown from his buggy and killed a couple of days previous to a proposed banquet, which was to be tendered him by his constituents. He was buried on the 21st of November, 18S2, the day upon which the feast was to have taken place. of the Maori and Moa. 1 3 ; And who can stay to feast on earth, When Death — the messenger of God — Gives to the soul a second birth, And takes the spark from out the clod ? To-day I watched the nodding plume, To-day I walked behind a bier, And stood beside a gaping tomb-^ To-day I saw thee disappear. To-day they laid thee on the slope That smiles between the sun and sea, And as they spoke the words of hope, I felt, old friend, that thou wert free. 134 Lays of the L and SIX SONNETS. The Bird and the Idol. A simple 1. irk- -this is a fable new — That perched each morn upon a golden ray, Up where the lashes of the eye of day- Sweep all night's lesser jewels out of view ; Beheld a lovely idol's shrine, and flew Down earthwards, to that form of painted clay, And warbled there his sweetest, purest lay, Thinking his song might it with life imbue. He sang to it God's Royal Anthem — Love ; At Eden's windows he had caught the strain — His lay the soulless image could not move — His melodies were warbled all in vain ; He turned away and tried to soar above, But never reached his morning perch again. To Like some grand planet looking from its height Upon a duller orb, thy soul o'er mine Shoots forth effulgent radiance divine, And draws it up within its orbit bright. Affection's sparks, touched by its rays, ignite, And o'er the span of my existence shine, My spirit, drinking all its light from thine, Acknowledges itself thy satellite. of the Maori and Moa. 1 35 Oh ! let it bask for ever in those beams, And quaff ethereal pleasure from that spring Of ecstasy, until this life appears A treasury of bliss, till each day brings Fresh draughts of love ; and when we pass earth's years Let soul clasp soul in everlasting dreams. MORNING ABOVE DUNEDIN. God's golden limner of our planet's days, ' O'er summer's surface spreads his morning sheen, And on the trees a hundred tints of green Are shimm'ring in the dazzle of his rays ; Beneath the boughs each breeze-stirr'd shadow plays, And side by side gnarl'd forest ancients lean Their tassell'd heads together. Through the scene A lonely mountain creeklet sings and strays. Melodious trills from feather'd exiles' throats — Pure warblings of the Old Land and the New, Which silence all the tui's simpler notes — Blend in a flood of euphony, that through The groves and bowers of clust'ring foliage floats To chase the lark's sweet echoes in the blue. 136 Lays of the Land THE FIRST MATCH. Ay, 'tis the same wild flame ablaze to-day Which flash'd athwart the pristine garden's night, When angels dropp'd a spark of sacred light From heav'n's eternal lamp. The same rich ray Which, falling, blazon'd all the starry way, And strung a golden chain of planets bright Across the azure archway in its flight, Then, reaching earth, illumed the living clay. The same wild flame now permeates and glows As fresh through this old world as when it burst On Eden's fruit ; Ay, love's swift lightning goes Through flesh and blood, as hotly as when first The Prince of Darkness — Lucifer — arose And struck the first bad match, but not the worst. AMBITION, FAME, AND LOVE. The sun climbs up the mountain side at morn, To ope the lily's breast with golden key, The lark ascends with songs of wildest glee, To cheer his feathered love, when day is born ; And, like the sun, my lily I'd adorn, I'd open up the heart that's dear to me ! And, like the lark, each song should be for thee !- Ambition, of thy true affection shorn, of the Maori and Moa. 137 Holds out no prize to woo me up its height, For, after all, what is this loveless fame? A phantom bird that lures us in its flight Unto the glimmer of a transient flame, Then leaves us starless in the vacant night, Among the hollow echoes of a name. HENRY KENDALL. Fair Austral's eldest daughter veils her face, And drapes her sunny splendours in the gloom, Her first-born son of song, in manhood's bloom — The sweetest singer of her brave young race — Has joined the Dantesque shadows in the space Beyond the sapphire arch,- and o'er the tomb; He faded ere the wattle's golden plume Perfumed the sylvan scenes he loved to trace. He who had witch'd and charm'd the South'rn lute Till strains mellifluous swept o'er the land In floods of euphony ; whose soul could shoot To Nature's heart, and pluck out, at command, Her secrets and her mysteries, is mute, The harp has fallen from the Minstrel's hand. 138 Lays of tlic Land AFFINITY. Our souls are sisters ! I have felt a thrill Of wildest joy rush through my every sense, When from thy liquid orbs my soul did fill Affection's cup, and quaffing it until Intoxicated with its influence, She offered at thy shrine, heart, mind, and will, Consuming them with passion's fire intense. All souls are kindred ! each a mystic spark, Struck from life's anvil in the forge of God ; Each sets aglow its own peculiar clod, And finds a shelter in its mortal ark. But some of these are fashioned in the dark, Mis-shaped, unfinished in the gloom of night, Whilst other frames are moulded in the light, With nobler impress and with brighter mark, The Maker seems unjust in our weak sight, But He knows what is wrong and what is right. Twin sparks, our spirits had together birth — Yours tarried in the pure celestial way For years, whilst mine descended to the earth, And took upon itself its garb of clay ; Since then, yours followed from the realms of mirth To this strange world, and thus we meet to-day. Thy soul took refuge in a lovely form, My spirit found a rougher dwelling place, But still they're one, impulsive, wayward, warm, of the Maori and Moa. 1 39 Rash, wild, and generous, speaking through the face Their inmost thoughts, which, in life's mazy race, Are leaflets blown about by passion's storm, Not knowing where to rest in tranquil peace, Pursuing a chimera. * * * Souls, be calm, The by-and-by will bring a sure release ; I know not what you are, nor what I am, But in that by-and-by our doubts shall cease. 140 Lays of the Land MOTHER'S GRAVE. Up on the hill where beds are made Narrow and deep with pick and spade ; Up on the hill where death-flowers grow, Over a grave a child bent low, Picking the weeds of a new-formed plot ; Up on the hill on a Sabbath morn, (Works of mercy that day adorn), Guardian spirits around the spot. Under the sun the city basked, The sun that over the valley smiled, " Why art thou here alone?" I asked — " Why art thou here alone, my child?" Her bosom swelled with sorrow's throbs, Which burst the flood-gates of the heart ; I watched the bright drops, born of sobs, Out from the wells of her sad eyes start. ' ; Why art thou here?" again I said, " Weeping over this lonely bed? " And this was the only reply she gave, " Oh, sir, I am weeding my mother's grave." I asked no more, but turned away From girl, and stone, and mound of clay ; I asked no more, for that sentence told Of lonely hearts, and of strangers cold ; of the Maori and Jlloa. 1 4 1 And then I knelt in an old churchyard, Where one grim elm-tree stood to guard A daisy quilt and a crumbling stone, And I was a child, alone, alone ; And the wild wind moaned through the ruins old, And the clouds were black and the world was cold, And sadly I heard the weird gusts rave Through the crumbling walls near my mother's grave. Up on the hill, where beds are made Narrow and deep with pick and spade ; Up on the hill, where death-flowers grow, Over a grave a child bent low, Picking the weeds off a new-formed plot ; Up on the hill, on a Sabbath morn, (Works of mercy that day adorn), Guardian spirits around the spot. 142 Lays of the Land PASSING THROUGH THE GATE. Ten years of sorrow and of glee Have fled since first you met with me, When mother asked you home to tea : You stayed until 'twas late, Jack ; And when you wished us all " Good night," To show you out I brought the light ; You caught my hand and pressed it tight Whilst passing through the gate, Jack. You came again, and when we met, You said I was your darling pet, You praised my hair and eyes of jet, And called me " Pretty Kate," Jack ; At your approach, though Snap was dumb, The cute old 'possum on the gum Laughed loudly when he saw me come To greet you at the gate, Jack. A month had scarcely died away, When on a bright-faced summer's day, A coach and pair (the horses grey) — My heart retains the date, Jack — Drove up the lane, and stopped before The rose-bush hedge that faced our door, And two light bosoms, brimming o'er With joy, passed through the gate, Jack. And months of pleasure came and went, And each new season brought content, of the Maori and Moa. 143 Three love-gifts unto us were sent ; Our happiness was great, Jack. A manly boy, reflecting you, And Lilly, with her orbs of blue, And Kate with eyes of hazel hue — Oh, blessings on that gate, Jack. But angels sometimes leave their home, And o'er earth's lovely valleys roam In search of buds to deck the dome Above God's throne of state, Jack ; They came into our garden fair, And gathered up our flowerets rare ; Then climbing up yon starry stair, They brought them through the gate, Jack. The withered stalks fell 'neath the sod, And sorrow hung o'er our abode ; Some said it was the " will of God," And others said 'twas "fate," Jack ; And summer came, and spring went by, The world seemed blank to you and I — ■ No merry laugh, nor childish cry "Was heard about the gate, Jack. But peace to us has come again ; We're linked to them with deathless chain. Behind the sun, beyond the plain, We know for us they wait, Jack ; And when we've run this earthly race, In heaven for us they'll keep a place, Where soul to soul, and face to face, They'll meet us at the gate, Jack. 1 44 Lays of the Land LITTLE VIOLET. She met me on the garden walk, Her bright eyes filled with mirth and glee, And listening to her prattling talk, My childhood's days returned to me, "And don't you know my name? " she said " Why, no," I answered, " we've net met Before, my charming little maid f Then she replied, " I'm Violet." '•• Indeed ; well, that's a pretty name ;' I wandered back to sunnier hours, And little Violet became Far fairer than the other flowers That grew around her where she stood — Each pansy, pink, and mignonette Smiled sweetly at their sister bud, The tender little Violet. I gazed into her pure bright eyes, Where nestled childish innocence ; Then she, with look so very wise, Took me into her confidence, And told me all her griefs and joys, How babies often scream and fret, How brother robbed her of her toys, And broke the dolls of Violet. of the Maori and Moa. 145 How cherries grow upon a tree, How Grandpapa lived far away, Where big ships swim across the sea, And she was going there to stay. Youth's blossom made my heart its bower, But near it sprang the weed — regret ; I plucked the weed and kept the flower, And called it — Mem'ry's Violet. There's rapture in the blithesome time When love inhales young passion's breath — The poet's is a joy sublime, The Christian's happiness is — death. But in pure childhood's thoughtless bliss, A taste of Heaven and earth we get — More of the other life than this, Earth's angels are like Violets. 146 Lays of t/ic Land THE BROOKLET IN THE GLEN. Its mellow song The whole night long Is borne around the tranquil vale, And through the day In cheerful lay, It chants a never-ending tale, The hist'ry of its life and birth, The secrets of the valley, when From the effusive pores of earth, God called it down the glen. The tui's trill, Upon the hill, Is answered by a thousand notes, Till one grand swell From nook and dell Upon the morning sether floats ; But in a voice subdued and low, Which tells of things beyond our ken, The brooklet's gentle accents flow, Meandering down the glen. And as it flows It larger grows, Until it merges in the sea ; of the Maori and Moa . 147 And thus the boy From childish joy Runs into man's anxiety ; The fairy towers we loved to raise, Are swallowed in life's whirlpool then — There's food for thought in all thy lays, Sweet brooklet in the glen. k 2 148 Lays of the Land A PAPER FROM HOME. Alone with his dog, when the night-veil was falling, A digger sat dreaming of times that were fled. For mem'ry was painting old scenes, and recalling Dear faces and forms from the realms of the dead. His fancy renewed the old pictures long faded, The sheet in his hand seemed a leaf from life's tome, Its paragraphs bright, and its articles shaded— He smiled and he sighed o'er that paper from home. A light-hearted boy, he embraced the old people — He rushed from the school with his mates to the green : He climbed up the ivy that wrapp'd the church steeple Which stood on the hill to watch over the scene. He blew from his childish pipe fanciful bubbles ; He floated his reed on the rivulet's foam ; The mountain of hope hid the ocean of troubles, And fairies danced over that paper from home. He sat in the dell where the lilac was swinging ; The thrush and the blackbird were warbling above ; of the Maori and Moa. 1 49 A raven-haired girl to his bosom was clinging Their eyes exchanged draughts from the fountains of love — Ah ! where is the fond one who used to adore him ? A black cloud crept o'er the ethereal dome, A crystal pearl dropped on the journal before him, And down on the ground fell the paper from home. 150 Lays of the Land BUSH CHILDREN. Eyes of hazel and of blue, Raven locks and golden tresses, Lips of rosy-tinted hue Pouting for the fond caresses, Laughter filling hearts with joy, As the merry moments whirl, Father loves his manly boy, Mother dotes upon her girl. Gambolling across the glade, Sporting through the tea-tree mazes, Resting 'neath the wattle's shade, When the summer's red sun blazes ; Fondling the dear pet lamb, Patting Bob, the sleek old coley, Teasing Bill, the aged rain, Driving Redman, Sam, and Poley. Seeking for the 'possum's nest, In the wrinkled box-tree hollow ; Breaking in upon his rest, "Let him run, and Pinch will follow." Hunting for the hidden sweets Where the wild bush-bees are humming ; Listening for the cheerful bleats When the shepherd home is coming. of the Maori and Moa. 1 5 1 " Willie, give the lads a call, We must have a game at cricket ; Jack and you can stop the ball, I will stand to guard the wicket." Play your games, you merry crew, Now's the time for recreation, By-and-by there's work to do, You have yet to build a nation. 152 L ays of the Land OLD BENDIGO. Let Poley go with Redman ; mind be careful of the steer; Bring Bob and Rambler from the creek, they'll find good picking here. Just fling this she-oak on the fire; there, catch that end, now throw — This 'minds me of our maiden trip to dear old Bendigo. Old Bendigo ! the very name is treasured in my breast — Just pass the billy this way, Jack. Not boiled yet ! Well, I'm blest If that there wood will ever burn; this ironbark is slow — You knew the gully of that name on dear old Bendigo. Oh, when we camped upon the track— that damper must be done — Around the blazing log at night, what tough old yarns were spun By Sydney Ned, and Derwent Bill, and Murrum- bidgee Joe ! Where are they now ? Ah, mate, they'll drive no more to Bendigo. of the Maori and Moa. 153 I can't help laughing when I think — old mate, just pass a chew — Of that ere time when Murphy's team got bogged at Carlsruhe. Big Barney Fagan shouted — whilst the wheels were bedding low — " Faix, boys, there's some deep sinkin' on the road to Bindigo." Mount Macedon is gazing down as proudly as of old, And Alexander's lofty brow looks over fields of gold ; They never shift ; but where are all the friends we used to know On Castlemaine and Forest Creek, and dear old Bendisro? 't> v No other land has mustered such a kingly race of men As that brave golden legion on the march to fortune then ; The digger's shirt was freedom's badge : beneath it honour's glow Lit up a gen'rous, manly flame on dear old Bendigo. Old mate of mine, together we have roughed it, through the bush For twenty years, and Time begins to lay his frosting brush Upon our heads ; but in our hearts the flowers of friendship grow As fresh as when we planted them on dear old Bendigo. ' 154 Lays of the Land I sigh whene'er I think upon— Jack, pass along the grub — The music of the puddling mill, the cradle, and the tub; The hurdy-gurdies, German bands, and minstrels too — why, blow It, you've upset the tea— on dear old Bendigo. The track of life is sometimes smooth, at other times 'tis rough ; But we must take it as it comes— this beef is rayther tough — I feel a spider on my cheek — I've caught the var- mint — no ; Why, bless me! if it ain't a tear for dear old Bendigo. of the Maori and Moa. 1 5 5 SONG. Dream on, dream on, and build your magic towers, Climb to Elysium, on the mellow beams Which bind the heav'ns unto this orb of ours, When threads of gold fall down in dazzling streams, To tie the Sun to Earth with knots of flowers, When nature's breast with vernal treasure teems. Dream on, dream on, and build your castles airy, Float with the seraphs upon floods of light — Imagination is a witching fairy Whom angels send with glimpses warm and bright Of scenes to come, when this strange life shall vary, And we shall see ourselves with fuller sight. Dream on, dream on, in happy exaltation, Tis but the spirit rising o'er its clay To scan the grander pictures of creation, Hung in the light of never-ending day, Where man receives his highest education, Where love, and truth, and peace for ever stay. 156 Lays of the Land ANNIHILATION. It is not true ! Great Sire, it cannot be That this bright ray of life we call the soul — This quenchless flame of immortality, Emblazoned on Thy grand eternal scroll — Was kindled in its mortal lamp by Thee, To find within the grave its final goal. Oh ! bastard creed, conceived in vilest womb Of meanest earth, how poor thou makest man : A living atom, fattening for the tomb, And struggling to its jaws as best he can, Heir unto nothing but chaotic gloom, The puppet of a dark, designless plan. Cold, dismal science, hatched within a clod, And nursed for blank futurity, in vain Thy teachers, with their substitute for God, Proclaim that wrong shall change to right again. Why then are we the tillers of the sod ? Why do we sow if others reap the grain ? How shall the good to come repay the dead, If mind or soul embodied, really dies To live no more ? The suff'ring millions fled, With all their sorrows and with all their cries For justice, find no solace in the bed Of dreamless death, from which they may not rise. of the Maori and Moa. 157 Were death the climax, then 'twere better fate To browse the peaceful hills, a careless beast, Or nestle with some tuneful feathered mate In some green glade, nor look past Nature's feast For happiness, nor dream of future state, Than be their king— the greatest, yet the least. Shall all our dreamings of a brighter day — Shall all our longings for a purer light — Shall all our aspirations end in clay ? Shall all our hopes be plunged in endless night, And shall the soul be blind for ever? Nay ! Death cannot veil its strong celestial sight. Annihilation ! philosophic lie ! Thou canst not rob us of our rightful claim To share our Father's mansion up on high ; God is a Spirit, and from Him we came, His breath is in us, it can never die ; Emancipation is death's better name. 158 Lays of the Land NOT DEAD. I gazed upon the withered buds and said — "Sweet little flow'rcts, ye are precious yet, The sun that kissed ye into life has set, The fragrant perfume of your breath has fled. " Pure relics of the sweetness of the earth, Your blushing loveliness of yesterday Has vanished, and your bloom has passed away, The garden bee forgets your place of birth. "Bright new-born sisters fill your cradles green, And sip at morn your cups of pearly dew, They grow to-day where yesterday ye grew, And smile around as if ye ne'er had been. 4i "Why are ye precious, then, sweet flow'rets, why, If those poor faded leaves alone remain As dear mementoes of your transient reign ? — Because to me, sweet buds, ye cannot die ! "A gentle hand has made ye part of me, For here below, our selfish spirits cull All they can gather of the beautiful To clothe themselves for immortality." of the Maori and Jlfoa. 159 THE SOUL'S TREASURY. The heartless miser, mean and cold, May bow before his yellow god, I covet not his fruitless gold, I envy not the selfish clod ; I've riches of a brighter stamp Locked in my soul with sacred key, And by the light of mem'ry's lamp I view the wealth God gave to me. Ah ! there I keep my jewels rare, And luminous my treasures gleam : My visionary towers are there, Built up in many a happy dream ; The kiss that sealed my infant prayer, When first I made my childish plea Unto our Father's throne, is there, Among the wealth God gave to me. Warm beams of love, and rays of truth, And gleams of hope and sparks of thought, And echoes of the songs of youth, And music in the spring-time caught From warblers wild, that waked the heart To nature's purest minstrelsy : Such blessed gifts are but a part Of all the wealth God gave to me. 1 60 Lays of the Land of the Maori and Moa. Among my riches I can trace Impressions of hearts leal and kind, And negatives of many a face In lustrous tabernacle shrined ; And there are flow'rets from the tombs Of vanished friends I may not see Till God's eternal lamp illumes The precious wealth He gave to me. But not to you nor me alone The past its soothing sweetness gives, Each soul has coffers of its own Wherein man's better nature lives ; Let worldlings hug their earthly gains, They come and go, they fade and flee, Imagination still remains To guard the wealth God gave to me. THE END. CILBEET AND EIVINGTON, LIMITED, SI. JOHN'S SQUAKE, LONDON. A Catalogue of American and Foreign Books Published or Imported by Messrs. Sampson Low & Co. can be had on application. Crown Buildings, 1 88, Fleet Street, London, September, 1883. 3 delation from tin £i'st of Books PUBLISHED EY SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON. ALPHABETICAL LIST. A BOUT Some Bellows. By an Eton Boy, Author of "A Day of my Life." Cloth limp, square i6mo, 2s. 6d. Adams (C. K.) Manual of Historical Literature. Crown Svo, \2s. 6d. Alcott {Louisa JIL). Jack and Jill. i6mo, 55-. Proverb Stories. i6mo, 3 J - . 6d. Ohi-Bashioned Thanksgiving Day. y. 6d. Shawl Straps. 2s. 6d. ■ See also " Low's Standard Novels" and "Rose Library." A Id rich {T. B.) Briar Jerome's Beautiful Book, &c. Very choicely printed on liand-rnade paper, parchment cover, $s. 6d. Poetical Works. Edition de Luxe. Very handsomely bound and illustrated, 2ls. Allen {E. A.) Rock me to Sleep, Mother. With 18 full- page Illustrations, elegantly bound, fcap. 4to, 5-r. Ajnerican Men of Letters. 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Translated. 2 vols., i8mo, 4s. jHALDWIN (/.) Story of Siegfried. Emblematical bind- •*-~^ ing, 6s. Bankruptcy : Inutility of the Laws. Lord Sherbrookis Remedy. Crown 8vo, is. Bathgate (Alexander) Waitaruna : A Story of New Zealand Life. Crown Svo, cloth, $s. Batley (A. IV.) Etched Studies for Lnterior Decoration. Im- perial folio, 52.r. 6d. THE BAYARD SERIES. Edited by the late J. Hain Friswell. Comprising Pleasure Books of Literature produced in the Choicest Style as Companionable Volumes at Home and Abroad. " We can hardly imagine better books for boys to read or for men to ponder over." — Times. Price 2s. 6d. each Volume, complete in itself, flexible cloth extra, gilt edges, with silk Headbands and Registers. The Story of the Chevalier Bayard. By M. De Berville. De Joinville's St. Louis, King of France. The Essays of Abraham Cowley, in- cluding all his Prose Works. Abdallah ; or, The Four Leaves. By Edouard Laboullaye. Table-Talk and Opinions of Na- poleon Buonaparte. Vathek : An Oriental Romance. By William Beckford. Words of Wellington : Maxims and Opinions of the Great Duke. Dr. Johnson's Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. With Notes. Hazlitt's Round Table. With Bio- graphical Introduction. The Religio Medici, Hydriotaphia, and the Letter to a Friend. By Sir Thomas Browne, Knt. Ballad Poetry of the Affections. By Robert Buchanan. Coleridge's Christabel, and other Imaginative Poems. With Preface by Algernon C. Swinburne. Lord Chesterfield's Letters, Sen- tences, and Maxims. With In- troduction by the Editor, and Essay on Chesterfield by M. de Ste.-Beuve, of the French Aca- demy. The King and the Commons. A Selection of Cavalier and Puritan Songs. Edited by ProfessorMorley. Essays in Mosaic. By Thos. Ballan- tyne. My Uncle Toby ; his Story and his Friends. Edited by P. Fitzgerald. Reflections ; or, Moral Sentences and Maxims of the Duke de la Roche- foucauld. Socrates : Memoirs for English Readers from Xenophon's Memo- rabilia. By Edw. Levien. Frince Albert's Golden Precepts. A Case containing \2 Volumes, price 31s. 6d.; or the Case separately, price 3s. 6d. List of Publications. Bell {Major) : Ramhla — Spain. From Iran to Cerbere. Crown 8vo, Ss. 6d. Beumers' German Copybooks. In six gradations at \d. each. Biari {Lucien) Adventures of a Young Naturalist. Edited and adapted by Parker Gillmore. With 117 Illustrations on Wood. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, New Edition, Js. 6d. BickerstetlCs Hymnal Companion to Book of Common Prayer may be had in various styles and bindings from id. to 2\s. Price List and Prospectus will be forwarded on application. Bickers teth {Pev. E. LL., ALA.) The Clergyman in his Home. Small post Svo, ij. Evangelical Churchmanship and Evangelical Eclecticism. Svo, is. From Year to Year : a Collection of Original Poetical Pieces. Small post Svo. ■ The Master's Home- Call ; or, Brief Memorials of Alice Frances Bickersteth. 20th Thousand. 32mo, cloth gilt, is. The Master's Will. A Funeral Sermon preached on the Death of Mrs. S. Gurney Buxton. Sewn, 6d. ; cloth gilt, is. - The Shadow of the Pock. Poetry. iSmo, cloth extra, 2s. 6d. The Shadowed Home and the Light Beyond. 7th A Selection of Religious Edition, crown Svo, cloth extra, $s. Bilbrough {E. J. ) " Twixt France and Spain. " [Lu the press. Biographies of the Great Artists {Lllustrated) . Crown 8vo, emblematical binding, 3s. 6d. per volume, except where the price is given. Claude Lorrain.* Correggio, by M. E. Heaton, 2s. 6d. Delia Robbia and Cellini, 2s. 6d. Albrecht Durer, by R. F. Heath. Figure Painters of Holland. FraAngelico,Masaccio,andBotticelli. Fra Bartolommeo, Albertinelli, and Andrea del Sarto. Gainsborough and Constable. Ghiberti and Donatello, 2s. 6d. Giotto, by Harry Quilter. Hans Holbein, by Joseph Cundall. Hogarth, by Austin Dobson. Landseer, by F. G. Stevens. Lawrence and Romney, by Lord Ronald Gower, 2s. 6d. Leonardo da Vinci. Little Masters of Germany, by W. B. Scott. Mantegna and Francia. Meissonier, by J. W. Mollett, 2s. 6d. Michelangelo Buonarotti, by Clement. Murillo, by Ellen E. Minor, 2s. bd. Overbeck, by J. B. Atkinson. Raphael, by N. D'Anvers. Rembrandt, by J. W. Mollett. Reynolds, by F. S. Pulling. Rubens, by C. W. Rett. Tintoretto, by W. R. Osier. Titian, by R. F. Heath. Turner, by Cosmo Monkhouse. Vandyck and Hals, by P. R. Head. Velasquez, by E. Stowe. Vernet and Delaroche, by J. R. Rees. Watteau, by J. W. Mollett, 2s. 6d. Wilkie, by J. W. Mollett. * Not yet published. A 3 Sampson Low, Mars ton, &> Co.'s Bird (F. J.) American Practical Dyer's Companion. 8vo, \2S. Bird (H. E.) Chess Practice. 8vo, 2s. 6d. Black ( Wm.) Novels. See " Low's Standard Library." Blackburn (Henry) Breton Folk : An Artistic Tour in Brittany. With 171 Illustrations by Randolph Caldecott. Imperial 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 21s. ; plainer binding, 10s. 6d. Pyrenees (The). With 100 Illustrations by Gustave Dore, corrected to 1881. Crown 8vo, "js. 6d. 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C) Blossoms from the King's Garden : Sermons for Children. 2nd Edition, small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Boussenard (L.) Crusoes of Guiana ; or, the White Tiger. Illustrated by J. Ferat. Js. 6d. Bofs Froissart. King Arthur. Mabinogion. Percy. See Lanier. Bradshaiv (J.) Netv Zealand as it is. 8vo, 1 2s. 6d. Brassey (Lady) Tahiti. With 31 Autotype Illustrations after Photos, by Colonel Stuart- Wortley. Fcap. 4to, very tastefully bound, 21 s. Braune (Wilhelm) Gothic Grammar. Translated by G. H. Bulg. 3*. 6d. List of Publications. Brisse (Baron) Menus (366, one for each day of the year). Each Menu is given in French and English, with the recipe for making every dish mentioned. Translated from the French of Baron BRISSE, by Mrs. Matthew Clarke. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo, 5^. British Fisheries Directory, 1883-84. Small 8vo, 2s. 6d. Brittany. See Blackburn. Broglie {Due de) Frederick II. and Maria Theresa. 2 vols., 8vo, 30J-. Browne (G. La thorn) Narratives of Nineteenth Century State Trials. 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Hicks, R. Redgrave, R.A., C. Stonehouse, F. Tayler, G. Thomas, H. J. Townshend, E. H. Wehnert, Harrison Weir, &c. Bloomfield's Farmer's Boy. Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Milton's L'AIlegro. Poetry of Nature. Harrison Weir. Rogers' (Sam.) Pleasures of Memory. Shakespeare's Songs and Sonnets. Tennyson's May Queen. Elizabethan Poets. Wordsworth's Pastoral Poems. " Such works are a glorious beatification for a poet."— A thenccum. Gray's Elegy in a Churchyard. Keat's Eve of St. A«nes. List of Publications. Christ in Song. By Dr. Philip Schaff. A New Edition, revised, cloth, gilt edges, 6s. Chromo- Lithography. See "Audsley." Cid {Ballads of the). By the Rev. Gerrard Lewis. Fcap. 8vo, parchment, 2s. 6d. Clay {Charles M.) Modem Hagar. 2 vols., crown 8vo, 21s. See also " Rose Library." Colquhoun {A. R.) Across Chryse ; From Canton to Man da lay. With Maps and very numerous Illustrations, 2 vols., Svo, 42s. Composers. See "Great Musicians/' Confessions of a Frivolous Girl { The) : A Novel of Fashionable Life. Edited by Robert Grant. Crown Svo, 6s. Paper boards, is. Cook {Dutton) Book of the Play. New and Revised Edition. I vol., cloth extra, 3-r. 6d. On the Stage: Studies of Theatrical Llistory and the Actor's Art. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, 24^. Coote {IV.) Wanderings South by Fast. Illustrated, Svo, 21s. New and Cheaper Edition, ior. 6d. Western Pacific. Illustrated, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. Costume. See Smith (J. Moyr). Cruise of the Walnut Shell {The). An instructive and amusing Story, told in Rhyme, for Children. With 32 Coloured Plates. Square fancy boards, 5^. Curtis {C. B.) Velazquez and Murillo. With Etchings &c, Royal Svo, 31s. 6d.; large paper, 63^. Cutcliffe (H. C. ) Trout Fishing in Rapid Streams. Cr. Svo, 3^. 6d. pi AN VERS {N) An Elementary History of Art. Crown •*S Svo, ICV. 6d. Elementary History of Music. Crown Svo, 2s. 6d. Handbooks of Elementary Art — Architecture ; Sculp- hue ; Old Masters : Modern Painting. Crown Svo, 3^. 6d. each. Fay of My Life {A) ; or. Evcry-Day Experiences at Eton. By an Eton Boy, Author of "About Some Fellows." i6mo, cloth extra, 2s. 6d. 6th Thousand. Fay's Col la con : an Encyclopedia of Prose Quotations. Im perial Svo, cloth, 31J. 6d. Decoration. Vol. II., folio, 6s. Vols. Ill , IV, V, and VI., New Series, folio, 7-r. 6d. each. See also Batley. 8 Sampson Low, Mdrston, 6° Co.'s De Leon {E.) Egypt under its Khedives. With Map and Illustrations. Crown Svo, 4s. Don Quixote, Wit and Wisdom of. By Emma Thompson. Square fcap. 8vo, 3-r. 6d. Donnelly {Ignatius) Atlantis; or, the Antediluvian World. Crown Svo, 12s. 6d. Ragnarok: The Age of Fire and Gravel. Illustrated, Crown Svo, \2s. 6d. Dos Passos {J?. E.) Law of Stockbrokers and Stock Exchanges. Svo, 35-r. Dougall {James Dalziel, E.S.A., E.Z.A.) Shooting: its Ap- pliances, Fractice, and Furpose. New Edition, revised with additions. Crown Svo, cloth extra, "js. 6d. "The book is admirable in every way We wish it every success." — Globe. "A very complete treatise Likely to take high rank as an authority on shooting." — Daily News. Drama. See Archer, Cook (Dutton), Williams (M.). D urn ford {Col. A. W.) A Soldiers Life and Work in South Africa, 1872-9. Svo, 140". Dyeing. See Bird (F. J.). pDUCATLONAL Works published in Great Britain. -*— ' Classified Catalogue. Second Edition, revised and corrected, Svo, cloth extra, $s. Egypt. See " De Leon," "Foreign Countries," "Senior." Eidlitz {Leopold} Nature and Functions of Art {The); and especially of Architecture. Medium Svo, cloth, 21s, Electricity. See Gordon. Emerson Birthday Book. Extracts from the Writings ofR. W. Emerson. Square i6mo, cloth extra, numerous Illustrations, very choice binding, 3*. 6d. Emerson {E. W.) Life. By G. W. Cooke. Crown 8vo, 8s. 6d. English Catalogue of Books. Vol. III., 1872 — 1880. Royal 8vo, half-morocco, 42s. English Philosophers. Edited by E. B. Ivan Muller, M.A. A series intended to give a concise view of the works antl lives of English thinkers. Crown Svo volumes of 180 or 200 pp., price 3s. 6d. each. Francis Eacon, by Thomas Fowler. *John Stuart Mill, by Miss Helen Hamilton, by W. H. S. Monck. Hartley and James Mill, by G. S Bower, Taylor. Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, by Frofessor Fowler. Adam Smith, by J. A. Farrer, * Not yet published. List of Publications. Episodes in the Life of an Lndian Chaplain. Crown Svo, cloth extra, \2s. 6d. Episodes of French History. Edited, with Notes, Maps, and Illustrations, by Gustave Masson, B.A. Small Svo, 2s. 6d. each. 1. Charlemag-ne and the Carlovingian3. 2. Louis XI. and the Crusades. 3. Part I. Francis I. and Charles V. ,, II. Francis I. and the Renaissance. 4. Henry IV. and the End of the Wars of Religion. Esmarch {Dr. Frledricli) Handbook on the Treatment of Wuunded in War. Numerous Coloured Plates and Illustrations, Svo, strongly bound, \l. 8s. Etcher (The). Containing 36 Examples of the Original Etched-work of Celebrated Artists, amongst others : Birket Foster, J. E. Hodgson, R.A., Colin Hunter, J. P. Heseltine, Robert W. Macbeth, R. S. Chattock, &c. Vols, for 1881 and 1SS2, imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges, 2/. 12s. 6d. each. Etching. See Batley, Chattock. Etchings (Modem) of Celebrated Paintings. 4to, 31^. 6d. T^ARM Ballads, Festivals, and Legends. See " Rose Library." Fashion (History of). See " Challamel." Fawcett (Edgar) A Gentleman of Leisure, is. Fechner (G. T.) On Life after Death. 12 mo, vellum, 2s. 6d. Felkin (R. W.) and Wilson (Rev. C. T) Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan. With Map, numerous Illustrations, and Notes. By R. W. Felkin, F.R.G.S., &c, &c. ; and the Rev. C. T. WILSON, M.A. Oxon., F.R.G. S. 2 vols., crown Svo, cloth, 285. Fenn (G. Manville) Off to the Wilds: A Story for Boys. Profusely Illustrated. Crown Svo, Js. 6d. Ferguson (John) Ceylon in 1883. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo. Ferns. See Heath. Fields (y. T) Yesterdays with Authors. New Ed., 8vo., 16s. Florence. See " Yriarte." Flowers of Shakespeare. 32 beautifully Coloured Plates, with the passages which refer to the flowers. Small 4to, 5J-. 10 Sampson Low, Marston, &> Co.'s Foreign Countries and British Colonies. A series of Descriptive Handbooks. Each volume will be the work of a writer who has special acquaintance with the subject. Crown 8vo, 3-r. 6 Co.'s Great Artists. See " Biographies." Great Historic Galleries of England {The). Edited by Lord Ronald Gower, F.S.A., Trustee of the National Portrait Gallery. Illustrated by 24 large and carefully executed permanent Photographs of some of the most celebrated Pictures by the Great Masters. Vol. I., imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges, 36J. Vol. II., with 36 large permanent photographs, 2/. \2s. 6d. Great Musicians. Edited by F. Hueffer. A Series of Biographies, crown Svo, 3.?. each : — "Bach. *Beethoven. * Berlioz. English Church Com- posers. By Barett. *Gluck. Handel. * Haydn. *Marcello. Mendelssohn. Mozart. *Palestrina. * In preparation. Purcell. Rossini. Schubert. *Schumann. Richard Wagner. Weber. Grohmann (JV. A. £.) Camps in the Rockies. Svo, 12s. 6d. Guizofs History of France. Translated by Robert Black. Super-royal Svo, very numerous Full-page and other Illustrations. In 8 vols., cloth extra, gilt, each 24^. This work is re-issued in cheaper binding, 8 vols., at iar. 6d. each. " It supplies a want which has long been felt, and ought to be in the hands of all students of history." — Times. . Masson's School Edition. The History of France from the Earliest Times to the Outbreak of the Revolution; abridged from the Translation by Robert Black, M. A., with Chronological Index, Historical and Genealogical Tables, &c. By Professor Gustave Masson, B. A., Assistant Master at Harrow School. With 24 full-page Portraits, and many other Illustrations. I vol., demy Svo, 600 pp., cloth extra, iar. 6d. Guizofs History of England. In 3 vols, of about 500 pp. each, containing 60 to 70 Full-page and other Illustrations, cloth extra, gilt, 24J. each ; re-issue in cheaper binding, iar. 6d. each. " For luxury of typography, plainness of print, and beauty of illustration, these volumes, of which but one has as yet appeared in English, will hold their ov/n against any production of an age so luxurious as our own in everything, typography not excepted." — Times. Guyon (Mde.) Life. By Upham. 6th Edition, crown Svo, 6s. TTALL ( W. W.) How to Live Long; or, 1408 Health Maxims, •£*■ Physical, Mental, and Moral. By W. W. Hall, A.M., M.D. Small post 8vo, cloth, 2s. 2nd Edition. Harper's Christmas No., 1882. Elephant folio, 2s. 6d. List of Publications. 13 Harper's Monthly Magazine. Published Monthly. 160 pages, fully Illustrated, is. Vol. I. December, 1S80, to May, 1881. ,, II. June to November, 1881. ,, III. December, 1 881, to May, 18S2. ,, IV. June to November, 1882. ,, V. December, 1882, to May, 1SS3. Super-royal Svo, S.r. 6d. each. " ' Harper's Magazine ' is so thickly sown with excellent illustrations that to count them would be a work of time ; not that it is a picture magazine.^ for the engravings illustrate the text after the manner seen in some of our choicest editions de luxe.'' — St. James's Gazette. " It is so pretty, so big, and so cheap. . . . An extraordinary shillingsworth— 160 large octavo pages, with over a score of articles, and more than three times as many illustrations." — Edinburgh Daily Revieiu. "An amazing shillingsworth . . . combining choice literature of both nations." — Nonconformist. Hatton (Joseph) Journalistic London : with Engravings and Portraits of Distinguished Writers of the Day. Fcap. 4to, \2s. 6d. Three Recruits, and the Girls they left behind them. Small post Svo, 6.r. " It hurries us along in unflagging excitement." — Times. See also " Low's Standard Novels." Heath (Francis George). Autumnal Leaves. New Edition, with Coloured Plates in Facsimile from Nature. Crown Svo, 14?. Burn ham Beeches. Illustrated, small Svo, is. Fern Paradise. New Edition, with Plates and Photos., crown 8vo, \2s. 6d. Fern World. With Nature-printed Coloured Plates. New Edition, crown Svo, \2s. 6d. Gilpin's Forest Scenery. Illustrated, 8vo, 12s. 6d. ; New Edition, "js. 6d. Our Woodland Trees. With Coloured Plates and Engravings. Small Svo, \2s. 6d. Peasant Life in the West of England. Crown Svo, 1 or. (id. Sylvan Spring. With Coloured, &c, Illustrations. 12s. 6d. Trees and Ferns. Illustrated, crown 8vo, 3*. 6d. Where to Find Ferns. Crown 8vo, 2s. Heber (Bishop) Hymns. Illustrated Edition. With upwards of 100 beautiful Engravings. Small 4to, handsomely bound, "js. 6d. Morocco, iSs. 6d. and2U. New and Cheaper Edition, cloth, 3^. 6d. 14 Sampson Low, Marston, & Co.'s Heldmann (Bernard) Mutiny on Board the Ship " Leander." Small post 8vo, gilt edges, numerous Illustrations, Js. 6d. Ilcnty (G. A.) Winning his Spurs. Numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 5.?. Cornet of Horse : A Story for Boys. Illustrated, crown 8vo, jr. Jack Archer : Tale of the Crimea. Illust, crown 8vo, $s. Herrick (Robert) Poetry. Preface by Austin Uobson. With numerous Illustrations by E. A. Abbey. 4to, gilt edges, 42s. History and Principles of Weaving by Hand and by Power, With several hundred Illustrations. By Alfred Barlow. Royal 8vo, cloth extra, 1/. $s. Second Edition. Hitchtnan (Francis) Public Life of the Right Hon. Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield. New Edition, with Portrait. Crown 8vo, 3-r. 6d. Hole (Rev. Canon) Nice and LLer Neighbours. Small 4to, with numerous choice Illustrations, i6j-. Holmes (O. W.) The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes. 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