IC-NRLF 3^ iMi w$ V^TJ 1 * K I I g T LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ; fe ft VOICE FROM THE JBU^tt BY IR/DIBIEIR/r WALLELBERDINA, S.A. THREE J^ HREE LATES. ADELAIDE : FREAR^ON & BRO., PRINTERS AND PUBLISHEH^. KING WILLIAM-ST. 1877. GIFT PREFACE. HAVING, at different times of my life, so far forgotten myself as to perpetrate rhymes on various subjects, I. like others afflicted with the same incurable malady, became desirous that I should not be the only sufferer, so, inflicted a small edition on my friends, the people of South Australia ; and the critics of the said Province having been very merciful, (I was going to sayjmt and merciful) and the public most easy to please, why, the book sold, and I (being reinforced by a friend who understands punctuation, and is a Severe, though kindly critic) furbished up some of the old poems, and made some new ones, and I now offer the same to be properly cut up by the critics, if it will give them any satisfaction to do so ; and, thereafter to be perused with all sorts of sensations, by more unsophisticated readers who desire to see things described as they are, and to understand what they read. As what is pleasant and nutritious pabulum to one. is poison to another, I have ranged from " the sublime to the ridiculous," so as to have a plum for all who investigate my pudding. In justice to my critical friend, I must here observe that several pieces occupy pages in this book which he wished left out, but I think, if they draw off the venom from a crabbed critic or two, they will have served a good purpose, and I shall be recompensed accordingly. R. BRUCE. WALLELBERDINA, May Gth, 1877. M865238 LI8T OF PLATES. No. Tage. 1. THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE LONDON (Frontispiece.) 2. THE DINGO HUNT 82 3. BURNING OF THE COSPATRICK 121 THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE LONDON. LIST to that capstan song, and with me view The gallant steamship, which her active crew Haul from the crowded dock, whose gates, thrown wide, Permit her egress to the Thames' dark tide. Slowly she glides, her ev'ry motion scann'd By crowds of gazers gather'd on the land ; And by the harbour-master who, alert, Can well his brief authority assert, And order all the ready tars obey His short, sharp mandates, which brook no delay. Out to mid-stream the good ship grandly glides ; Swings with the tide, and there in safety rides. Now, with colossal force, the prison'd steam Drives the vast vessel o'er the deep, dark stream. Proudly she moves, while from the crowded strand, Loud cheers resound for her, and for her band Of emigrants who, from the decks, reply With fainter shouts and kerchiefs waved on high ; And many tear-dimm'd eyes are strain 'd to keep In view some friend, who tempts the stormy deep ; Buoy'd by the hope that, in that southern land, Wealth may repay the labour of his hand ; That smiling fields and new found friends, in part, May fill the void occasional in his heart By this rude sev'rance of those social ties Which men hold lightly ; but perversely prize When they are sunder' d by stern strokes of fate That, all too often, vex this mortal state. With steady skill the quartermaster steers The ship down stream, amid the crowded tiers Of merchantmen, whose lofty hamper shows Like a dense forest with incumbent snows Piled on its branches, for the wind-worn sails, (Bleach'd by exposure to unnumber'd gales), Now trimly folded by the gallant tars, Gleam, like bright snow-wreaths, on the taper spars : These, nicely-balanced on each lofty mast, Full oft have bravely borne them to the blast. Onwards she steams, while many a vessel's crew Crowd to the sides the stately ship to view), Her size, her spars, her graceful lines they praise, And tell, with confidence, the tale of days Her trip will occupy ; but not one word Of evil augury is to be heard, For all that skill, and all that wealth can do, Has been expended on the ship they view. Well-found, well-mann'd, and with a master-mind To guide her motions, waves or stormy wind Against her prestige, and her perfect state, Seem to weigh nothing in the scales of fate. But men are blind ; and what may her befall Is known to Him, and Him alone whose call Can wake the hurricane, and with it heap, In awful waves, the bosom of the deep. Then on, brave ship ! and ye who in her sail Trust, in your hearts, the Ruler of the gale. Gravesend is gain'd the engines stopp'd and now The anchor plunges from her lofty bow ; While, from the deck where it in folds has lain, Out through the hawse-pipe surges forth the chain ; And o'er the waves loud rolls a sullen roar, In growling thunder, to the distant shore. Now to and fro the busy wherries glide, Urged by strong oarsmen, o'er the brackish tide, To bring more emigrants, or to convey Some from the ship, who, e'er they sail away (Perhaps for ever) from their native shore, Take this last chance to visit it once more ; For very dear, unto a Briton's heart, Is England's soil when from it he must part. The grimy stokers, down below, once more Heap high the fuel, and the red flames roar Within the furnaces, and quickly raise The toiling giant of these modern days, Which, bred from water, by consuming fires Within its prison fuming fierce perspires, Ready to drive, with vast untiring force, The noble vessel on her trackless course. Forth from her funnel floats, in volumes vast, The rolling smoke upon the chilly blast, Which, through the shrouds, with mournful moaning sighs, As if sad spirits, with prophetic eyes, Lament above that gallant craft, which they Presage to Ocean as its destined prey ! The ship is clear' d the anchor is aweigh, And lingering friends no longer can delay Their last farewell ; yet still, with wish to cheer, They force the smile and check the rising tear ; Exchange long clinging pressure of the hand, Then gain their boats and row towards the land ; Though still their eyes, fix'd on the vessel's deck, Mark the lov'd face, till it becomes a speck Soon lost to view, for 'neath full head of steam, With hissing prow, the LONDON cleaves the stream, Her broad red ensign gleaming darkly through The smoky cloud, which almost hides from view The long black hull ; tho' still distinct and clear, Above it shows her taut and lofty gear. That, too, with distance, disappears, and then Naught, save the smoke, remains to gazer's ken. The Nore is reach'd, but night is falling fast ; And, from the Downs, the bitter, biting blast Sweeps thro' the rigging ; while the seamen's eyes Mark the wild scud that 'neath the black clouds flies, Like evil harbinger of angry strife, Which, in the elements, will soon be rife, And warning gives to those who, on the deep, 'Midst rocks and shoals, their anxious vigils keep. And so the captain, versed in nature's signs, All thought of progress, for the time, resigns ; At least till Phrebus, o'er the narrow sea Shall shed his light, or winds become more free. His will express'd the skilful pilot hears, And for safe anchorage, the vessel steers ; While toiling engines their vast labours stay, And sullen rest, when, with fast failing way, The ship sweeps on till, at a given word, A rattling roar and heavy plunge are heard, And once again amid the waves, which glide With fretful splash along her dark strong side, She anchor'd lies ; while, in a fleecy cloud, The steam pours forth with clamours fierce and loud, At once, with liberty, to lose its might, And with the mists to swell the dews of night. Four bells are struck, the evening's watch is set, While, in the cabin, passengers have met At the long tables, tempting cheer to try, Which in profusion gladdens ev'ry eye ; 8 For, 'neatli the swinging lamps' soft mellow light, Bright comfort reigns, ami scares the dreary night. When now the voyagers retire to rest, What novel fancies agitate eacli breast ! For all is strange, and, though they feel no fear, Strange uncouth noises from outside they hear The wind's shrill whistle thro' each pendant block ; And, 'gainst the side, the constant splashing shock Of dashing waves, which, fast succeeding, roll O'er deep, dark channel and o'er sandy shoal ; While sounding strokes, upon the ship's large bell, The flight of time unto the wakeful tell ; And on the deck, above their heads, with slow And measured tread, parading to and fro, The watch is heard, whose duty 'tis to keep A keen look-out upon the trackless deep To note huge dusky forms come driving past, With spreading sails before the chilly blast. Full in their front a lantern, gleaming bright, Marks their advance, while phosphorescent light Glimmers like gloww r onns 'mid the yeasty Hakes Of dancing foam which gather in their wakes. Swiftly they dash ! For them the wind is free, Their port near gain'd ; the fatal, stormy sea, Its rocks and shoals, its fierce tornado blast, And wild lee shores are now but dangers past. Blithe are their crews, and ready to obey The pilot's orders ; for another clay Of servitude their slavish duty ends ; Then hey ! for home ! for sweethearts, wives, and friends ! The Sabbath dawns tlie winter's sun once more, With feeble beams, illumines sea and shore ; But still, adverse, above the foam-fleck'd waves The gale sweeps on, and through the rigging raves. Still, overhead, the low scud swiftly flies, And all betoken, to a seaman's eyes, A time of trouble, with dread clangers fraught, To those who needs must leave their friendly port. The adverse signs the careful pilot notes, And, with regret, another day devotes To dull delay ; then, with the new-born year, He will to sea his gallant vessel steer. But now, witli cable straining to the tide, And England's banner floating free and wide From her high peak, the London, in her might, Anchor'd remains, to all a noble sight. The hours glide by night falls is past and now, With early dawn, the anchor at her bow Is safely catted ; and, with prow of speed, She dashes on like some high-mettled steed That needs no spur, but, with collected force, Champs his steel bit, and swiftly takes the course ; So, like a thing of life, she seems to glide, And, all majestic, cleaves the flashing tide. Ramsgate and Margate fast recede from view, Then Dover's famous cliff, of chalky hue, (With its green brow, and ancient castle's walls), Which long has braved stern time and gusty squalls. Next, Goodwin Sands, (so oft the greedy grave Of gallant vessels and their seamen brave), Are safely passed ; and, o'er the dark green tide, The Isle of Wight looms grandly in its pride, While glancing sails of vessels homeward bound Hover, like sea birds, o'er the waves around. But soon again the fast-increasing wind With fury raves, and drives the ship to find Shelter in famed St. Helen's Roads till free It should become, and less disturb'd the sea. Now Night on ling'ring pinions takes her flight, When with the early, cold grey morning light They weigh the anchor, and the ship, again, Urged by her engines, ploughs the restless main. The curling billows seem to own her sway, While 'neath her bows, engaged in glancing play, The porpoises before her swiftly glide, And, in succession, leap above the tide Close to the prow ; confusedly they dash, The sparkling waters from their bodies flash. Amused, the passengers their antics view, But, to the hardy, weather-beaten crew, Their sprightly gambols tell a certain tale Of rising waves, and fast increasing gale. Onward she glides, and soon the Needle Rocks, Which have, for ages, braved the tempests' shocks, Are safely passed, and to the open main The London steams, but to be foiled again ; For, toiling hard, thro' adverse seas she ploughs, Which, in fierce billows, thunder at her bows. Wild wails the wind amongst the rigging high. While with hoarse cries the wheeling seagulls fly Toward the land, where now, with ceaseless roar, The boiling breakers whiten all the shore. 10 The pilot, warned by all those portents drear. Now for Spithead designs the ship to steer. Slu slowly wears, then, like a st:irtleiils them to cease their troubled tears and moans, Exhorting all in humble faith to llv To Him who looks Avith ever-watchful eve Upon His servants, and, with mighty arm, Can, if He will it, save from every harm. Thus they below ; while overhead the crew, With doubts increasing, their position view : For now two staysails, with a deaden'd roar, Burst from their bolt-ropes, and are seen no more. In whirling shreds to leeward they are blown ; The masts relieved, reel backward with a groan ; While on her deck the raging billows beat, And the drench'd crew to shelter'd nooks retreat To 'scape the bitter blast and waves, which fly O'er even r part, and leave no corner dry. But now a billow, vaster than the rest, With curling head, and fiercely foaming crest, Swoops on two boats stow'd on the starboard side, And in small fragments strews them on the tide. A cutter that, a buoyant lifeboat this, Their loss adds largely to the great distress. But for regret no time the storm allows, Which ev'ry instant to fresh fury grows, Till at " two bells," in the first watch of night, The hurricane is nearly at its height ; For in vast chasms is the ocean riven, And to their depths the hapless ship is driven, Involv'd in foam which gleams with ghastly light, And swells the horror of the awful night ; Then upward heav'd, upon stupendous wave, As if ejected from a yawning grave, She meets the blast that, with a deaf ning roar, Hends all her sails, and seems to howl for more. Meanwhile brave Martin, to his duty true, With great example animates the crew. Now here now then his manly accents sound O'er strife of elements which roar around ; And, when the sails are from the vessel torn, 21 By telegraph his will below is borne To loose the might of fuming steam again, And with its aid to stem the wind-scourg'd main. Onwards she drives, but soon remorseless fate Hurls fresh disasters of a crushing weight On the doom'd ship which, girt with terrors round, Battles the billows of the vast profound. For as five strokes upon the ship's large bell The march of time proclaim with measured swell, O'er the port gangway, with prodigious weight, A huge wave falls, and seals the vessel's fate ! For thro' the engine hatch of teak and brass, With iron gratings o'er its thick plate glass, The waters burst with terrifying crash, And thro' the breech resistless torrents dash, Hurling two seaman to the lower deck, Where waves, usurping, herald coming wreck ; While, of the late strong hatch, now naught remains Save splinter'd wood, bent bars, and shatter'd panes ! For, as an avalanche, down Alpine steeps From icy glacier, with fell fury sweeps, Trees, rocks, and chalets, in one ruin hurl'd, Are borne before it to the lower world, Grim desolation marks it as it flies, And sullen thunders shake the earth and skies, So, with like fury, fell that sea on board, Burst in the hatch, and thro' the chasm roar'd. Swift to the place the mate and captain fly, And shout for help the ready crew reply. With spars and sails the torrent they would stay ! The sea sweeps each impediment away ! Tarpaulins, blankets, mattrasses they bring, And booms and ladders o'er the opening fling ! Yet 'tis in vain such barricades they heap, For, all implacable, the raging deep Its billows hurls, as if in scorn of those Poor puny mortals who its might oppose. They strive in vain ! the waters bear away Their frail devices to retard its way. Men, sails, and spars it dashes to and fro, And, thro' the rift, descends in tons below. Brave Jones and Greenhill by their engines stand, While stokers huddle in a frighten'd band, Watching the waters, with dilated eyes, As the cold waves around their bodies rise ; While, in their ears, resounds the hollow roar Of mighty seas which down the hatchway pour. Meanwhile, on deck, brave Martin and his crew Do all that merely mortal men can do. Some work the pumps the passengers assist ; Heroic Brooke and Woolley swell the list ; With soft white hands, but with undaunted hearts, Through that dread night they act strong heroes' parts, And, by example, greatly animate The faint of heart to fight against the fate That clamours for them from the howling gale, And from each sea which dashes o'er the rail. Now, as the hours to midnight near approach, The rising waters on the fires encroach. First hiss the bars ; and, in a moment more, The vanquish'd flames expire with splutt'ring roar. Thick, noisome vapours all below assail, And gallant Greenhill must convey the tale, Fraught with distress, to his commander, who, Calm and collected, animates the crew To vast exertions, when their worn-out frames, And sinking hearts for rest put forth their claims. True to his trust he labours here and there, All things directs, and battles with despair ! With unmov'd face heroic Martin hears The dreadful news, that Greenhill to him bears ; Of fires put out of engines which no more Will pump the ship, or urge her to the shore. He thinks a moment ; then, unto his band Of British seamen, give the loud command To loose the huge maintopsail ; at the word That splendid crew, by danger undeterr'd, Scale the bleak rigging and, despite the gale, Undo the buntlines, and set free the sail, Which flutters fiercely in the passing squall, As brawny arms upon its halyard haul. Up the smooth mast the huge yard slowly creeps Hoarse is the cry that time for haulage keeps ; But soon the rope yields nothing to the hands, And, to the blast, the sail like armour stands. It stands not long, for, with a dread report As when a shell, exploding in a fort, Ignites the magazine, and hurls on high 23 The blazing ruinB to the startled sky It bursts in twain ! then, in long ragged shreds, Streams on the gale above the seamen's heads, Who, for an instant, their endeavours stay, And, breathless, watch it as it flies away Into the darkness of the murky night ; Then turn, once more, to wage unequal fight With raging ocean, which but mocks their pain, And seems to rave and surge with deep disdain. Well may the captain say, amidst his cares, " My gallant fellows, we may say our prayers !" For, through the hatchway, wave succeeding wave Resistless pours, and sinks her in her grave. 'Tis twelve o'clock of night the solemn noon And all who can meet in the large saloon To pray to Him who now alone hath power To show them mercy in this dreadful hour, And save their lives, if such should be His will, For, to the waves, He sayeth, " Peace, be still !" And they obey Him ; who of old hath said, " Have faith in Me, and be ye not afraid." Also to those, by pain and grief oppress'd, " Come unto Me, and I will give you rest." To Him they pray ; while Draper's accents sound Like words of life to those who kneel around. Strong in his faith, by trouble undismay'd, He sees, past Death, bright Paradise display'd, With gates wide open to receive the band He fain would pilot to that better land, Where death is not, and where no pain or strife Can enter in to mar Eternal Life. Oh ! faith most wonderful ! to thee is given To lift from terror to glad thoughts of heaven The souls of men ; though dreadful death be near, They who the words of consolation hear, Forget their anguish of despair, and find A peaceful calm pervading every mind. Scales seem to fall from off their eyes they see A parted passage through the raging sea To peace for ever ! now, no more they hear The ocean's roar with sickly qualms of fear, But calmly wait their near approaching fate, And humbly hope a bright eternal state. These thus employed ; upon the sea-drench'd deck, The seamen toil to save the sinking wreck. 24 Nerv'd by despair they work the pumps in vain, The inside waters on them swiftly gain. Still, on the hatchway, gallant fellows strive To fasten sails, which briny torrents drive Down through the aperture, while to and fro Themselves are driven by the ebb and flow Of the vast seas, which breaking o'er the rail, Relentlessly the weary men assail. So shaggy wolves, on Russia's dreary plains, Made bold and fierce by hunger's gnawing pains, With dismal howls some traveller attack ; His madden'd horses foam along the track ; In vain the driver his red scourge applies, Death in his soul, and horror in his eyes, They can no more, for, closing all around, The brutes dash in and drag them to the ground ; Then awful cries of agony ascend, As countless fangs the hapless victims rend ; Wolves heaped on wolves above their bodies rise, And fiercely wrangle for the bloody prize ! So raging waves around the London rave, To wreck destruction on her seamen brave. Now, from the noontide of that fatal night, Into the past, four hours have wing'd their flight, When a huge sea, with overwhelming force, Thro' the poop windows takes its ruthless course, Driving the shutters of the dead lights back, And spreading ruin on its onward track. Tons of salt water thro' the cabins flow, And penetrate unto the decks below, Flooding the place where Draper still consoles, And preaches mercy to repentant souls. " Father," he prays, " may those who round me bow " In deed and truth become converted now, " And humbly bend beneath Thy chastening rod, " Nor dread Thy call, ' prepare to meet thy God !' " Faith over fear the victory has won, " Father,' we answer ' Lord, Thy will be done !' " Meanwnile the carpenter, the ports to bar, Shores up the shutters with a strong spare spar, The which, sustain'd by main deck post, may foil The ocean's fury for a little while. A brief success ! for, in the engine room, The waters rise, and hurry on her doom. Deeper she sinks, and soon the sea once more 25 Drives in the ports, despite the strutting shore ; Then hurls its billows, wave on wave, within, With tenfold fury, and with splashing din. But as brave soldiers, in a fortress pent, Beset by foes upon their death intent, Still, with stern valour, fight for fame and life, And falter not in the ensanguin'd strife ; 80, with like brave bravery, the seamen toil Amid the waves which round them surge and boil ; Prompt to obey their officers' commands, They struggle on in two unflinching bands. One, with the captain, strives, with efforts vast, To bar the hatch, courageous to the last ; But all their struggles are of no avail, Their best devices, and their labours fail. For the dread cohorts of the ocean leap Into the hold, to swell the volumes deep Of fatal floods, which in it darkly flow, Forcing their prey to wreck-strewn shades below ; And the brave captain owns with bitter pain No cheering hope can in his breast remain. But still he cries (when he regains the deck) To those who would the deadly leakage check, " Put down your buckets, men, and strive, with me, " To bar the hatchway to the raging sea ; " Which, could we do, perhaps we yet may save " Ourselves and vessel from an ocean's grave." They answer to his call ! again ! again ! Unheeding hunger, weariness, and pain. With valiant hearts strive hard, but strive in vain ; For the wild waves their labours all confound, Beating their bodies on the wreck around ; Death, for his victims, with impatience craves, Shrieks in the blast, and rides the rolling waves. Thus they. The others work the pumps and bale, With half-nude forms exposed to biting gale. Woolley and Wilson, Grant, and others toil To wrest from ocean its expected spoil. There too is Brooke, who, on the mimic stage, Has oft affected Hope, Fear, Joy, and Rage ; But now, all fearless on the stage of life, No weakness shows amid the tempest's strife Which round him roars. He sees huge waves descend Upon the ship, as if at once to end 26 The painful struggle ; sees the sails all torn In ragged shreds, ami on the tempest home ; Sees fellow-shipmates driven o'er the side To meet their death beneath the cruel tide ; And knows the ship (now brimful of her foe) May, any instant, to the bottom go ; Yet, with brave heart, and mighty, iron will, Remains undaunted and collected still. With naked feet and head to tempest bare, He seems all present, aiding here and there ; Now from the cabin striving hard to bale The rising floods which threat its inmates pale ; Then at the pumps is he a host indeed To give relief to those who rest most need. He seeks no rest, but still toils bravely on, Till all may see that no more can be done ; Then stands aside ; and soon his musing brain Rolls back the tide of his past life again ; His home, his friends, his joys and troubles past, Throng to its call, before him thick and fast ; His happy childhood, his maturer years, Triumphs reverses mingled hopes and fears By turns excite th' emotions of his heart, But, from his eyes, can cause no tears to start. So hours drag on ; and still he silent stands, His thoughtful visage resting on his hands, As, leaning o'er the half companion door, He views the scene, and hears the tempest roar, Calmly awaiting till his soul shall be, By rushing waters, from his frame set free ; And in his last grand character appears A man superior to human fears ! Then ye, who honour valour good and true, Weep, as ye bid heroic Brooke adieu ! Now, once again, unto their longing eyes, The dawn gleams coldly from the eastern skies, But brings no comfort, on its wings of light, To scare the terrors of the bygone night. For, like foul vultures flocking to the slain < )n fatal desert or ensanguin'd plain, Dangers unnumber'd harpy-wing' d appear. Dread harbingers of dissolution near ; And hover round, the last faint hope to scare From human hearts, fast yielding to despair. For in the sea, now level with the deck. 27 Labours the ship, a helpless, sinking wreck ; Waves rolling o'er her in their ruthless course, As, in a battle, rush the charging horse 1 Full of dark seething brine ; she scarcely floats ; And now 'tis death ! or rescue by the boats ! Vain hope, indeed ! for four alone remain, The rest are swallow'd in the raging main ; But these are plugg'd, and soon a scanty load Of bread and water in their depths bestow'd. Then, first the starboard pinnace they design To heave aloft, and to the sea consign. This, built of iron, will with safety bear Full fifty men, if launch'd with skill and care. Six seamen enter as the rail she leaves, And swings above the angry leaping waves, Towards which she glides, but far too swiftly, for The foaming billows o'er the gunwale pour ; Headlong she dives, and, vanishing from view, Leaves in the water her unlucky crew ; But waves, o'er-ravenous, disgorge the men, Bruis'd, and half-drown'd, upon the deck again, Which, scarcely safer than the greedy wave, Is still a respite from a wat'ry grave. Now the spent crew and passengers refrain From painful toils they feel to be in vain, And to the chief saloon at once descend, As if in company their lives to end. Then the brave captain, with a solemn air, Bids them at once for painful death prepare ; The awful warning they in silence hear, For no loud outcries testify their fear ; But to the place where Draper prays aloud They move, a pallid, but collected crowd. Here, hapless mothers o'er their offspring weep, So soon to perish in the raging deep ! While they, with piteous accents, beg to know Why yield their parents to such hopeless woe ? There, men and women, crouching low, are seen To search their Bibles, as if thence to glean Assuring hope from passages, wherein Pardon is promised to repented sin. But when brave Martin presently appears, All eyes throw on him, thro' their welling tears, Enquiring glances ; he at once replies 28 To that mute question from imploring eves. " Ladies, no hope remains for us I tear ; " Nought save a miracle can interfere " To save our lives !" A voice is heard to say (It is the preacher's), " Come then, let us pray." And solemnly to hcav'n ascends once more The voice of prayer amidst the tempest's roar. The hours drag on their weary, leaden flight, And Sol once more attains his midday height ; Still, in the ship, the deadly fluid gains, And the wild sea is level with her chains ; Round her vast stern the greedy waters swirl, And mighty billows o'er her bulwarks curl, When mate and captain once more make a stand, And seek to animate a gallant band Of mariners, to make one effort more To launch a boat wherein to gain the shore. King, Grant, and Daniels aid with willing hands, And brave young Angel by his engine stands,* Ready to hoist her o'er the vessel's side, And drop her lightly on the seething tide. Warn'd by mishap, three men alone descend Within the boat ; from off the side to fend Their small frail ark, which seems as if 'twould be At once engulph'd within the raging sea. But, like a cork upon the ocean cast, (Her sides too low to catch the mighty blast), She rises buoyantly, on billows high, From horrid depths, as if to scale the sky. But so unsafe she seems that very few Seek to augment the number of her crew ; But, in pale groups, cling on the sca-lash'd deck, And wait destruction with the sinking wreck. To Greenhill, now, brave Martin gives command To leave the ship, and head the hardy band ; Who, nimbly springing o'er a chasm wide, Gains the light cutter from the vessel's side. An awful leap ! but desperation lends A stern resolve, that far mere strength transcends. For nerves and sinews, in the human kind, Are urg'd and govern'd by the mighty mind. " Go," Martin says, " the cutter is //tay * Donkey-engine on deck. 29 " My evil fortune's hard demands to pay ; " For, with my passengers, in death I'll sloop " Far in the soundings of the mighty deep !" Meanwhile, below, the pious Draper still Exhorts compliance witli the Heavenly will. " Prepare," he cries, " prepare at once to meet " The Great Creator at the Judgment Seat ! " Your hour is near. Repent ! repent ! before " The fatal floods annihilation pour " In wrath upon you ! There is now no hope, " Saith our good captain, with the storm to cope. " Yet, to the penitent, the hope remains " Of life, for ever, where Jehovah reigns !" The faithful wife beside her husband stands With quiet eyes, and meekly folded hands. Buoy'd by her faith she sees the waves encroach, And falters not at dreadful Death's approach ; But, with true kindness in her woman's heart, Can feel for those who in the boat depart. " Take this," she says unto a seaman bold, (And gives her rug) " 'twill shield you from the cold." And when he urges, " Madam you will need " It for yourself," she answers, " Take no heed " Or care for me ; a few short moments more, " And all my pain and trouble will be o'er." Oh, noble woman ! pious, good, and true ! Death must be blind to seize on such as you ! Now earthly numbers all too meanly sound The praise of him who, by his duty bound, Stands with his wife and children, hand in hand, A loving, lovely, undivided band ! He, though the water, on the leeward side, Rolls in a deep and fast increasing tide, Firmly withstands the efforts which a friend With words persuasive makes, his soul to bend. " No !" he replies, when urged the boat to gain, " My promise made, with these I will remain. " Words cannot shake the purpose of my heart ; " For, as thro' life, in death we will not part ! " But help the children to this side with me, " Where, for a time, the greedy rushing sea " Cannot assail them. Now give me your hand " Good-bye, dear Jack ! and should you reach the land, " Seek out my friends, and tell them Hickman died " With a clear conscience by his lov'd one's side." 30 No more is said, for Wilson hastes away. ( MMU'S strongest instinct eager to obey !) And liails tin 1 boat : but no\v its crew declare That it another passenger will bear. " Go, bring a lady," is the seaman's cry, And Wilson stays not to give back reply, Hut, in wild baste, seeks eagerly in vain For one, alas ! he ne'er will see again. And, as the moments all too swiftly fly, He asks a maiden, who is standing nigh, Will she for life cast in with them her lot ?" She looks compliance, though she answers not. With willing arm he bears her to the rail, When, horror struck, she shrinks from sea and gale, And cries, " Oh, no ! I cannot make that leap." This seals her fate ; for Wilson o'er the deep Springs to the boat, and leaves her to the fate She now, perforce, must with the others wait. But Mrs. Owen would attempt to save Herself and infant from an ocean grave On board the cutter. This brave Martin hears Her tell young Edwards ; and (mov'd e'en to tears) He begs she will not needlessly expose Herself and infant to protracted woes. No chance, he owns, his vessel has to float, But drunken men may be on board the boat, Who, all unruly, would soon cause to fill The craft, converted into a screaming hell ! She listens sadly to his warning voice, And with the ship remains her mournful choice. Now the young middy looks with longing eyes, And for admission to the crew applies. They answer, " Yes ;" he leaps the chasm o'er, And the foil'd billows for him vainly roar. Then Jones, the last man from the fated bark, Bounds from her bulwarks to the tossing ark. " Come ! captain, come !" the eager seamen call ; But death approaching cannot him appal ; For, to their offers, he replies, " No ! no ! " Here, at my )><>st, down with the ship I'll go ! " That none, with truth, shall, in the future, say " He, scared by danger, did his trust betray ! " My passengers, my all, remain, and 1, " A British seaman, at my post will die ! Your course i< Xor.-Xor.-Kast to Ilrest. and, here 31 " Catcli you this compass, by its aid to steer, " With God's good blessing, safely to the land. " Good-bye ! Good-bye !" Then, waving high his hand, A last farewell he signals to the band ; And on his ship, now level with the sea, Calmly awaits till all engulph'd shall be. But, as the boat deserts the sinking wreck, A woman's voice comes shrieking from her deck ; And o'er its rail a livid face appears, The starting eyes exhausted of all tears. Wildly the men she with her arms would stay, Her soul to anguish and despair a prey ; Then shrieks the offer, through the tempest's din, " A thousand guineas if you take me in !" But no response comes back against the blast, The fatal die, for life or death, is cast ! Xot all the wealth of all the world could stay Those seamen stern ! for life they pull away. Soon from the boat the members of its crew The last dread struggles of the London view. For high in air ascends her giant bows, As, o'er her stern, the rolling billows close ; While from below the air, till now close pent, Through bursting decks gives its fell fury vent, Driving the people, with terrific force, Toward the prow in its resistless course. Down ! Down ! she plunges, and vast whirlpools sweep Round awful vortex in the riven deep ; Whence, madly shrill, a wild, heartrending cry Pierces the tempest to the frowning sky ! Then rav'ning ocean, rushing on its prey, Hides its sad victims from the face of day. They sink for ever ! and the sullen blast Raves a hoarse requiem as it hurtles past ! 32 THE CALL OF DEATH. i O THOU, to whom both youn# and old, The cringing slave, the freeman bold, Resign their breath : At whose dread call must pass away The spirit from its house of clay Thy name is Death ! 2. The ailing infant wildly press'd Unto its anguish'd mother's breast, At thy request To its Creator yields its life, Escaping sorrow, sin, and strife, And findeth rest. 3. The aged man with silver hair, Weighed down by weary years of care, His blear'd eyes dim : A weak resistance makes in vain To thee, when from his life of pain Thou callest him. 4. The king upon his couch of state Must yield him tamely to his fate When thou dost call ; For bishop's prayer or army's might Avail him nothing in thy sight, Thou king of all ! 5. The beggar on his bed of straw, Spread on the mouldy cellar floor, Can not prevail On thee to lengthen out the span Allotted to him as a man By whining tale. 6. The lawyer, like the common thief, Is gammoned from existence brief BY writ of thine, To answer for his moral flaws, And plead his soul's eternal cause, In courts divine. 33 7. No legal quibble can avail, No human law 'gainst thee prevail, He must away, And wait (with those whom for a fee In earthly court defended he) The judgment day. 8. The soldier in the battle's din, Eager a crown of fame to win, By foeman's hand Goes down beneath war's horrid wave, And sinks into a blood-stain'd grave, At thy command. 9. The sailor, calm when tempests lower, And resolute e'en in the hour He meets with thee : Storm toss'd upon the coast is cast, And midst fierce breakers breathes his last, At thy decree. 10. The widow's only darling son, Whose toil alone her bread has won, No pity gains ; For stalking grimly on your prey, You force his fainting soul away With racking pains. 11. The prodigal, who all his life, At home has been the cause of strife, And now away Against his parent's just command, Must quit his wanton comrade band, And thee obey. 12. The faithful brother, bold and strong, Who to his only brother clung With single heart, All helpless on the level plain, Thrown from his quiet horse was slain Swift by thy dart. 13. The sneaking coward, who afraid Of e'en the shade himself has made, 34 And dauber sliirks : Altho' he double like a hare. J/Wf fall at last into the snare Thy fell hand works. 14. The miser old thou dost surprise At midnight, when with greedy eyes He counts his gold ; Than tliee, he fears the parting more From it, that yellow shining store, So often told ; 15. The lucre gain'd in many lands, He clutches in his skinny hands, Till his last grasp ; But what no tale of misery Or want could gain, is torn by thee From his close grasp. 16. At thy approach the infidel, Who oft has laugh'd at heav'n and hell, Now with despair Beseeches thee with sighs and tears To grant him yet a few more years ; Ah ! fruitless prayer ! 17. His time is come, he must away Whither ? ah ! whither, who shall say ? He will be tried By Him who gave a soul to man, And in whose sight no mortal can Be justified. 18. The dying Christian calmly waits Thy call, and thro' thy frowning gates Can glory see ; And longing for the joys above, Where all is painless peace and love, He fears not thee ! 19. Tho' thou canst claim the mortal frame, Thou canst not interfere with fame : For tho' all die, A good man's name is ever dear, And lives with his descendants here In memory. 35 20. Then let us all improve each day Of sojourn here, that when away We too must hie : Like Christians we may meet our end, And bid each sorrow-stricken friend A calm good-bye. THE BUSHMAN'S REVERIE. i. PLEASANT it is of home to muse, When from it far away ; Of woodland walks we used to choose, Where oaks and elms and sombre yews Lent their cool shade to joyous crews Of children at their play. 2. Often I lie at close of day Upon my sheepskin bed, When memories both sad and gay Of bygone times, long pass'd away, My fancy's magic call obey, And are before me spread. 3. I seem to see each face again Well-known to me of yore : The cripple's, with its look of pain ; The merchant's, shrewd and keen for gain ; And fellow-schoolmates, who would fain Dispense with bookish lore. 4. And scenes in which each took a share Are brought back to my mind : The gay and festive village fair, With happy rustics gather'd there, Who for the time devoid of care Such pleasure seem'd to find. 36 5. In viewing certain learned pigs, Which seeniM strange tilings to know ; Or gaping at the merry rigs Of harlequins with supple legs, In particoloured tights, and wigs, Before some strolling show. 6. I see them crowding up to pay The small admission fee, Eager to view the wretched play (" George Barnwell " mostly, by the way. Was the one acted in my day A doleful tragedy). 7. The boys who purchased gingerbread, And swing-boats swung in then, How many of them now are dead ! Others, by fickle fortune led, In wild bush lands their life-paths tread Time-sobered, bearded men. 8. The merry girls are matrons staid, And care is on each brow ; To me they seem as when we play'd Together in each copse and glade, Or by the stream for cowslips stray'd ; 'Tis so I see them now. 9. And she on whom I used to look With lover-like regard, Who paddled with me in the brook, And in my sport such interest took She slumbers in a quiet nook Within the old churchyard. 10. But still her form and features, aye, Her very smile I sec, In dreams by night, in thoughts by day, As when we sported in the hay, Or sought for violets in May ; Ah ! pleasant memory ! 11. The skylark singing merrily I seem to hear again, 37 As almost past the ken of eye He mounted toward the glowing sky, And sang his wild sweet melody, Unconscious of all pain. 12. I see again the village green Upon a cricket day ; When, grouped wherever trees would screen, The village folk with happy mien, Watch'd well the match ; a homely scene, Yet picturesque and gay. 13. I hear them raise the cheering shout, Delighted one and all, When old Tom Sewell, hale and stout, 80 neatly caught some batsman out, Or Sherman put the stumps to rout With well-delivered ball. 14. I see the church, with carvings queer Beside each window tall, The heads of storied saint and seer, And one with lengthy ass-like ear, With crooked horn and horrid lear, The enemy of all ! 15. I see its massive tower high, Its grey and buttress'd wall ; Its green graveyard where thousands lie, Hidden for aye from mortal eye, Waiting the summons from the sky, Of quick and dead the call. 16. The Sabbath bells remember'd well I seem to hear again : As when with clear resounding swell They summoned those who near did dwell To come, and hear the pastor tell Of Him who sufier'd pain 17. And ignominy, so that He Might all lost nations save ; And how He walk'd upon the sea, And always succor'd misery, Until He died on Calvary, And was laid in the grave. 38 18. And how in silent death lie lay. Then woke to life again : Kxrmplifying how that they Who on this earth the Lord obey, From death awake, to speed away To life devoid of pain. 19. And then the chimes ; so soft and clear Their music seems to fall Again upon my list'ning ear, As when they knell'd the dying year, And seem'd to welcome, without fear, The conqueror of all, 20. In person of the ruddy heir, That Phoenix-like arose From off the snow-encumber'd bier Of the decrepit wom-out year That had just closed his short career Of mingled joys and woes. 21. And wedding bells with seeming glee Engage in tuneful strife ; While village rustics flock to see The couple who now vow to be Partners in joy or misery While they shall be in life. 22. I hear again the tolling bell With measured solemn boom Float o'er each verdant hill and dell, Casting on some a pensive spell, To others sounding as a knell Of their own earthly doom. 23. And oft I seem to hear again The corncrake's pleasant cry Proceeding from the waving grain, As when in some green shady lane I've often waited long in vain The pretty bird to spy. 24. The slimy snail at dewy eve Across the pathway crawls, 39 As tired farm men slowly leave The standing grain, and surly grieve, From toil to gain a short reprieve Within their cottage walls. 25. The timid hare steals to the crop, And frogs begin to croak, While from the copse wild rabbits hop, And gay cock pheasants cry " cock-op," When flying to the spreading top Of some low sturdy oak. 26. Then night's shades veil each fertile dell So late with sunshine bright ; And on the ear with soothing spell Falls the clear notes of philomel, While some adjacent village bell Proclaims the hour of night. 27. But now mosquitoes fiercely sing Upon my startled ear ; With grating discord does it ring, As lightning down with venom'd sting They cause my vision to take wing, And from me disappear. CHKISTMAS, 1876. HAIL, much-lov'd Christmas ! hail, thou festive time ! So dear to Christians, spread o'er all the earth. In icy region, and in burning clime, Hearts glow with gladness, and with harmless mirth, And men's bright angels hover near each hearth. Care flies, with Sorrow, for a little space, Even from those who from their very birth Have known privation, and the carking race Of all the haunting ills of poor man's dwelling place. 40 Now glow with light the mansions of the great, And music Hoats upon the evening air ; Blithe are the measures, as with hearts elate, Whirl in the dance each animated pair, Youths gay and stalwart link'd with maidens fair. Jocund the laughter at the merry jest Flashing from tongues which wines of vintage rare Loosen right glibly ; while they warm the breast Of even pompous age beneath its costly vest ! Hark to the riddle in that lowly cot ! List to those voices in a chorus blent ! Say, do their owners envy grandeur's lot ? Now that their hearts on harmony are bent, And all their thoughts to happiness are lent ? No ! for to-night they own the jolly sway Of pleasant Christmas, to us mortals sent To crown with joy each year, and drive away The troubles of this life, at least for one short day. Here, in Australia, may this Christmas be A sunny stepping-stone in life's wide stream ; A resting-place of fragrant memory ; A page of history, from whence shall gleam Fair illustration for Old Age's dream ; Fresh to remain, a picture bright and clear, For future converse aye a cheerful theme. And now I'll bid you all, my readers dear, A pleasant Christmas Day, also a blithe New Year. A BUSHMAN'S ADDRESS TO THE MORNING STAR. i. HAIL, morning star ! thou fairest gem In night's refulgent diadem ! I hail thee with delight, When, just before the dawn's first gleam, Like spirit's eye you softly beam All beautiful and bright. '2. Though constellations, hung on high To grace the glowing midnight sky, 41 Like heav'nly jewels shine, Not they, nor meteoric flame, Nor even Phoebe's self, can claim {Such loveliness as thine ! 3. Through winter's night my vigils drear ' I keep, among the saltbush sere, In lonely solitude, Where nought is heard save curlew's cry, Or dingo's howl ; while, hobbled nigh, My horses crop their food. 4. Time, like an endless phantom vast, Glides noiselessly into the past, And sleep deserts mine eyes ; When thoughts and scenes of bygone days Crowd thickly o'er me as I gaze Into the starlit skies. 5. Stars slowly set ; but still the night Waves not her sable wings in flight Before the God of Day, Till in pure radiance you rise To herald, in the eastern skies, Aurora's first faint ray. 6. No longer lonely do I feel, For o'er my senses seems to steal A train of musing fair ; When ah ! what luxury for me ! My mind, like soaring lark, is free Awhile from earthly care. 7. Then hail ! all hail ! thou planet bright ! So dear to lonely bushman's sight ! No star can vie with thee, When, like some guardian serapli fair Watching the world from upper air, You seem to smile on me. 8. But now an all-pervading light Gilds old Mount Arden's craggy height, Announcing Phoebus near ; The stars have vanish'd one by one, And thou, thy cheering mission done, Must also disappear. 42 THE DINGOES. A TALE. ONE cold and cheerless night in May, When clouds obscured the milky way, Two Dingoes quite a pretty pair Went prowling round in search of fare, Resolved to kill, if not to eat, All helpless creatures they might meet ; Warrachie,* Pingo,f Boorachie,J Or tasty lamb, if such should be Abandoned, when in slumber deep It lay, unnoticed by the sheep When they for home had drawn away A little past the turn of day ; In fact, those dogs would tear the throat Of valiant ram, or sharp-horn'd goat. They ran with noses to the ground ; And ears keen cock'd to catch each sound ; But they heard nothing save the cry Of ghost-like night-bird sailing by, And the wild moaning of the breeze Among the scrubby sandhill trees ; And they saw nothing save the bird That gave vent to the cry they heard, But which, with noiseless, stealthy flight, Was quickly lost unto their sight ; Besides, their eyes were elsewhere bent, Searching each nook with fell intent, While from them glared a savage light ; Those thieves were ravenous that night. But they were doom'd to hunt in vain ; For nothing did those dingoes gain, On scrubby plain or sandy hill, Whereon to work their ruthless will ; For hunters swart, (as keen as they), Had hunted there that very day ; So Boorachie and Mudla small, Swift Warrachie and Coodla|| tall, Were either captured in the chase, Or fairly scar'd from off the place. Our dingoes, therefore, noticed naught Emu, t Large blue anteater. J Kangaroo rat. 5 Small wallaby. H Kangaroo. 43 In shape of game that could be caught ; Though, when across a creek they pass'd, They saw, as up their eyes they cast, A ring-tailed 'possum, fine and fat, That on a lofty gum-branch sat ; Where, supping heartily on leaves, He cared not for the canine thieves ; Which on him glared with longing glance, Altho' they knew they had no chance, Of making off that tasty beast A very temporary feast. So, like the fox, in ^5sop's fable, Who said, because he was not able To reach the grapes, that they were green, And pass'd on with a look of spleen Our brace of dingoes cantered on, And said the brute was carrion ; Which, looking down with cunning glance, Hoped they would have a fruitless dance, And that they both might 'scape nightmare, By reason of their meagre fare. Onward those dingoes went until A light they saw, beneath a hill, Which shone as steady and as clear As planet from its azure sphere ; While a strange sound upon the breeze Came bonie, as tho' a hive of bees Were swarming ; but with booming roar, As loud as breakers on a shore ! For in a yard a thousand lambs Were bleating loudly for their dams, Which last, with motherly concern, Were bleating loudly in return ! In tenor, treble, and in bass ; The whole, combined, invading space With such a din, as nature can Sometimes thrust on the ears of man, To soothe or irritate his mind Whichever way he feels inclin'd ! This sound, like music of the spheres, May seem unto one person's ears ! Another, in a surly mood, Would use a word extremely rude, And ban it as a horrid noise, As bad as that some organ-boys, In an excruciating way. 44 Grind to the tune of " Old Dog Tray !" Music may " soothe the savage breast," But 'gainst " sheep music " J protest. Not so those dingoes ; it to them Was sweet as sacrificial hymn ; For be it known they both loved lamb, As common people love fried ham, ( Or bacon, should their slender hoard Not furnish ham to grace the board) ; And that strange sound, which they knew well, Invited, as a dinner bell, Or gong, does human dinner waiters Who, of delay, are such known haters, And our two friends were ready then To take pot luck, we'll say, like men ! But I have heard that " 'twixt the lip " And cup, there often is a slip ;" These wild dogs found that proverb true, As I may soon explain to you. I said a bright and steady light Appeared unto those dingoes sight. It shone from out a window small (If you a window it could call, For it was but ten inches square, And not a pane of glass was there To shut in hot, and out cold air) Of a pine hut, with roof of thatch, And paling door, with wooden latch, Which shut within that narrow den Four very dirty-looking men, One woman, and three children small ! I marvel it contain'd them all ! And in the rough stone chimney, bare, (No mantelpiece or i^rate was there, Or whitewashed plaster to efface The cracks in that rude chimney-place), A large wood fire was brightly blazing, (Just what a Paddy would call " plasing,") A fine shin roaster ; and its light Put in the shade the " slush-lamp " quite, Whose- fat-fed, flaring, smoky flame Was quite in keeping with its name. (A pannican, in which some clay 1^ kneaded down in such a way 45 As to support a piece of stick, Round which is rolled a largo rag wick, Then refuse fat is added, and A slush-lamp's made, you understand). The lintels and the rafters, too, Were smoke-stained to an ebon hue ; For when the wind was from the north, The smoke in volumes issued forth Toward the roof-tree, wreathing blue, Instead of flying up the flue, And often brought unbidden tears Into hard eyes, that had for years Seldom been seen as aught but dry, Undimm'd by grief or sympathy. Along the wall-plate, o'er the jambs, Hung several salted mutton hams, Which, quite divested of all bone, Were hams by courtesy alone ; Beside them hung some wooden crooks, To serve the housewife as pot-hooks, Wherewith to shift the three-legg'd pot A most unwieldy thing when hot And very apt to burn or scald one (For it was like a witch's cauldron, Or the great pot the gipsies use, Or pitch-pot known to vessels' crews). The article in question stood, Together with some kindling wood, Beneath a bunk, upon the floor, Between the chimney and the door. This bedstead, rude, was rough and strong, Size, two feet wide by six feet long, And so it just filled up the space Between the door and chimney-place ; Some sun-dried sheepskins on it lay, To serve as cushions thro' the day, As bed and palliass at night (For bushmen need no feathers light, Or snowy curtains round them spn-sul. But sleep where'er they lay their head). And next the chimney, on the bed, Were roll'd a pair of blankets red ; The sleeping kit of him who lay 46 Upon them in a careless way ; For he was coiled, quite at his eae With left hand thrust between his knees, His dexter held a dark dudheen, A blue cloud issued from between His parted lips, while in the blaze He peered, and mused on bygone days ; For he, as any one might see, Was far gone in a reverie. A mate upon the other side A like position occupied, For there a similar rough settle Was placed, and near to it a kettle. Upon its handle sat a Scot, Who raked among the ashes hot, (With a burnt-ended mallee poker, Extemporised by that old stoker), And fancied as they changed in hue That visages which once he knew, Were pictured in those embers bright, Only to vanish from his sight Before he well could call to mind Whose face he fancied was outlined ! But soon lie poked right viciously, As if a bogle he did see ; Then quickly turning, said, " Friend Pat, " Just let us hae the story that " Ye promised." Now the man nam'd Paddy (Of those sweet children three the daddy) Was with his darlings taking tea, With hunger keen, as one might see ; Or rather supper, for 'twas late, And the hot mutton on his plate Seem'd to affirm the meal was what Some folks would call a " supper hot." But all his meals were just the same, And varied merely in the name, A course of mutton, bread, and tea, Recurring everlastingly. For here which makes the growlers mutter In summer time there is no butter. So Pat ate meat three times a day ; Except on Friday, by the way. When he ate eggs, if to be got, Or bread alone, if they wen- not. A< for his wife she did the same, 47 For both of them in deed and name Were Catholics, sincere and staid As ever Pater nosier said. Both had the bump of credence, too, For both believed the story true, Which, Pat his hunger being sated Somewhat as follows then narrated : PAT MURPHY'S STORY. A LEGEND OF THE COUNTY CLARE. 1 Well, thin, d'ye see, 'twas in the County Clare I lived afore I lift ould Ireland, In a swate shpot as ye'd see anywhere, Where blackthorn wis familiar to the hand, And flourished at aich faste, an' wake, an' fair, As it was wont to do in that green land, Where there has lived no shnake, nor bug, nor toad, Since Great St. Pathrick in it once abode. 2. I held on rint a little patch of land, The quality of which wis pretty fair, Jist the right shpot to grow good praties, and Anything else which might be planted there ; But praties wis the things, ye understand, I mostly put in ; they need little care At laste they did not in thim good ould days Afore the blissed fruit tuck the disase. 3. I kipt a pig or two to pay the rint, A lurcher, and an ould flea-bitten mare. Tne dog shtuck to me ivery where I wint, And wis the baste that jist could grab a hare ; He used to git upon the crature's scint, While I kipt out upon the thoroughfare, And thin he'd grab thim in their forms ere they Had half a shlant to shtart an' git away. 4. And, tkin, beside, me and me brother Phil Had got a pot and worm, and used to make Some poteen in a hole benathe a hill, Which came in handy at a faste or wake ; 'Twis mild as milk, and niver made ye ill, Atho' it was the shtuff to make ye shpake Of absint friends, and private matthers such As ye'd not like repated overmuch ! 48 5. Me landlord wis a tall and Mack-haired man, And had a big black bushy board to match ; And sich a bright and piercing eye ! Bad scran To it ! ye'd really fancy 'twas ( )nld Scratch Wis looking thro' ye. as they say ho can ! And troth, I never since seen eyes a patch Upon the piercing pair that gentleman Wis owner of ! his name wis Nid McGan. 6. A married man he wis, and his poor wife (A purty lady, as ye'd wish to see), Wis sid to lade a virry writched life, By rason that they niver could agree. But what at firsht shtirr'd up their conshtant sthrife I niver heerd the rights of properly ; I think it wis bccase a nashty crature He liked too well, of gipsey air and fature. 7. 'Tis said, the wife, (a pious Catholic), Would be a wantin' to attind confission, When bully Ned, the grate big herritic, W< mid git into a mosht infernal passion, And cruelly illthrate her wid a shtick In a cantankerous an' brutal fashion, For which (altho' she might have give him tongue) There's no mishtake, he ought to have been hung. 8. They used to kape three sarvints, that is, they Had work for three, and would have kipt thim on If they could have persuaded them to shtay ; But that wis much more aisy thried than done, For all of thim was sure to run away, And long before their hiring time was run ; For what with divils, and McGan, indade, They in their graves would have been betther laid. 9. For all the pisanthry did use to say He'd nightly dalings wid the Evil One ! For often of a night he'd si it ale away To an ould room, where murther had been done, Of which himsilfdid always kape the kay In his own fob, and thrusted it to none ; An' to him then- there's plinty says there came Tin- Prince of Darkness, Nicholas by name, 49 10. And sundhry of his imps, both shmall and great ; For boys wis sometimes bould enough to shtray About the house he lived in rather late, (As 'tis mesilf has often heard thim say,) And seen things that had caus'd thim to retrate Much quicker thin they wint ! and long e'er they Could make out wither it wis ghost or man That hild ungodly rivils wid McGan ! 11. But all agreed that on that windey blind Queer shaddys danc'd like Jacky Lanterns there ; And strange wild sounds past on the midnight wind ; Which they considhered warnings to beware Of peeping farder, list that they might find Thimsilves give over to the kindly care Of thim dark visithors, which they wis sartin Wis cratures, that a body might be liurtin. 12. And so they started home, wid hair on ind, Shtartin at iviry shaddy deep that fell Acrass the pathway, and ye may dipind They did not loiter much or take a shpell ! In fact, me brother Phil the divil mind Him ! coming home from there fell down a well ! But whither fear or whiskey made him fall, I niver could find out at all ! at all ! 13. For he had been to ould Tim Casey's wake, And had drank lashins of fine sthrong poteen ; So whin he thravelled home wid Paddy Blake, Who liv'd on the nixt sixion patch I mane, They both resolved that they would thin betake Thim to Me Gan's, to see what might be seen ; And if they mit The Divil on the road, They'd tan the hide of that ould skulkin toad. 14. Talk of the divil, and his horns he'll show, Is an ould sayin, and I think a thrue ; And thim two boys found out that night as how 'Tis aysier to threaten than to do ; Espicially if 'tis to have a row Wid the Ould Gintilman ah ! wirrasthru ! Betune him and the grog they made a miss That blissed night, as both had to confiss. 50 15. Av course Phil said it wasn't thro' the grog ; He wis as sober as a jidge he swore ; But said that as they throtted past a bog, They heerd a dhredful scraming, and they saw A hare close followed by a big black dog, And at a distance by a many more : The hare a cryin' as she bounded by " O, blissid virgin ! save me, or I die !" 16. And thin the dogs sit up terrific cries, While from their gaping jaws there did ascind Red jits of flame, and thin their wicked eyes Like livin' coals biased out ! Ye may depind They did jist frighten Phil and Pat ! O, boys ! Their hair as shtift' as shtubble shtood on ind, While their two pair of eyes prothruded out Like you've seen crabs, or maybe heerd about. 17. A tall dark rider rode upon each horse, The biggest looming up to such a height As proved him, out and out, past mortial force ; Besides, both Phil and Paddy caught a sight Of something shticking from behind ! (av course A tail it was !) which so increased their fright That they saw nothing more, till Pat in bed Awoke next morn. And Phil wis fish'd half dead 18. Out of the shaft I tould ye of jist now, Where he was yilling like a lunatic ; An' Paddy Connor, hearin' sich a row Come from his well, got a long laddher quick, And shoved it down so quickly, that I vow, It risted on the back of poor Phil's nick. Whin down Pat wint a heavy man, bedad To find he'd nearly finish'd the poor lad. 19. Av coorse the laddher poked poor Philip's head Benathe the wather, an' 'tis rally thrue, Near killed the boy, for all thought he wis dead, Altho' they thried great manes to bring him to. They rouled him on a barrel, so they did, Wid head hung down ; but that same would not do And thin they shtood him heels up in the air ; Thin laid him out quite dacent, I declare ! 51 20. They thought that he wis passed all earthly strife ; But Mary Connor differed, and said, " Sure " Afore they wint away and tould his wife " They'd bether thry another splindid cure," And that wis " jist the shmallest tashte in life " Of poteen ; there was some benathe the floore, " And he would take it kindly, if so be " He wis not clane gone dead intirely !" 21. They thried him wid a noggin ! In a crack It disappeared like rain-dhrops in the s-iy ! As nate as whate into an impty sack, Or donkey's head into a bag of hay ; And thin he give his lips a knowin shmack And thin he muttherd to himsilf this way " Bedad, but Purgathry is not so bad " If shtuff like this is always to be had !" 22. ! thin there wis some laughing and some noise Wid thim around the bed, where poor Phil sat ! Which put to flight his unixpictid joys, And made him lape up like a startled cat, When off he boulted, followed by the boys Headed by Paddy Connor, wid no hat Upon his head, and nothing but his shirt And throusers on ! and thim all smear'd with dirt 23. And wather from his ducking in the well Whin he wint down to take me brother out ; And so he could not hit out up the hill, Becase his throusers they shtuck close about His ligs ; the same wid master Phil, but still About his running there was little doubt ! Ould Nick and crew were afther him, he thought, And so he did not mane to be soon caught ! 24. Away he wint, and as it happened, sthraight Up the bye-lane in which his sheelin stood ; Which he jist raclied as Katty from the gate Wis coming out ; and then, bedad, she could Not undherstand why Phil ran at that rate, Followed by such a many, young and old ; But thinking he'd been at some divilmint, She opened wide the gate, and in he wint. 52 25. Acrass tin- pratie-patch, jist like a liare, Round the back way, and out of sight lie wint ; While Katty could not shpake, but only shtare After him with the greatest woiidhennint. She thought the whole affair wis virry quare, Altlio' she had a strong prrsintimmt That Phil had got into sonic party light, And killed a Murphy, somewhere in the night. 26. But whin Pat Connor came and tould her how He'd found the crature roaring down his well, She found the way to shpakc agin. Ow, wow ! She vow'd she'd make me brother quickly tell What he'd been up to ye should hear the row She made by way av wilcome to poor Phil ! And said, the nasty, dhrunken, dirty baste Disarved a good sound bating at the laste. 27. I don't know how the pair of thim got on, For Paddy Connor and the boys wint back, Laving the two to go in pro and con. (That's Latin, I belave, for scratch and whack !) I know there wis a scratch or so upon Me brother's face, and that his eyes wis black Whin nixt I see him ; and she used to boast She soon persuaded him she was no ghost ! 28. But here the Scot broke in with " I say, Pat, " Your brither maun hae been a stupid fule " To let the limmer crack the like, the cant ! " I would hae comb'd her hair wie the first stule " I could hae lain my haunds on ; wantin' that, " I would hae gotten something else to cool " The wratches temper, and I would hae hung " But I'd hae stoppit her blaetherskiting tongue !" 29. " Maybe ye would, maybe ye wouldn't, now," Said Pat, giving his rib a knowing wink ; " Ive lieerd yer own ould woman for a row " Is always mighty ready, and I think, " If she did he about and heerd ye crow, " Ye'd virry likely have a nashty kink " About yer back afore ye wint to bed, " If ye got off widout a broldn head." 53 30. (For Mack's old woman was, or rather is, A regular " old nut," in the full sense Of that slang phrase ! Now for her vixen phiz Low forehead, hungry-looking mouth, from whence Her teeth had fallen, but where still doth biz Her hornet tongue, which darts full oft from thence To propagate malicious and foul lies ; While malice gleams from out her snake-like eyes ! 31. These sunk within their sockets, are o'erhung By grizzled eyebrows, which completely span Her long, coarse nose, which seems form'd to be wrung ; And would be often, were she but a man, And did allow her ever active tongue To wag as only such a vixen's can ; But she's a woman, tho' the great display Of beard upon her chin says almost nay ! ) 32. That villain Mack just laugh'd, and said " 0, aye ! " Yere reight there, Paddy, but ye brawly ken " She's far away the noo, and so ye may " As well gie's oor bit story quick, and then " We'll gang to bed in gunyah ower the way, " For time's a reiver, and is weel on ten, " And we maun rise the morn by caundle leight, " For they auld yowes are drappin fast the neight." 33. " Well, thin," quoth Pat, " I wish ye'd hould yis jaw, " Or kape yis tongue shtill wid a clout-head nail, " And thin I'll tell ye how / afther saw " The hounds, an' hare, and hunther wid the tail ! " As thro' the counthry side one night they tore " In a big shtorm ov lightning an' ov hail, " Ov which same, me an' Phil, we got our fill " Whin boultin' from the thraps to hide our shtill." 34. Well, to their shtory Phil and Paddy shtuck, Whin quishtiond be the boys whin all wis right, But did not thry agin to run a muck Wid Ned an' Nick ! They got a mortial fright ! Indade they did not think it promis'd luck To be too near that silf-same house at night, For 'twis thim worthies, they would shtoutly swear, Wis huntin' Nid's poor wife in shape of hare. 54 35. And sure now wo belavod thim, for imlade That innocint poor crature tuck to bed Tliat virry night, in troth ! an' there she stay'd, Wid bad pain in her back an' swimmin head ! While her shwate face to dead carpse-white did fade Whin cryin' to hersilf her woniin said And her two eyes would shtart, like fri^hten'd hare's, At creakin noises on the ould oak shtairs ! 36. The praste she wantid thin, but Nid said, " No ! " Come to yis juty, if ye likes, to me ! " If praste comes here, (and thin he laugh'd, Ho ! ho !) " 'Tis glad his riverince will likely be " To git outside agin, for my boot's toe " Shall make the shtairs one shtip to him, dye see ! " For, be the < Rock of Cashel !' he shall rue " The day an' hour he dares to visit you !" 37. As darkest midnight thin his eyes grew black, And his poor lady shrank from his fierce eyes, While her own shwill'd till they did seem to crack, And, ! she give a cry, that rach'd the skies ! A cry like hare's sharp scrame, whin in her back She feels the greyhound's fangs, and quickly dies ! An' thin her wits for three long weeks did lave her, While it wis sid about she had brain faver. 38. But afther that the ginthry, one and all, Cut Nid McGan, and would not shpake to him ; And if they chanced to meet him at a ball Or racecoorse, sure their eyes got mighty dim : They didn't see him ! which made him feel small, And want to put a ball in some of thim ; And he'd ha' done it too, for he could shnuff A candle wid a bullet nate enough. 39. But faix, they did'nt give him half a chance To lit the daylight into thim, bedad ! They knew he'd virry likely make thim dance An ugly stip ; for once before, a lad He had shot dead, in some hotel in France, For thramping on a dressing-gownd he had, Wid tails that draggled half a yard or more Behind him whin he walked acrass the floore. 55 40. The chap he killed wis a young Englishman, Jist out upon his thravels, so they say, A younger son of some great nobleman ; And at his death there wis the deuce to pay, His people thrying hard to git McGan Hung or transpoorted ; but he ran away To Spain, or Portingale, or India, And stayed there till the row had died away. 41. But while he wis abroad, the ould man died, And lift him all his property in Clare, Wid a fine fortin in the bank beside, By rason that he had no other heir ; And Nid invited all the counthry side To come and have a grate housewarmin' there ; And thim most sit agin him which was funny Seemed his bist friends whin he came to his money. 42. And thin he married, but could not agree Wid his poor lady, as I said afore ; And thin, 'twas worse as ye might think, whin ye Tuck to that girl, whom on some furrin shore He'd seen too many times afore, maybe, For his own good ; 'tis sartin no one saw Her in thim parts, till wid a caravan She came, some tin months afther Nid McGan. 43. And thin he lit her have a splendid cot, Wid a fine gardin and a pratie patch, In a nice, quiet, purty little shpot ; And sure himsilf did often raise the latch, No doubt wid that dark gipsy queen to plot ; And there wis thim as said that cottage thatch Was as unburnable as stone or brick, For they had thried it wid a lighted shtick, 44. And 'twouldn't catch ; oh, no, it wouldn't light, It was bewitched, they said ; I think so, too, For that girl wis a witch, and rode at night Upon a broomstick, wid the demon crew That hauntid Nid's poor wife. I caught a sight Of her, as past like lightning on she flew, Giving a scrame like Banshee's boding cry, Jist at the moment whin she bundled by. 56 45. And now I'll tell ye how I came to see That divil's hunt on that same shtormy night. Ye ricolict me saving Phil and me Had got a shtill, and made some of the right Sort of poteen rare stuff it used to be ; We tippled lashings, and shtill sold a sight To boys that kipt the sheebeen shops about, Until, bad luck to it ! we got found out ! 46. Into thim parts the gangers sildom came, Or if they did, they ginerally wint Away much quicker, if not dead or lame ; They moshtly having a presintimint That they wis likely to be shot like game ; And with the same benivolint intint That is to make a hash of thim, but not By manes of aither fryingpan or pot. 47. Until one time there came a lameter ; A bully boy he wis, an' no mishtake ! And his short lig did not the laste deter His thrampin off to ivry fair and wake, Attindid always by a crass-brid cur An ugly baste, that look'd as if he'd take A leg of mutton from a butcher's shop, . Or wantin that, a beefsteak or a chop. 48. His master used a shtick uncommon nate ; If he got mixed up into any row Wid friend or inimy, he'd sure to thrate Him to a tidy tashte of it ; somehow He seem'd to know jist where to tap a pate To floore his man. I think I see him now Giving his shprig an illigant twisht round, Whin, sure, a boy or two would bite the ground. 49. All thought he wis a pidlar whin he came Around their firsht, for thin he had a pack Wid knives and ribbins, rhubarb and could crame, Scint, small tooth-combs, and any shmall nick-nack As women buy, but which I need not name ; But this I'll say, him and his shiny sack Wis always wilcome in ache wayside sheelin, For he wis free and asy in his dalin ; 57 50. And wis, beside, a jolly chap, for he Could dhrink poteen, and fight wid any lad I've seen out here, or in the ould counthry ; And the desateful beggar always had A friendly way wid him as if, maybe, He'd been your mate for years thro' good and bad ; And had no ind of yarns, how the Excise He'd chated, right afore their virry eyes. 51. In fact, the villin once declared to me He did be lamed whin fighting wid the thraps Upon the coast of England whin, d'ye see, He thried to run a lot of fine Dutch schnaps, Besides tobaccy, and some fillagaree That the great ginthry put in their caps I mane the ladies, bliss their sowls whin they Attind the praste, to give thimsilves away ; 52. And sure now, now I think of it, they call It Brusshell's lace 'tis mighty scarce I hear ; And landin' it, this chap he got a ball Into his knee, which cost the fellow dear Who fired the shot, for he in turn did fall, Niver agin a cuther taut to steer ! For sure the pidlar said, right thro' the head He put a pistol ball, and kill'd him dead. 53. And thin, with all his mates got clare off, for They fought for life, and kipt the thraps at bay Until their lugger, running close in shore, Tuck thim on board, and made all sail away, Not caring thin to sittle up the score ; For will they knew their nicks would have to pay For their night's work, if they fell in the claws Of thim hell-hounds that carry out the laws ; 54. And as it was, the crature said that they Was almost run down by a revenue, And only jist conthrived to git away In a tremenjus heavy squall, that blew The cuther's topsail clane into the say, And sthrained her mast so badly that her crew To fish the spar had all their hands full quite, And lost the lugger in the dirty night. 58 55. She made nixt day the friendly coast of Franco, But where about I disremembere now, And lift the lametcr to take his chance ; His shipmates caring very little how, So that thimsilves got clare and did not dance On nothing for their share in that night's row ; Thin takin in some brandy, made a shtart, To thry their fortin in some other part, 56. Laving the chap at a small wine shop, where A praste from the ould counthry found him out, Thin tuck him home and docthor'd him wid care, Till his wound haling, he could git about, Whin he gave him sich coin as he could spare, His blissin, and a Frenchified rig out ; For which he kindly thanked him, tuck his hand, And found his way back to ould Ireland. 57. Bad luck to him, for a big lying villin ! And him a blashted ganger all the while ! He wis so kindly thrated in each sheelin ; Sure, even now, it raises up my bile To think how he found out each private shtill in The villages around for miny a mile, And how he wint away, but soon kern back Wid a full score of peelers in his thrack. 58. But sorra one he cought tho', afther all, For Phil's wife's sister (Honor Mooney) got Her man one of the " thraps " jist to lit fall The saycret of the dirty ganger's plot ; Thin, unbeknownst to him, she sint a shmall Gossoon to tell us all to hide aich pot, And worm, and head, and all our maut away, For the excise would be on us nixt day. 59. We work'd away that night, ye may depind, Thramping wid loads of maut upon our backs, To hide among the shtones ; there wis no ind Of thim upon the hills, besides big cracks BeMine the rocks, which shtrangors could not find, Excipt be chance, or running up our thracks ; No asy matther, tho' a gauger's eye Is, like thase dirty nsi.^un-s', horrid shpry ! 59 60. While Phil and me wis gitting all things shnug, A big black cloud rose in the western sky, And brewed a shtorm, while we two brewed a jug Of whiskey punch, wherewid to wit our eye, Afore we wid the pot and worm did jog ; We tippled that, and as we shtill felt dhry, We thried another, jist as Paddy Flinn Flung back the doore, and out of breath rushed in. 61. " 'Tis asy ye are takin it," sez he, " And all thim thraps a coming up the road." " The thraps ?" sez we. " I'm not desaving ye, " They're handy now, and that big skulkin toad, " The ganger's at their head ; and now, maybe, " Ye won't be long in taking up yer load " And thramping wid it ; but now, be me sowl, " Jist listen to the thunder roar and grovd. !" 62. " A purty night ye'll have, so dhrink yer grog, " I'll help ye wid the same. t Here's to ye now !' " A plisint journey to yez round the bog, " And don't be rowling in it like a sow ; " Ye've got the worm ? have up the pot now, jog, " 'Tis time ye did ! Och ! murther ! hear the row " They are makin up the village ; be the noise, " The thraps are at a scrimmage with the boys !" 63. He boulted down his grog, thin boulted out, The lightning flashing fiercely through the doore, Which blinded Phil, and made him reel about And dhrop the pot down on the shanty floore, Whin crack it wint, not being over stout, And there we lift it, for 'twis past all cure ; Besides, in ividence it would not tell, Widout they got the head and worm as well. 64. Away we wint, and soon the noise behind Wis dhrowned in the peltin of the shtorm, The growling tundher and the howlin wind ; But with the grog in us to kape us warm We thramped along, tho' often nearly blind Afther a flash of lightning showed the form Of all the counthry round, thin lift it dark As it would be at night in Noah's ark ! 60 65. We got on fine for the first mile or so, By rason of the finces, lift and right. And thought we'd soon be where we wished to go, For sure the head and worm wis only light, And handy things to carry ; for ye know A wooden " head," so that it is does fit tight And doesn't lit the stame out, is as good As if 'twis cast ; and this same one wis wood. 66. The worm wis of shquare pipe, and made of tin, Which answers jist as will as copper, and 'Tis much more asy to be got ; and thin We wanted chape and useful things, not grand Expinsive ones, and did not care a pin For their appearance, so that they would slitand Some wear and tear, and brew the sort of shtuff To raise the sowl of any but a muff. 67. But to me shtory : all at once the rain Lift off, and one or two bright shtars shone out Jist as we enthered on a sort of plain Of heath and bog, and as we had no doubt The shtorm would soon be coming on again, We lighted our dudheens, and looked about To see if we wis follow'd, and to take A lunar observation, so to shpake, 68. And findin all wis clare, we thought we might As will turn off to old Tim Rooney's cot Up in the hills, a short stip to the right From the main thrack, and see what he had got By way of tipple, and to shtay the night Wid him, if anything like whiskey hot Wis to be had, our damp insides to air, While our ould coats wis dhrying on a chair 69. Afore a good turf fire ; but " O, ulloo !" Says Phil, while thramping up a steepish hill, " Look at thim lights out on the bog below, " And, holy mother ! listen to that yill ! " 'Tis Nid McGan again and Nick, I know, " Come wid a clutch of imps, Irish out of hell, " To hunt Nid's wife ;" but 'fore he could say more, The shtorm bursht on M.irin wid hm-rid roar. 61 70. The lightning ran along the ground like flame, The tundher rowled as if the clouds would fall, While out of thim, like pibblc shtones there came A heavy fall of hail, that did bate all I iver see before ; beside the same A flight of good-sized bin's eggs would be shmall ; And whin Phil hild the worm to save his hat, They in a jiffy bather'd it quite flat. 71. On came the howlin and the scrames more near, And Phil sit up a horrid yilling chorus ; And thin a big brown hare, half mad with fear, And eyes that shone like shtars, ran close afore us, While afther her, above the ground quite clear, Came on the hellish pack, which might have tore us In half a jiffy into smitthereens, And ate us, sowl and body, widout greens. 72. On wint the hell-hounds wid a mighty yowlin, While a shtrong slimcll of sulphur floated round, On wint Ould Nick and Nid McGan all scrowlin Upon us as we cowered on the ground ; Whiz wint that gipsey on a broomshtick, bowlin Like a big scrache owl, wid a rushin sound Till jist above us, whin a scrame she gave Would scare a dacent corpse out of its grave ! 73. The tundher rattled and the lightning flashed Down came the hail, I think a thrifle harder, So did a big oak-tree, by lightning smasb'd, Which nearly shtop'd meself from goin farder ; While in the-dork'ness on the demons dashed To grab the hare for their infernal larder. I look'd at Phil, and Phil he look'd at me, And both wis white as dirty min could be. 74. On wint the hunt till out of sight and hearing, And wid it, too, the shtorm soon pass'd away, And one by one, betune the dark clouds peerin, The shtars came out wid bright and plasing ray ; Thin, as no imps or gangers wis appearm, We to ould Kooney's cottage tuck our way ; And as the bather'd worm could not be minded, We threw it in a big hole, and so hided 62 75. All cause for running from the gangers ; so We stipt out quickly for Tim Rooney's cot, And in five minutes more wis all the go, Afore a good shin-roaster, blasin hot, A tellin him what ye already know, About the divil's hunt and ganger's plot ; Thin dhrank poteen, till rowling off the form We dream'd of divils, ganger's, and the shtorm. END OF PAT MURPHY'S STORY. " But listen ! be the holy fly " There is the same infernal cry " That I heerd by that quakin'bog !" Said Mac, " It is a dang'd wild dog " Close to the yard ; hark ! there again, " And Spot and Rover's on the chain !" Which said, he opened wide the door, And gave vent to a lusty roar ; Then rush'd to where the dogs on chain Strove hard their liberty to gain, Giving the dingoes howl for howl, And now and then a bark or growl. He loos'd them quickly, off they went, Seeming on dingocide intent, Close followed by old Mac and Pat ; The latter minus coat or hat, But with a stick stuck in his fist, A thing few skulls could well resist, When wielded by the pliant wrist Of him who was the boy to dig Potatoes, or to wield a sprig Of blackthorn at a dacent wake, To break a friend's head by mistake ; (But that was e'er he left the land Of peace and praties old Ireland). Y'-t still he liked to have one by, If merely up the flue to dry ; For a stout stick, with knotty end, He always looked on as a friend : But as for coaxing you to tread I*] mil his coat, so that your hrad 63 Might so be duly qualified To have its strength and thickness tried, By introduction to that waddy, Had not been lately tried by Paddy. But now when starting, his hand sought His caubeen, but the waddy caught, And seeming satisfied with that, He forthwith rushed out, minus hat Or jumper, tho' the night was keen, But did not catch a cold, I ween, Nor any other thing that night ; For neither tame dog cared to fight The wild ones, which oft made a stand, Until the men were close at hand, Then, with raised bristles and slow gait, They trotted on, again to wait For those two curs, and seemed to jeer At them, and taunt them to come near, And try their prowess in a fight Beneath the stars' uncertain light ; But Spot and Rover e'er to-night Had learn'd that dingoes snap and bite In such a disagreeable manner, As to make worthless to a tanner The skins they tore ; and furthermore, The wounds would long continue sore : For poison lurks their teeth around, To canker each deep gaping wound They tear in dog, or timid sheep ; And so our cowards thought they'd keep Out of harm's way, and this they did, Altho' old Mac and Paddy bid Them " hould him !" till they both were sick Of bawling ; and Pat shook his stick, And vowed he'd " give thim dogs a batin, " If they for him would jist be watin !" He'd " lave thim in a purty plight ;" And furthermore, that " not a bite " Of supper should they get that night ;" But they took every kind of care The wild dogs should not raise their hair. Dingoes will kill for slaughter sake, And often a great havoc make Among a flock of sheep, and slay A number in a reckless way, 64 To drink their blood, but not to eat The mutton ; so a stock of moat Is left for curs, which else would find Themselves to hunger oft consigned, Because a fruitful married pair Must exercise no little care To make a forty-pound old ewe Feed for a week their hungry crew ; And so two dogs, on paunch and head, Can't be considered over-fed ! In fact, they often want a meal Of victuals, if they do not steal Food for themselves or catch a rat And then, if caught, they're thrash'd for that ! And thus I think I've proved right well That each cute canine sentinel Should claim the dingo as a friend, And soundly sleep, or else pretend To do so, till the slinking beast Has slain sufficient for a feast ! Then wake to sound, and scent, and sight, And rouse the echoes of the night With warning bark, and savage growl, And melancholy long-drawn howl, Which, striking on the shepherd's ear, Apprises him of wild dogs near ! Yet though their masters use them ill, The shepherds' dogs are faithful still ; Ho, in reverse, they all begin To make a most tremendous din Directly they can smell or hear A friendly dingo prowling near, Thus fully warning ev'ry one Before the slightest harm is done ; And so they lose, by their hot haste, Full many a good mutton feast ! But lest my readers' patience fail, Causing them to consign this talc To a warm corner in the Derate, And wish me some such pleasant fate, I'll quickly shift back to old Mac, Friend Paddy, and the canine pack, Who now far from the hut had j*ot, Altho' the chase was much less hot ; For l)oth the men began to find 65 That they were falling far behind, Also that both were out of wind, And that it would be useless quite To follow up the chase that night, So called the dogs, for fear that they Might get a poison'd bait, which lay Beside a circular bush-yard With woven fence, built high to guard The weakly lambs, which else had been An easy prey to dingoes keen. For often in this dry hot clime Feed is so scarce at lambing time, That save dry grass or herbage sear, The produce of a former year, The sheep can nothing else obtain On scrubby hill or saltbush plain, And e'en for that they have to stray Some three miles from the yard each day ; So lambs, a few hours only old, Are much to weak to reach the fold, And what is more, they will not try, As they, in fact, would rather die Than freely walk the homeward road ; For each long-legged bleating toad In obstinacy far surpasses The most pig-headed mules or asses : For switch them smartly as you will, They will run back or stand stock still, And while you well belabour one, The other little wretches run In all directions, though the sun Declares his daily duty done ; But heedless quite they race away, To be pick'd up some time next day, Minus their intestines and breath, For they run to the jaws of death Or dingoes it is much the same, Differing merely in the name. 0, Job ! if you with your own hand, Join'd with your brown-skinn'd shepherd band, To drive the pertinacious lambs And their most perverse stupid dams Home to the fold at eventide, When from the rugged mountain side Came down the famished lion's roar, Which made the sweat from every pore 66 Stream with anxiety and fear : While ewes and lambs ran there and here, And tried what scattering would do To lose of lambs a goodly few. //"then yon kept your temper cool, And called no one a something fool ! Nor kicked the lambs, nor swore amain, When half the ewes broke back again, J say, yon earned your appellation Of Man most patient since creation. But then the sheep of eastern breed Were very different indeed, And varied much in many ways From their descendants of these days ; In fact, I've heard that shepherds led Their flocks, and stalking at their head Would, gaily piping on a reed, Conduct them to their daily feed, And, never getting in a plight, Would march them home to roost at night. I'd like to learn their method, for, As I write this, my feet are sore From running after, not before, Three mobs of ewes and lambs that would Race everywhere but where they should ; Trying most stubbornly all day To get boxed up or else astray ; As I myself have, by the way, Strayed from my story, for I find I've left my subject far behind ; And so friend Mac and Pat we'll send Home to the hut, their yarns to end, And tie the sheep-dogs up, if they Can only catch them by the way. And now, to make all matters plain, I must retrace my steps again To where those dingoes twain that night First heard the sound and saw the light, Which then occasioned them to pause, Altho' they knew right well the cause Of both yet on their hams they sat To have a little canine chat A consultation how to act In case they chanc'd to be attacked And to decide upon the way 67 To reach unseen the fold's gateway, At which a lamb or two, they thought, Might very easily be caught, If some (as lambs will often do) Had left their ewes and scrambled thro' Between the hurdle-bars to play, Not having had enough all day ; Then, once outside, their eyes grow dim, Or else they think themselves less slim Like " ^Esop's weasel," that when thin Crept thro' a hole into a bin, Where eating wheat till he grew fat, (Queer for a weasel to do that !) Could not repass the slender crack, To tread again the homeward track ; And so these lambs (tho' nought but air They feed upon while playing there) Find it insuperably hard To win back safely to their yard ! A camel thro' a needle's eye Could enter just as easily ! They wriggle forth, and, once outside, No friendly space, however wide, Entices them to enter, when They would be safer in the pen ; And so they run about and bleat, A very tempting dish of meat, To lure the ever watchful eye Of some gaunt wild dog prowling nigh. Of this those dingoes were aware, For both had sev'ral times been there, And had arrested, there and then, Some foolish lambs outside the pen ; An habeas corpus writ served they, Which proved those lambs a lawful prey To Nature's sanguinary laws, Administered by teeth and claws ; Laws which doom helpless creatures all Before those fiercer beasts to foil, Which shun the light, and prowl by night, With this their motto " Might is Right !" Our dingo friends then thought of Spot, And tho' they did not care a jot For him or Hover, yet they knew There'd be a terrible to do ; 68 If they should smell their pleasant scent, Spoiling their villanons intent l>y bringing noisy fellows out To run like " red shanks " and to shout, Also to see that all the lambs Were in the yard beside their dams, And so frustrate with noisy clatter Our dingoes' efforts to grow latter ; Therefore they soon agreed that they Should take a circuitous way, So as to get the hill behind, And thus approach against the wind, Then carefully they gain'd the yard, Prowling around, unseen, unheard, Only to have their patience tried, By finding not a lamb outside ; Which so upset the bitch's temper, That she set up a peevish whimper ; And as a pair of gaping jaws In church or chapel is the cause Of setting others gaping too, In yawn on yawn, from pew to pew, Until, affecting e'en the parson, His face divides, and makes it pass on To the grave deacon and gravedigger, Who stretch their jaws with utmost rigour ; So howling, with the canine race, With that phenomenon keeps pace ; Then ere the sound quite died away, Her mate took up the dismal lay, Which rising high in cadence shrill, Rang mournfully o'er plain and hill ; And tho' it might have pleas' d them both, It wrung from Mac that sudden oath, Followed by his and Paddy's noise, Joined in with vigour by the boys ; Added to which the dogs on chain Gave each a most discordant strain, Till with a horrid uproar wild, The startled welkin was defiled ! And then that wild-goose chase began, In which men, dogs, and dingoes ran, Only to halloo, snarl, and ban ; For nothing suffered hurt or death, ( Saving a little loss of breath), As I before tried to explain, So will not touch on it again, 69 But keep in view those dingoes twain, They still kept up a slinging trot, Their tongues loll'd out (for they were hot), With lower'd tail and heaving flank, Until they reach'd a gum creek's bank, On which a small erection stood, Formed of short unhewn logs of wood, Which, planted as a pallisade, A sort of strong, stout kennel made ; To form the roof more logs were placed, Which, like the others, were not faced ; And on these blocks of rock were stack'd, To keep all steady and compact ; A sliding door there once had been To close the end, for still were seen The grooves and lever, which of yore Sustained and work'd the fatal door. The whole resembled a device Once used at home for catching mice, Before the block, with holes indented, And fatal springes were invented ; And this one (baited with a scrap Of mutton) was a dingo trap ; Or rather, he who built it meant It for one, but his kind intent Was frustrated by reason that The wild dogs rather " smelt a rat ;" For tho' their tracks were often found Imprinted thickly all around, They r-irely caused the door to fall ; The artful " varmints," one and all, Distrusted both the trap and bait, And trotted off, e'ere 'twas too late ; So that like every antiquated Useless invention, it was fated To fall into disuse and ruin, When it of dogs had had but few in ; For then nux vomica came out, Was boil'd with meat and strew'd about, (Killing no end of shepherd's dogs, And gave a turn to some few hogs), But did not poison many dingoes, Who would much rather eat blue pingoes Or 'possums, for to them no treat Was visible in parboiled meat ; (Tho' there are bushmen who still say That in boiled liver is the way 70 To lay the poison, so that all The dogfl which come that way may fall Victims to confidence misplaced, In choosing provender by taste) ; But to return to dogs betrayed Xux vomica was not long laid, Till strychnine (from the self-same bean), More deadly, portable, and clean, Came into universal use, And tliis with death ne'er holds a truce ; For dingoes swallowing a grain, Yield not again to hunger's pain ! But to return to our two dogs They scratched and sniffed around those logs As tame ones in a friendly host Hold solemn levee round a post ; And then they squatted on their hams, To muse upon the meat of lambs. Then up and spake that dingo grim, In language plain enough for him, .V vile patois, which I opine Is 'twixt the canine and lupine, Which nobody would understand E'en if I had it at command ; And so in English I will write What that old wild dog said that night. But e'er I do, I can't resist Railing at authors who insist On quite astonishing the weak Nerves of their readers with choice Greek Or Gallic extracts, which they might Judiciously keep out of sight, For these most readers do appal, As broken bottles on a wall Small longing urchins, who would fain The inside of the garden gain, To revel on the fruit they see, But fear the sure phlebotomy That would attend their enterprise ; And so those words to readers' eyes, Present an obstacle, which they Can not surmount, and so they say, " Confound the fellow ! what a bore ! " What did he put this French in for ! " We think with mischievous intent, " It really is no ornament 71 " Or use, except it be, indeed, " Unlearned readers to impede, " And air his erudition deep, " Wish to goodness he would keep " His hard words to himself, and give " In English his plain narrative." So shall the dingoes' talk- by me In plainest English written be, (Especially, as French or Greek, Latin or Hebrew I can't speak, And, therefore, it is very clear I cannot give you any here, Which may, perhaps, account for the Foregoing spiteful rhapsody.) And now for what that dingo said : He thus a fair beginning made ' Look ! Lupulina, at that trap, ' For which we never cared a rap ; 1 Mankind must really have thick skulls ' To think that we should be such gulls, ' As to be taken in and sold ' By such a thing ! we are too old, " And know a thing or two too much " To be betrayed by such a hutch, " Which mars the scenery around, " And should be levelled with the ground ; " Besides, it will soon pass away, " A prey to fire or swift decay, (" Tho' white ants will not near it go, " They like not salt soak'd pine you know " A sandal wood would please them better) " But what the mischief is the matter ? " Why do you whimper in that way ? " Do let me know at once, I pray." " Matter, indeed," the bitch replied, " My patience you have sorely tried " With your extremely stupid chatter ; " And then to ask what is the matter ? " Well, then, beyond the slightest question, " I suffer not from indigestion, " Nor am I likely to, I fear, " If you intend to dawdle here. " I thought you said, as we came up, " You knew where we could go and sup " On tenderest of dainty lamb " I think that story was all flam, 72 Invented merely to deceive me ; " So now just listen, and believe me. " If I am destined thus to wait " In vain for supper, sure as fate " I'll leave you for another mate ! " A common practice with the whites, " When wives are cheated of their rights, " And maintenance is one I'm sure ; " You know the case, devise the cure." " Indeed, my dear," the dog replied, But with a look which quite belied The quiet language he employed, (For he was really much annoyed At this spiteful interruption, Which caused the most complete destruction Of the complacent self-esteem With which lie had pursued his theme ; Causing it from its niche to fall, And him to feel extremely small And rather vexed, and so no doubt Would you yourself, if dining out, Inspired by best of wine and meat You spouted what yourself thought neat, But which some nasty, ill-bred fellow, Made cross by wine instead of mellow, Cuts up, till in a fit of rage You'd kill him, only for his age !) " Indeed, my dear ! you should not blame " Me for the scarcity of game ! " I know that hunger's hard to bear, " But then, you must be well aware " That I have hunted since sunset " A meal of game or lamb to get " For you ; but through adverse events " And / must add your petulance, " In whining, when we might have made " Upon the lambs a famous raid ; " And now to lay all blame on me " I say, and really think to be " Injustice, very hard to bear ! " You don't mean what you say, my dear." Replied the bitch, " I do indeed, " And as I stand far more in need " Of supper than your idle talk, 73 (" Which I hate worse than Jews hate pork !) " I think you now had better start " Except you wish that we should part " And so exert your every sense, " And let us have no more pretence " About the scarcity of game, " When 'tis yourself that is to blame." " There, that will do," replied her mate, " 'Twill hurt you in your present state " To get into a passion so ; " I think we may as well now go " To that small yard I spoke about, " At which I've not the slightest doubt " A lamb or two have been left out." He waited not for her reply, But struck into a sheep-track nigh, Followed by his cara sposa, Both intent to see or nose a Ewe or lamb, or aught beside With woolly skin or hairy hide ; For anything in shape of meat Those hungry dogs would kill and eat ; But they saw nothing, till the dog Began to sniff, and said " Some prog " Of a high odour he could smell." The bitch, she whimpered, and said " Well, " Why don't you follow up the scent ?" He said " All right," and off he went, But all at once exclaim'd " Look here " At this big trail ; 'tis rather queer, " No beast I know a track would make " Like this, except a booming snake ; " And tho' 'tis not a reptile smell, " I think it would be just as well " To keep your eyes wide open, dear ; " That is, we ought not to go near " Until we can quite plainly see " What kind of creature it may be." " There, do leave off," replied his mate, " Don't talk such stuff ; you know I hate " To hear you prate such nonsense vile, " But you can't help it, 'tis your style ; " Right well you know no snake of size " Inhabits here ; tho' to your eyes 74 " They be of vast and horrid shape, " You wretched, chicken-hearted ape. " Proceed at once, and don't you dear me ; " Quick march, I say, do you not hear me ?" " Well, yes, I rather think I do ; " Who could escape from hearing you ? " Would that your tongue within your head " Was close confined, or I were dead, " Or deaf as any blue gum tree, " That I might 'scape the misery " Of hearing your eternal nag, " You execrable, spiteful hag ; " Whate'er I do, whate'er I say, " To pleasure you in any way, " Appears to your distemper'd sight " In an unfavourable light ; " 'Tis truly said, that ' evil folks " ' See evil in all facts or jokes ;' " And now, if from me you would part, " I will say yes with all my heart." Now, as this did not suit the book Of his dear spouse, she put a look Of tender trouble in her eyes, Where water seemed about to rise, And murmur'd " Ah ! you cruel creature, " I did not think 'twas in your nature " To taunt me, when so delicate " I am in this my present state : " When really you ought not to heed " My little temper, for indeed " I'm always sorry afterward ; " And so I trust you'll not be hard " With me this time, and I will be " A pattern of propriety." Of course the dog was near gain'd o'er, Tho' feeling still a little sore ; And so he said " There, that's enough," As if he yet were in a huff : But at the same time going on, Quite evidently bent upon Finding a supper of fresh meat For his most amiable mate, Who thought it prudent to abstain From saying aught against the grain At least, until she could obtain 75 The supper she was longing for That is, a young lamb taken raw. And so she trotted silently Behind her shaggy mate, while he Employed his ears, his nose, and eyes To find the much-desired prize ; And soon he said " A track I see, " Which from its shape appears to me " To be that of the raw-boned Scot, " Who makes the place for us too hot, " And to his flock sticks like a burr, " Attended by his surly cur " Which stirs the lambs up when asleep, " And keeps them moving with the sheep, " So that when supper-time comes round " We vainly beat o'er all the ground. " And now 'tis very clear to me " That this queer trail, which here we see, " Is from a ewe, which this same Mac " Has dragged along upon its back " To tie up to a bush or stake, " Because her lamb she would not take : " I saw him serve a ewe that way " When I chanc'd here the other clay ! " Then thinking (as I should) of you, " Resolved at once to save the two " From future fatal butcher's knife, " By quickly ridding them of life " In nature's quiet kindly way, " Directly Mac should go away. " I got no chance he stayed all day, " And then to make the case more hard, " He drove the weak lambs to the yard, " Loosing the ewe which joined the flock " The lamb he thrust into his smock ; " Then making that tall hurdle tight, " He drove the flock home for the night, " Leaving me here to beat the plain " For a long time, of course, in vain. " But here the track turns off again " And see ! depending from that bush " Is a large kidney, nice and fresh, " And which, within most easy reach, " Is red and juicy as a peach ; " And as 'tis merely a small bite, " You take it." She replied" All right." 76 She made a snap, which cut the twine, One bite to taste, and vowed 'twas fine ; Less hasty would she have been then, Had she divined that crafty men Had strychnine sprinkled in its heart Or rather, in its inside part Like to the ashes at the core Of apples on the Dead Sea shore ; So pleasant to the passer's eye ; So filthy, if their taste he try ; But this the bitch knew not, and so, As I just said, she was not slow In making that fine kidney skip Into her stomach, as would slip A medlar into that of pig, Or oyster down the throat of prig ; But no bad taste could she detect, And therefore did not then suspect Her danger ; and so urged her mate To go in search of other meat. So off they trotted on the track Of sheep's fresh paunch, which canny Mac Had dragg'd in spreading circle round The yard, thus leaving on the ground An odorous and potent clue, Intended to lead dingoes to A poison'd kidney or a tongue, Which by a piece of twine is hung About a foot above the ground On any bush that may be found, When the drag-bait is drawn around, So that the spotted native cats, Bush mice, or active leaping rats Can not detach it and convey It to some place, where it next day Might be picked up by " Spot " or " Bob "- To him a melancholy job. Those dingoes swiftly ran the track, Which led them nearly to the back Of that brush-yard, where stiff and cold Lay a small larnb, some two days' old. " There is your meal," the wild dog said ; The bitch was silent, but she laid Upon its neck her grimy paw, And tore its side with ruthless jaw ; 77 Then drawing out, began to eat What dingoes all prefer to meat ; That is the liver with the gall ; In fact, the whole of the offal, Including chitterlings and caul. And as she ate voraciously, Her mate began to fear that he Should very likely fare but ill If he politely waited till The bitch had finished her repast, And so began to break his fast, Contriving to secure the heart, Which chanced to be the poison'd part ; In fact, he found a bitter taste, But did not heed it in the least, So keen was he for that fell meal, That was his deadly fate to seal. And both so busy were that they Permitted not the least delay For observation, or regard Of ewes, excited in the yard ; Which, rushing madly to one side, With starting eyes and nostrils wide, Shrill whistling, showed the abject fear, They always feel with dingoes near. But all at once the bitch cried, " Oh ! " There's something wrong with me, I know ; " I really am in horrid pain, " And will not touch a lamb again ;" Which said, with somersault and bound She beat herself against the ground ; Her blood-stain'd teeth were lock'd full tight, Her grinning lips left them in sight ; Upon her side she lay at length, Her rigid limbs were shorn of strength, Her eyes were set with backward stare, Convulsions' foam-flakes stain'd her hair ; Near to death's door she seem'd to be, Terrific in her agony, And thus, with muscles fixed she lay, Until the first fit pass'd away. The dingo left the blood-stain'd bones, And listened mutely to her moans, But quickly found in his own mouth 78 A bitter and a burning " droutli," Which made him long for water more Tli an ho for lamb had craved before ; While horrid pains his vitals rending, A dark, ensanguined foam was blending With the lamb's blood, which to his eyes No longer was an envied prize ; And once or twice he tried to howl, But from his stiff en'd, upturn'd jowl A quaver wild alone arose, As if his life was near its close. But the sharp fit in which both lay Did shortly pass from them away, But left a burning pain behind iSo fierce, that neither felt inclined To tax the other with the blame Of having lighted up the flame, Which like a jagged two-edged knife, Was severing their cords of life ; For both with fits were seized again, And death usurped the place of pain. At early morning came old Mac With eager eyes upon the track To hunt along the trail he'd dragg'd, And see what " varmints " he had bagg'd ; And how he chuckled when he saw Those dogs, whose thievery was o'er. " You wratches, you are dead," quoth he ; "Your tails are worth five bob to me, " And you will look much better dockit ;" Which said, from out his trousers pocket He drew a long, keen clasp-knife, and Above the dingoes took his stand ; And then, with vicious slashes cut Off each one's tail close to the butt ; Then spurn'd the stumps, so cold and gory, And with that action ends this story. 79 THE THUNDERSTORM. A TRUE STORY. I lie on my stretcher with wakeful eye, For the storm outside is no lullaby, And I feel no approach, I must confess, Of light-finger' cl slumber's benign caress ! But bother my brains with the cares of life ; Sufficient for me tho' I have no wife ! But see ! by the glare of that vivid flash How those scare-crow forms for my log-hut dash ! And list to the patter of naked feet As they splash along in their swift retreat From the pelting rain which the clouds throw down On those luckless heads, as tho' they would drown All nature at least on the Western Plain ! So its ancient lords would a shelter gain More potent than that which their wurlies give ; (For these all leak like a coarse mesh'd seive,) And thus they are bent on a night with me An honour indeed of the last degree ! Their goal soon gain'd, they grope for the latch, While a flood pours down from the rain-soak'd thatch ; So, rising at once, I fling wide the door, And the lightning gleams on the flagstone floor ; When the natives frighten'd and wet I ween In the fitful glare show a pale pea-green As they puff at the brands in the chimney-place, And range themselves round with no studied grace. For, jabbering glibly amongst themselves, They look like a crew of dark demon elves, With their deep set eyes and glittering teeth Shining out, their shaggy black locks beneath, As they squat on the flags like toads or frogs ; While mix'd in between are their mangy dogs, And pups are produced from I don't know where By wrinkled old gins with the greatest care ; When I savagely say " You turn 'em out " All about wilka*, or else, without doubt, " Into the cowief the lot of you go !" (At the same thrusting a leg from below * Dog. t Bain. 80 The blankets, as if about to perform MY threat of driving them out in the storm.) But my words avail, for with cropp'd-in tail Forth go those vile curs to the storm and gale ! 'Tis a motley crew that is squatting there, With steaming rags on the flagstones bare ! In family circles not fair to see, Though all of them smile as the talk runs free, Till I greatly fear that each occuput Will backward fall e'er the mouth can shut ! Hark ! a dusky brat with the stomach-ache Starts doing its best with its yells to wake The echoes which sleep round the cobwebs old, Festoon'd 'neath the roof by their spinners bold ; And it fiercely fights with its swart mamma, (Who wears widow's weeds for their late papa, Whose " carkata-peepa "* was crack'd, poor man, A short time since by his loving clan ! ) So I give the lone creature an ancient rug, And tell her the little one's mouth to plug With nature's own bottle (I might say jug !) Which she quickly does, and, to my delight, To the land of dreams the young imp takes flight ! Now a nice old man, with fine open face, Steps gingerly up to the chimney-place, (With nature's sole garb on his soul's black case !) And easily chats to the young gins there, While two or three brands he selects with care, And carries them off' as a reek ascends, And in graceful curls with the light steam blends ! Oh ! happy is he when a blaze springs up, (Which brings to light a small smuggled pup ;) But dashed from his lip is the cup of bliss For his fire, to me, comes rather amiss ; For though I put up with my friends so dirty, My eyes won't stand the sharp " erdla merty/'f So I tell that " poolka,"J as sure as fate, I'll turn him out at a double quick rate If he keeps the hut in this smoky state. He tries to raise a facetious whinney, " Him only a pe-ekanninny," Scull. t Wood smoke. $ Old man. 81 And " him big one warm," but I won't relent, So he tells his gin, with much discontent, To put back the sticks to the hearth again ; For he plainly thinks on that flooded plain No black or white, in his sense quite right, Would wish to pass such a terrible night ! And now my sweet guests, all whispering low, Declare 'tis Jemmy, they very well know, Who, out in his camp on the sand-hill near, Is up to his tricks for his lost wife dear ! The " wirra-wirra's "* fierce scathing flash, And the awful " arndoos "f volleying crash From the storm-vex'd clouds, are his work, 'tis plain, And the constant dash of the hissing rain ! And they say that " a big one poota "J next He'll raise to her manes when next he's vex'd ! But I try to explain, (though of course in vain), How the thunder, lightning, and heavy rain Can be caused by none save the Mighty One Who made the mountains, the clouds, and the sun Who breathed into man the first breath of life, Before to the world came sorrow and strife, When unknown was death, and the bright young earth Was filled with peace, plenty, and harmless mirth. But they hear with scorn all my reasons warm, And say it ivas Jemmy who raised the storm, And " tintoo " jump up, weather fair or foul, With that old man they will certainly growl. But as they begin to get warm and dry, Their longing for vengeance they soon lay by, For huddled together upon the floor They yield to sleep, and I hear no more, Save an occasional deep-toned snore, And, from the outside, the elements roar. But they are not pleasant lodgers, I trow, For a steam is arising from them now Of an odour certainly not the thing That floats about when the laughing spring Calls forth from their tangled wild hiding place The modestly beautiful floral race, Bespangled with gems by the morning dew, So gaily sipped by the butterfly crew, * Lightning. t Thunder. J Dost storm. $ The san. 82 But a horrible scent, which, to ray nose, is Tlu* very reverse of a bright fragrant posy's. And I'm very glad when old Sol again Rolls darkness away from the Western Plain, For the storm clouds hang o'er the eastern range With various forms and colouring strange, While the happy birds, in blithesome play, From rain-laden boughs shake showers of spray, And the kangaroos, in ungainly crews, Find the mud their efforts to hop confuse. So now my delightful lodgers I warn To quickly decamp from my bushland barn, When they and old Jemmy, without a grunt, Go off in a mob to a " coodla "* hunt, And the old woman comes with a sour face, And inwardly growls as she cleans the place. A DINGO HUNT. A TRUE STORY. 1. Upon a station, years ago, I lived as overseer : A situation, you must know, At which no one need sneer ; For hunting, tho' a pastime thought At home by sporting men. Was business to me, for I sought Each idle vagrant then. * Kangaroo. These are easily caught when the ground is boggy, as their toes sink in and throw them forward almost on their nose. 83 2. Which far from where it should have been, In safe and lawful thrall ; Searched eagerly for herbage green Beyond stern duty's call. I hunted up, which was no joke, The bullocks one and all, With likely steers to put in yoke, And cows with young calves small ; 3. The cows to grace a rustic bail, The calves in pen to fast, To bring their mothers to the pail, Themselves to take the last (And often very scanty) drop Of milk, the maids or men Leave, when drain'd udders bid them stop Till morning comes again. 4. I hunted up stray station steeds Which, poor and weak when lost, Would soon career o'er verdant meads With manes and tails high toss'd ; I hunted wethers and old ewes, I hunted weaners small ; I hunted too and did abuse The shepherds one and all 5. When they would leave the sheep and go Off home to nurse " the kids " (A name colonial, you know, For human chickabids ! Of whom their mothers are so proud : Small angels, minus wings, Who cry for ever, shrill and loud, The interesting things ! ) 6. Then on one sultry Sabbath mom, I am ashamed to say, I hunted tho' I lacked a horn, Foxhounds, and red coat gay A wild dog that I chanced to see, While running in two steers ; I vowed his tail my prize should be, I valued not his ears. 84 7. I never should have made that vow, But hied homo with my steers ; I was in fault, I see it now, In these my sober years ; But then, it was another case, I was but young ; and so Resolved at once to go the pace, And slay that shepherds' foe. 8. The facts, just as they did occur, To you I will relate ; Altho' no doubt you will concur In saying that the fate Which waited on my enterprise Was well deserved by me ; And that for aye by dust and flies I should tormented be 9. For breaking so the Sabbath-day With such ungodly sport ; And to be candid, I must say, I really think I ought ; But then, again, 'tis hard to shun Temptation in the guise Of a fine wild dog, that will run Right in before your eyes 10. When you are mounted on a prad, That can and will hit out : Tho' it be wrong, tho' it be bad, And wicked without doubt, You quite forget what day it is ; And as Sam Slick would say " Your dander being fairly riz, " You yell and put away." 11. You yell not at, nor put away Your evil impulse no ! You tickle up your bay, or grey, Give him his head and go After the dog like winking, or A shot, or what you will ; Of your great sin not thinking, for Your conscience then is still. 85 12. You only think how you shall knock The dingo on the head, And steer your horse clear of each rock, Each tree and sandy bed, And " crab-hole " which is worse than all The other things beside, And oft will cause a nasty fall To those who rashly ride ; 13. (For if a horse shall fairly set His fore feet into one, He turns a flying summerset, And comes down with a run : Most likely on his rider's back With horrid crushing force ; To test the strength of rib and back, There's nothing like a horse ! 14. This I with certainty can say, For I have tried it twice Or rather, I've been tried that way ; And did not find it nice ; For some six hundred-weight or more Upon one's carcass thrown, By old Sir Isaac Newton's law, Would make a giant groan.) 15. Upon one sultry Sabbath morn I went into the yard, Where horses stood, sans hay and corn A case you may think hard ; But they, like worms upon a hook, Get used to it no doubt, And so for feed they do not look Till to the bush let out. 16. But you will say I'm wasting time ; And so I to my story Will turn, and state ('twill help the rhyme) The sun, in all his glory, Was sailing in a sea of blue, Where not a cloud was seen, Just as the herbage, then in view, Show'd not one tint of green, 86 17. When I old Teaser bridled, and The saddle on him toss'd To get, as I o'er night had plann'd, Two steers Flash Dick had lost, And which I'd heard a shepherd say He'd seen a short time back Upon a plain nine miles away ; And so I took the track 18. That led thereto ; and rode along, Tormented by the flies, Which sang to me their buzzing song, While sporting round my eyes ; Or sunn'd themselves upon my back, Or on my old felt hat ; While scores of others on my hack With great decorum sat. 19. I wish'd them all to Jericho, But they were quite at home, And would not take a hint to go They did not care to roam ; For when with motion, swift and sly, I dash'd my hand with force Upon my fly-besprinkled thigh I did but scare my horse, 20. For much too knowing were those flies To be so simply caught ; Wide open were their keen, bright eyes,- They dodg'd, as quick as thought, To light again, quite merrily, Upon my punish'd leg ; Making me wish that every fly Had perish'd in the egg. 21. But wish or slap would not avail To keep at bay those flies, And as I could not sport a veil, They frolick'd round my eyes, Or got entangled in my hair Bizzing, I guess, with fear ; While others did for fun repair Into my shady ear. 87 22. But tho' they would not go, they went That is, they would not go Away from me they were intent On teasing me, and so They stopp'd, and went with me until I saw beneath some trees, Upon a low and grassy hill, Some cattle at their ease, 23. And with them lay the pair of steers I sought, but which soon caught The scent of me, when with cock'd ears, Cock'd tail, and frightened snort, They ran like redshanks with the rest Along a cattle track ; But gallant Teaser did his best, And quickly turned them back ; 24. Then dashing in among the mob The steers he dodg'd about, And, understanding well the job, Soon cut them neatly out, And put them on the homeward track, When I soon check'd their pace, To breathe my sweating, panting hack, Much winded by the chase. 25. Slowly I traced the sylvan way To where three gum creeks met, I knew that there some water lay, So thought a drink I'd get ; But just before I reach'd the spring, I by some chance look'd back, And saw a wild dog following Quite close upon my track ; 26. His eyes were red, he was athirst, His tongue loll'd from his jaws ; Oh ! Teaser, we will have a burst- Your hoofs against his paws ; I gave n yell and touch'd his side, He answered to the call, And quickly getting to his stride The dog did overhaul. 88 27. Away for life that dingo hied, We followed close behind ; He ran into the gum creek wide, Some cover there to find : But as no burrow met his sight, He dash'd out on the plain, And trusted to his speed in flight, Some shelter safe to gain. 28. But Teaser closed up with him fast, I swung my stockwhip round, The dog turii'd short, the horse dashed past, And lost some lengths of ground. Now both are at their utmost speed 'Tis to the creek we rush ! Lay out, old Teaser, gallant steed, We'll have that fellow's brush ! 29. The dingo was the first to gain The gum creek's stony bed : But then he seemed to run in pain, With drooping tail and head ; We quickly ranged up on his flank. To strike him I was bent ; There was a hole beneath the bank He saw, and in he went. 30. Then down I sprang with active heat, The brute I saw quite plain ; He see m'd to me to be dead beat ; So I dropp'd Teaser's rein. To poke him out was my intent By aid of stick or stone ; He bolted out, and off he went, And I was left alone : 31. For I had no idea, of course, On foot to catch that dingo ; And so I turned to mount my horse He too had gone, by jingo ! I saw him up upon the plain, He'd hunt no more that dog ! For with raised head to clear the rein, He went off at a jog. 32. Of course to catch my truant steed Became my chief intent : He sometimes stopp'd as if to feed, Then onward slyly went ; And so he led me up and down O'er stony hill and plain, Till I, just e'er the sun went down, To give him up was fain. 33. And by that time the heat and flies Had played the deuce with me ; The perspiration filled my eyes Till I could scarcely see ; My feet were sore, my throat was dry, My clothes were all wet through ; Nine miles from home ; and by-the-by, My boots were small and new. 34. There was an empty sheep-hut by, To it I bent my way ; The water-tank was nearly dry, Tho' some still in it lay ; But how was I to get some out Tho' ever so inclined ? There was no tin or string about No dipper could I find. 35. That iron tank was four feet wide ; It was the same in height ; No tap appeared on any side Unto my prying sight ; But, then, the round hole in the top Was fourteen inches wide ; I found my head it would not stop, And so my arms I tried. 36. I first put in one arm and wrist, Then thrust my head in too, And by a most determined twist, My shoulders I got thro' ; With scooping hands the water then I lifted to my mouth, And tho' much trickled back again, I soon dispelled my drouth. 90 37. Out from that hole I tried to win ; My shoulders would not pass ; My trousers would not let me in, So stuck was I alas ! But feeling round with tinkers fleet, I tugg'd my trousers wide, Pulling them downward pleat by pleat, Until I fell inside. 38. Forth from that dungeon dark and dank I got, and homeward sped, Resolved again into a tank I ne'er would thrust my head ; Ah ! when I next ran down a dog I would not leave niy steed, But with my whip the " varmint " flog, Till nothing more he'd need. 39. 'Twas late when I got home that night, Minus my horse and steers, And in a rather wretched plight With dust in eyes and ears. I had a pair of blistered feet, Which fill'd me with dejection ! Like ^E sop's dog, I'd dropp'd the meat To grasp a vain reflection. 91 BLOWING BUBBLES. TO A CHILD. RATTLE the pipe in the water and soap ; Through the stem steadily blow ; And forth from the bowl, an emblem of hope With radiance all aglow Shall issue in pride, like a fairy thing. There ! give it a wave and send It forth in the ambient air, to wing Its course to its journey's end. A beautiful sphere, of colouring rare ! Look, look at each tint so fine ! 0, its rainbow hues, are wondrous fair As the sunbeams on them shine. So airy and light, it glides in its flight, On a zephyr's viewless wings, And is welcomed along, by the magpie's song, Which forth from the gum creek rings. 'Tis hollow, 'tis frail, and it will not last ; Ah, there ! it has burst, my dear ; And its form collapsed to the earth is cast Like a beggar's falling tear. No more shall that bubble your eyes delight, 'Tis lost like all bygone things ; But many another as passing bright Will soar if you give them wings. 'Tis so with our hopes, when in youth's springtime We start on our path so gay, And to castles in air attempt to climb, Nor reck of the toilsome way ! And though like delusive bubbles of soap They suddenly disappear, We'll gain a bright home, if we cling to hope, And valiantly persevere. 92 THE FLOOD. A TRUE STORY. 1. AN old Scotch woman and a lass, Called by the matron ' oor wee Jass," Lived for some time with great content In an extemporary tent, Erected on the shelving bank Of winding creek, 'midst herbage rank, Which promised creeping things galore, To crawl upon the earthen floor. 2. The gude man he had sallied forth Unto the regions farther north ; Upon an old bay mare he went, To find a shepherd's place intent ; And weeks flew by, but still he staid Away from anxious wife and maid, Whose great concern did not prevent Their taking proper nutriment. 3. And thus they lived, until till one night They got a most terrific fright ; For after two days' heavy rain The drainage from each hill and plain Brought down a flood, which swiftly swept Around their gunyah while they slept Dreaming, perchance, of the gude man, When they from danger should have ran. 4. But all at once a horrid din Was made by articles of tin, Which, as they hung on bent nail hook, The water violently shook ; Then woke those women in a fright, And hurried forth in dismal plight Thro' rising waters now knee high, Toward the high land looming nigh. 5. They waded on in great distress, Each having but a thin nightdress Upon their bodies, tho' each head Had on the "night-mutch " worn in bed ; 93 No other covering had tlicy, For all the rest was wash'd away, With rations, tenement, and all Their household goods both great and small. 6. For when the sun rose on the scene Next morn, no vestige could be seen Of goods or gunyah ; all were gone Upon the angry torrent borne, To be left here and there piecemeal, For wretched blacks to pick and steal ; Or planted snugly in the mud Till the subsidence of the flood. 7. So on they strode thro' waters dark, Wishing themselves in Noah's ark Or clumsy mud barge, or a skiff, With cheering drop of something stiff ; For all around them, flashing white, The foam swept past in bubbles light, While in their ears the creek's fierce roar Made them stride madly for the shore, 8. Which they soon gained half dead with fright, But with no lucifers to light A fire to warm each shrinking form, Drenched by the creek and pelting storm ; For rain in torrents fell again, While lightning flashed across the plain, (One moment an unearthly gleam, The next thick darkness reigned supreme), 9. But showing with its transient blaze, The public-house and laden drays, Which stood upon the other side Of that dark, rolling, roaring tide That dashed against the gum trunks grey, Which stubbornly withstood its sway, Bearing the current on each side In seething foam upon its tide ; 10. And growling thunder ; low at first, But growing louder till it burst In awful tumult overhead, With mighty crash would wake the dead, (Could those be roused by any sound, Who deeply slumber 'neath the ground, Before the final trump and word To summon quick and dead be heard !) 11. Went rolling onward on its course, But seemingly with lessen'd force, Till o'er the mountains in the east It in dull distant echoes ceased, To be close followed by the flash, And most stupendous roar and crash Of the next lightning and thunder, Cleaving the black storm clouds asunder. 12. And those poor creatures' faces fair Showed ghastly in the lightning's glare, As 'neath a bush out on the plain They tried to shelter from the rain ; Vain hope ! it seemed with forceful sway Into their forms to find its way ; Causing their good warm Scottish blood To stagnate in their veins like mud. 13. And so like souls by dreary Styx, Those two were rather in a fix ; For no old Charon was there there To punt them over for a fare. So tempest-beaten and forlorn They felt like lambs just newly shorn ; And, longing for the morning light, They murmured at Old Time's slow flight. 14. But Phoebus showed his face at last, And half their troubles then seem'd past : For soon he caus'd to flow again The life-blood freely through each vein, While in the bright blue morning sky No cloud appeared unto the eye, Save those, which lay in masses strange Above the lofty eastern range, 15. Whose rounded forms in heaps were roll'd, With edgings of pale pink and gold, Thrown by the glowing god of day Upon them in a cin-lrss way ; 95 And fitfully the lightning's flash Suffused them with a roseate blush ; While distant thunder's low report Could by the ear be faintly caught. 16. Those women noticed neither cloud Nor rosy tint, but long and loud They cooey'd, till, above the din, 'Twas heard by those within the inn ; Who quickly sallied forth in force, And hastened to the creek of course, To see what troubled Mrs. Dill ; They hoped she was not taken ill. 17. And 0, how grieved they must have been- (Or rather ought to have, I mean) At seeing those poor women's plight ; In draggled nightgowns, long and white, With hair dishevelled, hanging down Upon the back of each white gown, In long elf-locks, which, by the way, With one was brown ; with t'other grey. 18. But I have heard there was a laugh, And that some man began to chaff The women on their doleful plight, Instead of sobbing at the sight ; But Bully Bill was standing by, And swore that he would black the eye Of any cove who said too much ; " He'd very likely want a crutch." 19. So then their tale the women told, And begg'd that someone would be bold Enough to cross that deep dark tide, And bear a bottle to their side. But Bob and Bill, and Jim and Tim, Were not inclined for such a swim : To risk their lives for ladies, for The days of chivalry are o'er. '20. But Edwin, minus coat and vest, The other fellows thus address'd " I'm blowed if I don't try my luck, " For I can swim like any duck ; 96 " So give the bottle here to me, " And then atjuatics you shall see. " I'vo often swum across the port, " And after that this ere is nought." 21. He took the bottle, in he went, To do the business <|iiite intent ; But ere he'd flounder'd scarce a yard An eddy took him off his guard, And whirl'd him up and down and round, And all declared he would be drown'd ; But when it seem'd that all was o'er, He floated in toward the shore : 22. When William strong as any bear Contrived to clutch his coal-black hair, And lugg'd him lifeless to the bank, With eyelids closed and garments dank ; But quickly much revived was he When they gave him some eau de vie ; Tho' as for swimming in again He did not mean to, that was plain. 23. The other fellows all had seen Too much to venture in, I ween ; And so they stood and gave advice, Till William hit on a device : He said " A bottle in a shirt " Will roll up tight, and 'twon't be hurt, " So Jimmy Kenny, go and bring it, " And then Big Billy there can fling it." 24. The bottle in the shirt was tied, And round the whole, a piece of hide, To give it greater slinging force, And urge it onward in its course ; Then Billy whirled it o'er his head, The missile on its mission sped : All watch'd it, breathless, as it flew, It fell far short and Bill looked blue. 25. The publican then made a cast, And tin's fresh parcel safely past To those with roses red at tip ; Who wen- so anxious for a nip. 97 'Twas quickly seized, each took a draught, Which made them neither drunk nor daft, But tended much to cheer their hearts, And soothe their craving inward parts ; 26. Then other wants they quickly found Their feet were naked on the ground, Some socks would give them great delight ; Two pairs of boots would charm their sight ; Some lucifers to light a fire, To make their draggled nightgowns drier ; And sundry other things beside They wish'd thrown o'er that raging tide. 27. Some bread, the boots and socks were thrown, Likewise a meaty mutton bone ; Of lucifers, a little store ; All that they ask'd in fact, far more. Then they were left to meditate Upon the harsh decrees of fite, And as to where the turbid flood Would plant its plunder in the mud. 28. But ere the close of that spring day, The flood had nearly pass'd away, Leaving a dingy, dark-brown rill To bubble o'er the boulders still ; Those women's troubles then were o'er, For wading to the other shore They soon, like daws in peacock's feathers, Appeared in borrow'd prints and leathers. 98 NO FRIENDSHIP IN BUSINESS. i. IF you have business with a friend, You'll find it better in the end To treat with him as you would treat With perfect stranger in the street. That is, with care your bargains make, No matter what may be at stake ; Then shall he say " My friend is wise, " His friend ship it were well to prize ; " Right honestly I'll deal, and still " My vows of amity fulfil." 2. But should you lean to friendship's side, And lead his profits far too wide, His latent greediness awakes, And Honour in her castle quakes. For generosity appears To indicate an ass's ears ; And, as an ass is not a beast Well-fitted for true friendship's feast, You quickly feel the rod of scorn, And, what is worse, you lose your corn ! Your friend, ere this, you've lost, and lie Has lost far more his probity ! Then recollect, lest friendship cool, " Good-nature's garb proclaims the fool !" AN ECHO. AN old man to the altar led A gay and frisky lass ; Then afterwards, like Echo, said A-las ! A-las ! A-las ! 99 THE FOURTH OF JANUARY, 1864. i. THE sultry night has pass'd away, And Phoebus once again Mounts in the east, and opes the day O'er valley, hill, and plain ; 2. But not upon the human race Looks he all smiling, down ; For with a wrathful, lurid face, He seems on men to frown. 3. The magpie sitteth silently Upon the gumtree's limb ; He sendeth not toward the sky His mellow matin hymn. 4. The diamond sparrows round the spring Crowd thick with panting breast, With gaping beak and drooping wing, By sultry heat oppress'd. 5. The gasping emus now betake Themselves into the creek, At reedy pool their thirst to slake, And gumtrees' shade to seek ; 6. There eagerly the sheep all speed, Nor linger by the way Upon the saltbush sere to feed, They feel but thirst to-day. NOTB. The day described in the following poem was the hottest I ever expe- rienced. I was driving a team on the road from Port Augusta, and had started from Ya-llamalka with nothing save a bottle of very brackish water to last me the stage (twelve mi'es on a treeless track), and this only augmented my thirst, for before I had got six miles from my starting point my tongue began to feel too large for my mouth, while my lips cracked, and 1 experienced the greatest difficulty in respiration, the air being too ratified to property dUtend my Inn^rs, and I believe I should have fainted had I not rememt>ered that in the w.iggon there was a bottle of sarsaparilla, of which I drank nearly half. This cleared my senses as if by magic, and I got within a mile of Warrakimbo, when the dust-storm burst on me. I subse- quently learned that the thermometer stood at 122 degrees between two open doors in Malcolm Gillies's hut. Birds of many kinds, including magpies and crows, died by hundreds ; and even bullocks, dogs, and sheep succumbed to the terrible heat. I continued to drink water, at short intervals, for nearly 24 hours before I could quonch my inordinate thirst. I wrote the poem while making my next day's stage, and it appeared shortly after in the Observer. 100 7. Now rugged range and arid plain Seem waving in tin 1 light ; Their barren glare inflicting pain Upon the weary sight. 8. And from the portals of the north The simoon's sultry breath, Like furnace blasts conies sweeping forth, A burning wind of death. 9. For upborne on its pennons strong, Vast clouds of dust arise ; Whirling like smoke, they rush along, And darken all the skies. 10. The native sparrows leave the springs, The magpies quit the creek, And, faintingly, on flagging wings, In huts a shelter seek ; 11. With them come dotterel, and whole flocks Of feather'd creatures small ; The simoon all their efforts mocks, And numbers lifeless fall ; 12. For, even as they fly, the band Is wither'd by its breath, And strew the burning wind-waved sand, Their wings collapsed in death. 13. The shepherd on the glaring plain Shrinks down a bush behind, With cracking lip and eye of pain, Beneath the scorching wind ; 14. He sees the dust-storm coming high, With side-wings spreading wide ; There is no friendly shelter nigh, No place in which to hide ! 15. He crouches low, he bows his head, O'er him it howling flies, As if the storm-king in it sped Beneath the frowning skies. 101 16, Dust, filth, and broken herbage fly In one black stifling cloud ; The sun is hidden from the eye, While thunder, pealing loud, 17. Eolls through the sky with awful crash ; And through the murky air Fork'd lightnings in sharp zigzags flash With sickly baleful glare. 18. Now from the icy southern sea A wind comes strong and chill, Before which scatter'd raindrops flee, And sprinkle plain and hill. 19. The shepherd feels the welcome blast ; He raises up his head ; The dust has from the landscape pass'd, Upon the south wind fled. 20. From off his brow he wipes the grime And sweat with heavy hand ; And lays a curse upon the time He came into this land ; 21. And well he may, for day by day 'Tis naught but dust and wind ; His sheep are starving and astray, Himself is almost blind. 22. The very air he breathes is foul From sheep and cattle dead ; While dingoes thrive and nightly howl, And kites sail over head. 23. Then ye who would a picture view Of desolation drear, Come, Anti-squatters, all of you, Come North and see it here ! 102 A DREAM OF THE DROUGHT, 1865. WITH harrass'd mind I lay and thought Upon the drought, that ruin brought, And desolation spread O'er all the cheerless dusty plain. Whose leafless shrubs for want of rain Had for long months been dead. I thought on all my fruitless toil On this most unproductive soil ; I thought on prospects fair, Which for a time well pleased my sight, Like buoyant bubbles passing bright, To burst like them in air. And so I call'd in vain on Hope, For far too faint was she to cope With Ruin grim and vast ; But fled at once when on her ear Rang out his bitter mocking jeer From dreary howling blast, Which, sweeping round the chinky walls In quick succeeding heavy squalls, Did clouds of dust detach From where it had, from day to day, Been gathering, in masses grey, Up in the dry rush thatch. I gave my mind to form some plan To save the stock ; but what is man When under God's dread frown ? And so I thought and thought in vain, Till weary grew my aching brain, When gentle sleep flew down, And on mine eyelids set her seal, Though still my brain no rest could feel, For then, as if the steam From some unholy magic pot Bewitched it with its vapours hot, I dream'd a fearful dream. For swift unfolding to my view A panoramic picture grew, Till spread before me lay The plain, with dust-clouds driving fast Before the ever-hissing blast, Against the face of day. 103 And silent horror shook my frame, For from the earth hoarse murmurs came ; While sandhill, tree, and rock, All reel'd and tottered to their base ; Convulsed was nature's sterile face ; It was an earthquake's shock ! Shock followed shock, and dust-clouds grew, And changed from grey to pitchy hue, Through which fork'd lightnings burst, To meet the flames which from the ground Flash'd fiercely forth through rifts profound, Like Tophet's fires accurs'd. And from each blazing red abyss Arose a mingled roar and hiss, As if the fiends were risen In arms once more to try the might Of Him who drove them from His sight Down to their awful prison. I heard unnumbered thunders roll With ceaseless crash from pole to pole, Above the ebon mass Of smoke which on the plain now fell, Like to the pictured roof of hell No sunbeam could it pass. But soon again all things did rock Three times I felt the earthquake's shock, And then a spire of flame Shot from the lofty eastern Pound, And shed its baleful glare around, While molten lava came In one red, rushing, roaring tide Of blazing billows down its side, And quickly fell'd each tree, Which flash'd with flame, and then was lost Beneath the flood, like snow-flakes toss'd Into a stormy sea. Onward that raging torrent swept, In awful cataracts, which leap'd Downward from dizzy height, Till soon 'twould reach the spot of ground Where, horror-struck, I glared around Upon the dreadful sight ! 104 But now from that volcano vast A roar came down like cyclone blast ! I gazed in fresh amaze ; For just above the crater's rim Three fearful Phantoms, huge and grim, Were thron'd amid the blaze High on a vast putrescent heap Of ghastly oxen, steeds, and sheep, Which well became the three ! They seem'd to grin with horrid mirth Upon the God-forsaken earth, And on unhappy me ! Despairing wrath within me grew, And I address'd that ghostly crew ; I asked what they might find To raise their mirth ? When one and all Affirmed they had been, since the fall, The scourges of mankind. That human dread was their delight, A trophy of their ruthless might ; Murder, and deadly strife, Earthquakes and plagues, were pastimes rare, With famine gaunt, and wild despair, And all the ills of life. I then perceived, that as they spoke, A name, in flaming letters broke Out on each livid brow ; At which the grimmest cried " Behold ! " For to us, all the North is sold " Our wretched slave art thou ! " To me thou dost unwilling pay " A teeming sacrifice each day " Of oxen, steeds, and sheep, " Which these my servants, good and true, " Wring from vile earthworms such as you, " And on mine altars heap. " And now the solemn rites to crown, " Thyself shall soon be stricken down " To me resign thy breath ; " For tortured in that burning sea " A prey thou shalt become to me, " Thine enemy King Death 1" 105 At once those characters of flame, To my enlightened eyes, became An alphabet of ease, Which told me that the comrades dread Of Death, were those who long had spread Starvation, and Disease. But now the burning lava near Its awful volumes did uprear In one vast roaring wave, Which, rushing with resistless might, Presented to my awe-struck sight A greedy, yawning grave, Which in an instant more would hide My calcined corse within its tide. I felt its burning heat, Like to some deadly dragon's breath, Boil my hot blood with blast of death, Yet there was no retreat. It seem'd to burst ; when loud and clear Came down a fell demoniac cheer, And startled slumber fled ; For with a stifled cry I woke To find thick dust, in place of smoke, In clouds above me spread. The sweat had stream'd from ev'ry pore, And mud was darkly coated o'er My visage as I lay, With thicker masses round my mouth And eyes, while bitter-burning drouth Had made my throat a prey. I rose, and from a jug did drain The water of the western Plain, Defiled with grimy sand, And wished that either rain would fall, Or sweeping ruin swallow all, That I might leave the land Where I for six long years had toiled, To be in every object foiled By drought's effects most dread ; Till, harass'd out in frame and mind, I curse the destiny unkind That here my footsteps led. 106 THE LIFE OF A WOEKING BULLOCK. i. A PRETTY bull-calf, rod-spotted and sleek, Is sporting with other calves small ; They frisk about on the bank of a creek, Unheeding each cow's loving call ; They flourish their tails about in the air, And battle each other in sport, For they know nothing of trouble or care, Or anything else of the sort. 2. But a stop is quickly put to their play, For a horseman, stockwhip in hand, Comes galloping up and drives them away, To suffer by knife and by brand ; For 'tis to the stockyard now they all go ; They are joined by more on the way, And the air resounds with whip-crack and low 'Tis a general mustering day. 3. Now learns our young calf a lesson in life, And also the nature of pain, For the stockwhip cuts his skin like a knife When weary he lags on the plain, And he joins the herd with a bleat of pain ; He finds that he should not delay, And fagg'd tho' he be will not linger again, But keep up the rest of the way. 4. The calves are shut up apart from the cows, Which to them incessantly low, While a fire is blazing, of dry gum boughs, To keep all the brands at red glow. Through a hole in a post is a hide rope small, With a noose on the inner end, While two men are outside, pulling left and right, And the brands and the fire to tend. 5. A stockman spreads the loop on a stick, And nooses the neck of our calf : At which he begins to plunge and to kick, And his enemies rough to laugh. 107 He bellows with impotent rage and fright As his tail receives a sharp twist, While the men outside, pulling left and right, Care little how he may resist. 6. Then a noose on his near hind foot they cast, This then is triced high to a rail, His near fore foot they too make fast. And drag him to ground by the tail. Now his head is fast 'neath a stockman's knee, Another, not at all tender, Kneels on his flank, and our calf soon will be A case of the neuter gender. 7. With a glowing brand on his hide they sear His owner's known cypher or name ; Then the station mark they cut in the ear, To know him by, far on the plain. His eyes and his nose with foul dust get fill'd, His hide it hath many a smear ; The cords are removed by which he was held, And he starts on the life of a steer. 8. Two or three years have since glided away ; He has roam'd at his own free will, Has lain in the shade thro' each summer's day, In the shady creek or on hill. His horns are wide spread with an upward curve, His limbs have grown brawny and strong, And the overseer is heard to observe " I will rope that steer before long." 9. He is penn'd again in a stockyard high, Like a restless bear in a cage, And shakes his head at the stockkeepers nigh, While pawing up dust in his rage. But soon a few rugged old slaves of the yoke Are turned in to act as a blind, For an active man with stick and rope To lassoo his head from behind. 10. By his brawny neck he is dragg'd again, And he roars and plunges around, But that only adds discomfort and pain, For the rope is of texture sound. 108 He stubbornly stands till his eyeballs crack, And his tongue lolls swollen and white, When the men are obliged that rope to slack, Or he would soon strangle outright. 11. But they quickly drag on the rope once more, With a stick they thrash him, and then For the fence he bounds, with a smother'd roar- Fine sport for those reckless men, Who, hauling the rope in, hand over hand, As quick as he rushes almost, Soon force the half madden'd creature to stand With his head drawn tight to a post. 12. Now a big old worker, crabbed and strong, Is made to stand up to his side, While a coupling chain by a green hide thong, To the base of his horns is tied ; Then the other end to a worker's neck Is made quite secure with a rope ; His liberty now is a shatter' d wreck, And he a dumb slave without hope. 13. His surly old bondsmate he circles round, Which by Ranger will not be borne, For the veteran meets his next wild bound On the point of his nearest horn ; And he leads that steer a captive away, And will beat him into submission ; For many another, before to-day, Has he brought to the same condition. 14. Our bullock now drags the lumbering dray Thro' the midsummer's terrible heat, And wearily toils on his dusty way, Tormented by flies and sore feet ; And should the dray be fast in the sand, He suffers a world of abuse, For the whip is plied by a heavy hand, Which is perfect quite in its use. 15. And so he toils on, and is bought and sold, But never by change does he gain, For still he must work, tho' starving and old, A slave of the yoke and the chain. 109 At last when from weakness he cannot obey, He is scourged with the whip in vain, For, staggering clown in front of the dray, The slave le ives his life's load of pain. 16. In the stony pass, where our bullock died, Still lies a foul festering heap, Whence dry bones gleam from the once glossy hide, Where sarcophagus beetles creep. And the lizard lurks 'neath his cavern'd flank, In wait for its sun-loving prey, While clustering masses of herbage rank Flourish greenly on his decay. THE DEATH-BLOW. A TALE OF DARKNESS. Oh ! ye who dwell in busy towns, where Law, with iron hand, Guards well your lives and properties, ye cannot understand The hardship which a bushman bears, or perils round him spread, When, in the howling wilderness, he lays his weary head. So, readers pay attention now, while to you I relate How one misguided wanderer went blindly to his fate. The night is dark and overcast, and chilly is the air, When, by a giant gumtree's foot, is seen a flame's bright glare ; And there, beside it. in his rug, a weary bushman sleeps, While, with an uprais'd heavy club, a naked savage creeps Toward the solitary man, with stealthy step and slow, As with keen, gleaming, vicious eyes he meditates his blow. But still his victim lies supine, all helpless on the ground, When crash ! the swift descending club a mortal part has found ; And, as the body writhes about, more sounding blows descend ; When, suddenly, the man awakes ! and starts right straight on end ! Then nimbly leaping to one side, he cries out, " Well done, Jake ! " Him big one lucky you jump up, and kill 'em that one snake : " I'm plenty glad I fetch 'em you to track 'em sheep 'long me ; " Here bacca. Now, you ketch 'em smoke, and boil 'em pot of tea." 11(1 A FISHY LEGEND OF DORSETSHIRE. IN Dorsetshire, one autumn clay, beside a shady pool, A well appointed fisherman sat on a rustic stool. His polish'd rod, with rings and reel, stood planted on the ground, While lie, as if he loved it well, a luckless croaker bound Unto a hook, two cruel hooks, which back to back were bent', And seem'd to threaten everything with mischievous intent. ! once loquacious, happy frog ! bad company you've found ! 'Tis lucky your amphibious, or you'd be surely drown'd, For sunk within that silent pool you presently will be, When lots of old acquaintances you may, if watchful, see ; But no, a deadly foe lurks there, with appetite more keen For delicate frog provender, than Frenchman's e'er has been ; But, bah ! 'tis only loss of breath to tell you all I know, So go yourself, my spotted friend, and beard him down below. The fisherman, self-satisfied, surveys his bait so neat, And as it dangles helplessly he rises to his feet, Then carefully resumes his rod, and with a cunning eye He notes the best locality for lurking " Jack " to try ; When seeing that his line is clear, he makes a handsome cast, And froggy to the shades below right suddenly has pass'd ; But o'er him still the painted float is dancing on the tide, While circles, which at first were small, now ripple far and wide. Then smiled that gentle fisherman, and from a pocket flask He takes some soothing "medicine," to him no painful task, And lights a mild Havanna ; but, ah ! he drops it quick, And gives a sharp, decided jerk unto his jointed stick ; Then presently low rounded waves are plying to and fro, And though his line is paying out, his rod bends like a bow, Right skilfully he plays his fish, until a gleaming side, Like flash of light an instant shows above the troubled tide, Then disappears ; but slowly now the ripples mark his way ; For master Jack, with gasping jaws, has drunk too much to-day, And soon the handy landing net has got him in its bounds, A mighty fish of three feet long, and fully fourteen pounds ! Now gasping on the sedgy brink the robber lies supine, When by that dandy fisherman a dog is heard to whine. With sudden start he glances round, and there a "lurcher" lank .'iding by a little boy amongst the herbage rank. No child of gentle parentage can be that urchin brown, Whose pleasing, open counteiumce smacks nothing ofthetown. Ill But wears that sweet simplicity which marks the rustic race, And goes so far to compensate for their known lack of grace. His boots are heavy hobnail'd ones, of polish guiltless quite ; Brown leathern gaiters occupy near half of his small height ; O'er these a pleated garment hangs in graceful folds around, While with a round top'd " billycock " his shaggy locks are crown'd. The dog might once have had a tail, it now has but a stump A melancholy sort of thing ! an elongated lump ! From which some straggling hairs depend, which plainly do denote A shaggy tail he ought to have, as well as shaggy coat. And as he meditates the pike, he hath a knowing glance, As if he'd take it home with him if had but the chance. And so perhaps he may, but not as he no doubt would wish, (There's " other way save in the mouth " of carrying a fish ! And now his biped friend observes unto that fisher wight " Be golly, Meastre, that ur fesh looks jeast as ef ud bite." The gay and festive fisherman replied " Ah, yas, perhaps, " Just try him with your finger now you're used to rabbit traps." But Johnny Bumpkin shook his head Ah ! what a happy thought ! Instead of finger, Pincher's tail ! 0, wouldn't that be sport ! " Meastre ? " (he bashfully remarked), "I'll tell 'e what till do, " We'll let un pin oud Pincher's theare, if be the same to you." The unsuspecting gentleman rejoined " Just try him, then." He called himself soon afterwards the stupidest of men ; And well he might ! for when the pike to Pincher's knob froze tight, That much astonished quadruped betook himself to flight ! Like pigeon, that some fancier, on racecourse or at fair, With note to it securely tied, throws upward in the air, To take to his far distant home, the news unto it bound. So circles round, a time or two, that active tailless hound ! And if he made a yelping noise, 'twas no doubt just to tell His playful patrons that he thought his " rudder" answered well ; But then, as if he felt asham'd when he their laughter heard, He made a bee-line for some place, just like that home-sick bird. And now a chevy chase began, which ended soon indeed, For nought save electricity could touch that dog in speed. And clench'd upon his " narrative," just like avenging fate, The fish, fresh from his element, pursued him o'er a gate. 112 But after that (tho' I can't toll whore those queer comrades hied) The gentleman jump'd on his hat ! while Bumpkin, by his side, Like hVa-vox'd poodle, roll'd about, and laugh'd until lie cried ! Till with a rousing kick reprov'd, he started to his feet, And from that frantic fisherman effected his retreat. And Mr. Pincher from his home for days a truant stayed, (Though he, perhaps, not all that time pursued a porter's trade. ) But if lie did, most probably he shifted his queer load To somewhere, else where it might be more comfortably stow'd. And as he look'd quite satisfied when he returned again, It is surmised he much enjoy'd what gave at first such pain ! Of Walton's gentle follower I will not say much more. His language was peculiar, though I will not say he swore ! At any rate, 'twould only grate upon your polish'd ear ; And, therefore, you'd have long to wait before yon find it here. So let him fix his sever'd line, and catch another frog ; Or bundle up his fishing kit, and inn-ward grimly jog. One thing I may as well just state that is, to Pincher's tail He will not hang his fish again, but send it home by rail ! MORAL. And now, my gentle readers all, no chance should e'er be missed Of taking morals from true tales ; and so I'll try to twist A very short, but warning one, from this my story plain Thus, " Do not trust to reckless dogs, what you may need again !" LYRES AND LIARS. Old Homer swept his sounding lyre With grand tierce fire supernal ! While " Nick " sweeps each astounding liar Into fierce lire infernal ! 113 G.OOD ADVICE. 'TIS a most delightful thing to tender " good advice " Unto our frail acquaintances, it is so cheap and nice. 1 know I've very frequently advised my friends for good ; Yet somehow, shortly afterwards, in like position stood. But you, no doubt, have often heard the adage old O de^ar, From being in their company, I must have err'd, I fear. 0, is it not a friendly act, to tell your old friend, Max, (Who matrimony meditates) that his fair sweetheart lacks Each admirable quality that sweetens married life ? And he just goes (the stupid ass) and makes her his dear wife i Then tells her in the honeymoon, for lack of else to do, Your blindness in mistaking her ; 0, how she then loves you ! You say to Mr. Moneybags (whose father made his pile From some dark, dirty copper mine, or well of stinking " ile" ) You wish you had his capital, you'd double it right soon In such a stunning little speck ! A railway to the moon (We'll call it that !) For when he goes, and lays his money out, He does not get it back again ! and quits when you're about ! A wicked little boy you hear to shocking words give vent ; Severely you then lecture him with virtuous intent, And tell him to what dreadful place such language leads in time ! But, ah ! what something vagabond is that you see to climb Into your loaded bergamot, and shatter down a branch ? ! what expressive epithets you at the culprit launch ! Tom Trotter (who has money made) would start a "trap and horse," You know about " the very thing," a bargain quite, of course, And such " a first-class quadruped " he has not got one fault ! Poor Trotter buys the whole concern ; but here I fain would halt, For when you go to borrow it, a hearse just leaves his door, And his afflicted relatives will speak to you no more ! ! what a mournful man are you, as homeward then you speed, Or go to freely give your mind to him who sold the stood. No more, youjirmly do resolve, will you your friends advise When, you encounter neighbour Jones, a green shade o'er his eyes : And as consolatory talk you pour into his ear, You recollect a " splendid cure " you heard about last year. 114 Minutely you explain to him how ho should lotion make ( Some awful liquid flame of fire), and what he ought to take. Hut poor old Jones is rather deaf, and stupid too dear, How sorry ymi arc afterwards, when from his wife you hear " That Joseph to the hospital has gone in sorry plight, "And 'tis thro' using your vile x^///'tliat he has lost his sight!" Well,' these events, so tragical, should certainly suffice To be a stoppage magical to your insane advice. But trill they ? Here [ answer. No if you are mortal ! Still You'll trot about and doctor folks when they are taken ill, And tell them what they ought to do when trouble hems them round, And then, be sorry afterwards ! for that I will be bound ! And still my friends I do not say, look to yourselves alone, (Forgetting thus the Golden Rule), but pity Trouble's moan ; And any little thing you know that can do good to others, Explain it well, and help them on ; for are we not all brothers ? And now to close this prolix lay, with which you have been task'd, 1 say, be ready witJt advice, and give it WHEN YOU'RE ABKED ! SLOTH. SI.UTFI is a Vampire, which by day and night With maw unsated, battens on men's lives ; As doth insidious and fatal blight On some fair tree ; and when it settles, thrives On wasted time, till it all prospects bright, Fair fame, and fortune, from its victim rives i Yet leaves him not when they are lost, but still Clings to his wreck, a genius of ill ! 115 TO A BLOW-FLY. OH, filthy vulture of the insect world ! The loathing you inspire no tongue can tell, When, with loud buzzing busy wings unfurl'd, You sally forth upon your mission fell, Guided afar by keenest sense of smell, That laughs to scorn the bloodhounds ! Thing of ill ! Fiend-like, your business you perform too well ! The poor maim'd lambs with living tortures thrill, When from fierce wild-dog's fangs they 'scape for you to kill ! Your horrid zeal to propagate your kind Outrivals e'en the mad dog's rage to bite, Or tigers, to destroy ! Oh, wretch ! designed For foulest work ! You, with obscene delight, Gloat o'er destruction ; and, with headlong flight, Speed to the carnival that death may spread, Or strife strew broadcast. To all creatures' sight You are a pest to shudder at and dread ; And, could deep curses kill, then were your kind all dead ! GO TO THE ANT, THOU SLUGGARD." " Go to the ant, thou sluggard," do ! And sleep upon his nest ; Then, if you rise not early, you A " sluggard " lie confess'd. 116 THE NATUKALIST AND ICHNEUMON FLY. i. A VERY benevolent, bald-headed mortal Loved butterflies, moths, and the whole of their race ; In fact, with his yellow gauze net he had caught all The insects, and ranged them in glass-cover'd ease With one grand exception a moth of great beauty ; And so a strict watch for it formed his chief duty. 2. He offered rewards, and the bumpkins then brought him Privet-hawks, peacock-moths, and old ladies a stock ; While one saucy fellow a bat saw, and caught him, But got nothing for it to line his smock-frock ; And as for himself, why, he roanr d in the gloaming, While great was the mess that he often came home in. 3. But all was in vain ; till, one day in a thicket, His eyes from their sockets near leap'd with delight, For, ah ! its great chrysalis ! yes, 'twas the ticket ! 'Xeath sheet of loose bark just appeared to his sight. And oh ! as he carried it home to his study, A smile quite usurp'd all his countenance ruddy. 4. In a box with dry moss he bestowed his rich treasure, And covered it safely with gauze like his net ; While first thing each morning, with keen, anxious pleasure, He'd lovingly gaze on his curious pet. Till oh ! his vexation, and dire aggravation, Were plainly betray'd by a sharp exclamation ! 5. For there, I declare, from the chrysalis broken, A villanous ichneumon fly had come out ; And, if that old gentleman's thoughts hud been spoken, His tongue some strange words, had then utter'd, no doubt. As it was, thro' that slender, black, wasp-looking pirate He stuck a sharp pin, and felt soothed, tho' still irate. 6. But then, like the ass of bad Balaam, the prophet, The ichneumon spoke, and these words did he say : " You think I've been cruel, so send me to Tophet, " Though you are much more so to moths every day ; " For while we are sent, by the All-wise, to eat them, " low, just for sheer mischief, impale and maltreat them." 117 THE VILLAIN AND THE HEEO. i. A GALLANT old colonel, a country J.P., Was pompous and stern in his manner, And thought a rope-noose was a rare recipe, And its burden the law's chiefest banner. 2. Well, one day, a fellow, who'd murder'd his man, Was dragg'd up in handcuffs before him, And, the charge being proved, his stern worship began With vicious tongue, scourging, to score him. 3. " You rascal ! you're sure to be hang'd till you're dead, " And ought to be whipp'd well directly, " And put in the pillory, thence to be led " To the gallows, if treated correctly." 4. The culprit here gazed at that irate J.P., And said, " Sir, I thank you sincerely ; " But if a hemp-collar is fitting for me, " Why you, yourself, ought to feel queerly. 5. " But there, my friend Blair has so aptly declared, " ' One murder will make a great villain,' " While, as a ' grand hero,' a soldier is chair'd " Who has spent all his life in man-killing !" STUPID PETER. DEDICATED TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN. Am " Juanita" 1. LEANING o'er his liquor Lingering lolls the fledgling fop ; Grins a senseless snicker, Strokes his chin's " down crop." On the barmaid slender His sheep's eyes they love to dwell ; Fuddled looks, yet tender, Throws this would-be swell. 118 Peter, stupid creature ! Slio don't care a pin for you ; Peter, stupid creature, What I say is true ! 2. He'll take to pawning, Nought cares lie, but drinks again, And, prudence scorning, Looks his love in vain. Grog his breath all scenting ; Like an oyster is his eye ; Oh, he'll be repenting Ere the night's gone by. Peter, stupid creature, You that yet may be a man ; Peter, stupid creature, By " Darwin's plan." SONG OF THE FAB NOETH MAIL. [AFTER HOOD.] WITH action weary and spent, With eyeballs sunken and dull, Four over-worked, half-fed horses strive A lumbering coach to pull. Drag ! drag ! drag ! In the midst of a scorching clime, Oh ! fain would stop each poor struggling nag For a moment's breathing time. Drag ! drag ! drag ! With the fierce sun glaring above, And drag ! drag ! drag ! While the fares get down and shove. 'Twere better in a cart As stock of the cat's-meat man, Where horses have ever to take a part When past cab, coach, or van. 119 Drag ! drag ! drag ! Though their strength begins to fail : Drag ! drag ! drag ! While the whip makes many a wale ! Plain and sideling and creek, Creek and sideling and plain, And over the gutters they stagger weak, The end of the stage to gain. Oh ! mail with letters fraught, Oh ! mail that hurries and drives, It is not leather you're wearing out, But starving horses' lives. Drag ! drag ! drag ! In suffering, hunger, and grime ; Away up here in the dreary North Horse-killing is no crime ! But why should those steeds fear death? Those spectres of skin and bone, Which crawling on in skeleton shape Would melt a heart of stone Would melt a heart of stone To think of the fasts they keep ; Oh, shame ! that horses thus should starve Though hay now be not cheap. Drag ! drag ! drag ! The whipcord never flags While a man for wages still will ply The scourge on those wretched nags : A hayless rack, and a barren plain ; Starvation is everywhere. From the well alone can they get their fill And sometimes not e'en there. Drag ! drag ! drag ! A weary stage and long, Drag ! drag ! drag ! Urged on by ruthless thong, Creek and sideling and plain Plain and sideling and creek, Till the lifeless action and drooping head Of a broken spirit speak. Drag ! drag ! drag ! With the noonday sun too bright, And drag ! drag ! drag ! Through the sultry summer night 120 Till the driver falls asleep To wake with a sudden start, As they soon know by the whip's sharp crack, And *" long-oats " burning smart. Oh ! for a hearty feed Of lucerne or hay so sweet Or e'en the town nag's bed Trod down beneath his feet, For only one short week In the farmer's rude brush shed, Before them stretched the well-filled racks Where perchance they once were fed. Oh ! for a respite brief From galling collar and whip, From sweat-soaked trace and bit and rein, And dusty toilsome trip, A little feeding would give them heart ; But pity nought avails. f There is no feed for those starving steeds, Gaunt slaves of Her Majesty's mails ! With action weary and spent, With eyeballs sunken and dull, Four overworked half-fed horses strive A lumbering coach to pull. Drag ! drag ! drag ! In the midst of a scorching clime, Oh ! fain would stop each poor struggling nag For a hasty bite from a feeding-bag, And a moment's breathing time. *Whipcord. tThis poem was written in 1876, when the horses on the Bllnman line had to Rubsist en what they could pick up on a country where sheep were starving ! ! They were like the " Frenchman's horse," they died before they got used to it. BURNING OF THE COSPATRICK, 121 BURNING OF THE COSPATRICK. THE glowing sun is sinking out of sight Behind a spreading circle's western verge ; The winds of southern summer, soft and light, Breathe o'er the billows, which have ceased to surge Since the last tempest hath withdrawn its scourge ; Yet still their huge unquiet forms arise (Like half-quelled rioters a word would urge Again to fury), but the tranquil skies Proclaim a peaceful night, and daylight slowly dies: Leaving a lofty ship, with spreading sails, To roll and toss upon her lonely way, Urged by the lazy breeze, which nearly fails To fill the canvas, looming ghostly grey, Beneath the young slim moon's faint silver ray. Slowly she sails, while floating o'er the deep Are wafted melodies, now sad, now gay Songs of bright hope, to make men's hearts to leap And plaintive ballads old, would force the blithe to weep For her wide decks are crowded with a throng Of emigrants from Britain's islands twain, Who seek the lagging time to speed with song, While idly rocking on the restless main, Far from the homes they ne'er may see again. Gaily the laugh and sportive jest goes round, As to bright fancy they allow the rein ; For are they not to certain fortune bound, In those fair Southern isles where plenty reigns around ? But hark ! sharp measur'd chimes from stricken bell Rise o'er the other sounds with cadence clear, And to the hardy sunburnt seamen tell That the short watch at eve, so justly dear, Is past and gone. And soon a man to steer Steps quickly aft the helmsman to relieve. He takes the wheel, while plainly in his ear His shipmate gives the course, then turns to leave With quick-glanced comments queer, as plain as words could weave. Upon the forecastle the look-out man Patrols the narrow space with careful tread ; Stopping at times the vessel's path to scan, To see that dangers do not lurk ahead, Watching for ships, or floating wrecks more dread. While his rough comrades of the watch bestow Themselves around, where'er by fancy led, In friendly knots to talk in voices low, 80 to avoid complaints from wakeful tars below. And presently the landsmen slowly go Down to the 'tween decks to their berths to sleep, Though some remain to watch the starlight's glow In quivers play upon the restless dee}). While little sparks, like shining soft eyes, peep From out the patchwork of white-sheeted spray Formed when the waves against the vessel leap, And fall with sullen splash, then pass away To the wide wake astern in masses dull and grey. Now the last lingerer unwilling goes, Leaving the officer the poop to pace ; To con the sails, and ascertain whence blows The languid breeze which scarcely fans his face ; While now and then he calls his men to brace The yards around, to meet the shifty wind, Which they, not differing from all the race, Do with strong arms, while with low words unkind They growl beneath their beards, and wish him dead or blind. Thus they on deck, and nearly all below, In their rude berths, are now beneath the spell Of gentle sleep the sweetest mortals know, When undisturbed by fevered visions fell, As every honest weary soul can tell And these, quite confident in ship and crew, Without one thought of fear, sleep sound and well ; For all their hopes rose-tinted are in hue, And their lives' pictured paths are pleasant to their view. They do not heed the wash against the bends, The sounding bell, or heavy rollers' shock, Or on the deck the clatter of ropes' ends, Or noisy banging of a tackle-block, The creaky fittings, or the vessel's rock, Nor are they wakened by the seaman's tread, Which, echoing hollow, slumber seems to mock, But as a lullaby it serves instead, Becoming food for dreams in many a pillow'd head. And restless brains, ignoring sleep's control, Indulge in visions strange and manifold, Which wizard Fancy artist of the soul Paints with a majic pencil I'm- and bold, To suit the young, the middle-aged, and old ! 123 The past, the present, aud the future bring A strange mixed medley of designs untold To fill his canvas. Mirth, on glancing wing, And Guilt and Trouble, too, to him their subjects fling. The young strong man, with health and courage blest, Unknowing yet the force of Time's fell hand, Who feels for dangers rude a burning zest, Treads with firm stride the yet far-distant strand; Or breasts the flood, or views his well-tilled land ; On gallant steed outstrips the bushland flame, Or singly combats with some savage band ; Bees beauty his, grasps opulence and fame, And is the winner, sure, in Life's swift changing game ! The buxom lass, her red cheek on her arm, Meets once again the lover left behind Or, what for her hath still a greater charm, One still more handsome whom she yet may find (Should blind Dame Fortune be to her but kind ! Gay scenes of pleasure, dresses rich and bright, All these combine to fill with joy her mind ; Let anxious care assail with morning's light 8he hath fair visions now to charm her dreaming sight 1 The tender infant by its mother's side, E'en it hath dreams to stir its slumbers deep ; Its soft lips work as if they draw the tide Which doth its baby life in pleasure steep, And sends it satisfied each night to sleep. Faint wreathing smiles play o'er its dimpled face, Its rosy limbs from 'neath the blankets peep ; And surely o'er it from the Throne of Grace A guardian angel stands and keeps its resting-place ! 'Tis now of night the silent solemn noon ; And once again the clangour of the bell Proclaims the changing of the watch, and soon The weary seamen thinking all is well Turn in to sleep their brief allotted spell ; While their bronzed brothers, yawning as they go, Creep into cosy nooks old yarns to tell, To pass the time which drags for them full slow, While still the sleepers sleep, and dream their dreams below. One man, now past his prime, from Erin's Isle, Moans in his dream, and even seems to weep; For ah ! he stands amidst a concourse vile Of black-mask'd monsters, who a circle keep Around a house whence half-clad creatures leap 124 To 'scape thoso flames, which, redly rushing high, The night's black clouds in lurid crimson steep ! ( )li (iod ! tlu 1 fiends ! tliev hurl them back to die ! The horror is too great lie wakes with stilled cry ! What pungent odour steals up from below .' What stealthy hiss, as from some hidden snake ? Oh ! 'tis to him a far more deadly foe, For at its name the boldest-hearted quake ! "Fire ! fire!" he cries. The dreamers all awake In wild confusion and in dread affright. Their very lives with death are now at stake Out on the ocean in the darksome night, For fire and flood are leagued to crush themwith their might! The boldest don what garments they may find ; The women rush upon the deck to shriek ; While crew and captain, as one man combined, Unite the fire within its lair to seek, With steadfast purpose, but with blanching cheek. Too late ! too late ! On sails and cordage fed It gathers force, and rushes forth to wreak A swift destruction on each helpless head, So lately laid secure in slumber void of dread. In vain a deluge from the sea they send ; In hissing steam the fire but flings it back Up through the hatchway with the mists to blend, And pass to leeward with the heavy track Of pitchy smoke which rolls in volumes black ! While the dread foe, fierce, hydra-headed, flies At those who on it bravely make attack, Like famished lion that with blazing eyes Beats back the hunter band, and bears off one a prize! Or like the fires which in these southern lands Rage through the cornfields when great heats prevail, Mocking the efforts of the sweat-drenched bands Who fight against them, but with small avail, As borne upon the pinions of the gale They dart with sullen roar upon their prey, Filling with ruin all the peaceful vale Late rich in vineyards and in gardens gay And so the flames spread now, and all is wild dismay ! The frightened women to the workers cling, < >r screaming children to their bosoms fold ; While men with pumps and buckets madly fling Tons of salt water in the burning hold. E'en fearless hearts with sudden dread run cold ; 125 For all in vain their failing force they try The whirling flames beat back those seamen bold Breathless and scorched and then exultant fly To claim the foremost boats, and climb the rigging high ! The fated ship, now head to wind, sweeps round, And the tall foremast falls with horrid crash, (Like some vast forest tree unto the ground Beneath fierce lightning's devastating flash), While to the boats the fear-struck people dash, And overcrowd one by their terror driven Till with the weight the iron davits smash, And the dark sea by struggling forms is riven, Whose awful cries for help rise madly up to heaven ! They cry in vain to God and fellowman ! Their time is come to cross the gulf so drear ! Their earthly course is shortened to a span Of awful anguish and ungoverned fear, Which like a red-hot iron seems to sear Those bursting hearts, which now must quickly stay The varied pulse of joys and sorrows here! For Death in all his terrors stalks this way The wild waves work his will, which fainting souls obey. The mate, brave Lewis, and McDonald try With the third mate the pinnace large to turn ; But no one answers to their earnest cry For needful help, and so 'tis left to burn ; And leaping flames soon rage from stem to stern. But still another boat is hanging near. To lower it becomes their chief concern, While others, not yet overcome by fear, Secure the fallen boat, and quickly bail her clear. Meanwhile some throw the gig into the waves With clumsy haste, to drift half-swamped away Upon the spar-encumbered sea, which raves And surges round in eagerness to slay ! Now many who a greater fear obey, Flee from the tire but to be quickly drowned, And sink in ocean's depths cold lifeless clay ; Save those who, clinging to the wreck around ; A cruel respite gain, in such frail succour found. Densely the boats are peopled with a crowd Of reckless men who down the tackles slide, Or wildly leap ; while splashing all around Strong swimmers battle bravely with the tide, And scramble fiercely to surmount the side ! 126 Both crafts at once are crowded to excess The crews push off, and from the wreck they glide. They cannot aid amid this wild distress ! Their feeble chance of life, each moment renders less. Upon the ship rolls aft the fiery pe>t, And from the great main hatchway roars on high ; While soon, by e'en the bravest, 'tis confessed Xo hope is left for any but to die. And prayers and shrieks go up in one wild cry ; While to the crashing mainmast's thunder dread The awful groans of victims make reply, Mixed with the wailing whirr of flames o'erhead, Which light with lurid glare the living and the dead The two frail boats are heaving on the deep, Throng'd with pale inmates, who with horror view Despairing wretches from the vessel leap, And yet to succour them can nothing do. Gazing with faces of an ashen hue, They see the captain throw into the waves His much-loved wife then swiftly follow too ! The doctor, with their child, the same fate braves Then, with a shrieking crowd, they sink into their graves. (How strong the love of life in men must be When they can tamely sit, while all around Their fellow-creatures in their misery, Crying for help, are yet, all helpless, drowned ! If now no ark of safety can be found, Do not they think that they may well die too, And pass away, with deathless honour crowned, Rather than live for evermore to view By day and night, in thought, that lost beseeching crew ?) The mi/enmast falls headlong in the sea ; The waters surge, while with explosion dread, As of a score of cannons, forcefully The stern blows out. And soon the flames are spread O'er all the vessel, for by spirits fed They mount on high with rushing whirlwind roar, And in the midst the last sad souls are sped Divorced from earthly clay above to soar To work their Maker's will elsewhere for evermore ! The hull iloats on, infested by lierce fire. Which eats her massive frame:, while jets of steam With angry hiss above the flames aspire, When through her shattered stern the waters stream, Or dash into her through the ports abeam. 127 And one by one the swimmers strong go down ; And men drop off from coop or floating beam With choking cry, beneath the waves to drown , Each fear-wrung visage pale fast settling in a frown. And near the wreck, with their large living freight Of human salvage, those two frail craft lie, When bright Aurora opens wide the gato For blushing Morning in the eastern sky, And all around the seamen's glances fly In eager hope that some tall saving ship, Approaching slowly, may now greet the eye. They gaze in vain, with indrawn breath and lip ; Sea birds alone they see, which in the waters clip ! Now as the cutter has no chief to guide Her future movements and control her crew, McDonald goes on board, while by his side Bentley and Cotter and brave Lewis too Attend their officer his will to do With prompt submission ; and though lacking sail, Compass or chart, with lind far from their view, Undaunted hearts may help to turn the scale Against gaunt Famine's tooth, and Ocean's ruthless gale. The day wends on, the sun resigns his reign, And night's long weary vigils too are past, While once again above the watery plain The morning breaks, as hopeless as the last ; For, though all night the wreck's red beacon cast Its warning light far o'er the lonely sea, No swelling sail no lofty taper mast, Within the circle of their sight they see, And from their saddened hearts faint hope begins to flee. The second day is nearly past, when lo ! The calcined hull sends up vast clouds of steam As with a plunge she hissing dives below ; And as she dives her red-hot ruins gleam, And a wild requiem startled seabirds scream ; While rushing waters in the vortex meet, And in fierce contest for the plunder seem ! Then rolling onward in their endless beat, They count one vessel more to Ocean's sunken fleet ! Now on the hamper which around them floats The shipwrecked look then shape their hopeless course Sans food or water, in those sailless boats, With three oars only their slow way to force. But now adroit McDonald hath recourse 128 To a torn garment which a poor girl lends To form a sail which might have been the source In times more prosperous, of jests. This tends To raise their hopes of life, as their frail mast it bends. ( hiward they drift the livelong silent night, The starry hosts reflected in the deep. And while for succour some few strain their sight, The others, wearied out, all huddled sleep. And the poor women in the mate's boat weep. The morning breaks, and Ocean's breast again Hath not a sail to cause their hearts to leap ; But thirst and hunger add unto their pain ; O ! for the crust despised ! the gently falling rain ! Another day is numbered with the past ; Another night and still another day ; Then o'er the ocean wakes again the blast Which bids the waves arise and they obey, Rolling before it in the moonlight grey ; And on they speed, those gaunt and wasted forms, Who little heed the crested billows' play ; For with the wind the hope each bosom warms That they may meet a ship, or reach the Cape of Storms. Now brave McDonald scans the sea in vain ; The other boat has vanished from his sight, And to his loudest call no voice again Comes back in answer through the thickening night Over the surges, gleaming crisp and white, Onward they scud, while in each breast of care The feeling gathers, that the weary fight With wolfish hunger, thirst, and deep despair Must now be, all uncheered, for them alone to bear. The Sabbath dawns no peaceful time of rest ! What day it is they scarcely know nor care ; For as they gaze beyond each billow's crest Their sinking hearts give way to dull despair ; Their burning thirst becomes too great to bear, And all regardless of wise counsels oi'ven They drink the brine, altho' it seems to tear Their very vitals, till by madness driven They glare like savage beasts, and rave of Hell and Heaven. And one by one their anguished souls depart, Leaving their bodies to the sea a piw. Poor Bentley, steering, wakes with sudden start From a deep do/e, and, falling, drifts away. They see. they hear, but have no power to stay ! 129 On, on, they drive ! While, like a rushing pack Of famished lions, all intent to slay, The angry billows follow in their track, And o'er the gunwales leap, to lie bailed hardly back. Still howls the gale ! And now, by hunger driven, The ghoul-like living feed upon the dead ! For from their breasts all human qualms are riven, For they must die if not on something fed, And naught is there save those whose souls have fled. And they are many for each awful clay Sees raving wretches clif , whose veins are bled To keep those living who have strength to slay, The lite-sustaining law, so ruthless to obey ! Xow just before the breaking of the dawn Of the eighth morning, through the shades of night There bursts upon those voyagers forlorn What is to them most welcome, dearest sight ! A barque ! full sail before the breeze, now light! They try to shout, and raise a feeble noise, But disappointment like a deadly blight Falls on their hearts none hear their weak " ahoys !" And theswift craft speeds on, and all their hope destroys ! ! who can tell the anguish that they feel As the good ship upon her voyage steers ? Their strength is gone, their shattered senses reel, And their hot eyes distil yet hotter tears As Death in ghastly form so close appears, He seems to grasp them. Yet brave Lewis now Pours words of hope and comfort in their ears (Though agony's cold dew -is on his brow) " We're on the track," he cries, " which homeward vessels plough." Nine dreary nights, nine weary days are flown, And still floats on that ark of horrors, where The mangled dead are midst the living strewn ; For near them crouch like wild beasts in their lair, The gaunt survivors, who no longer care For life or death, but 'neath the cold grey skies Sleep in dull sleep, or round them madly glare Upon their comrades with red frenzied eyes, Till, like a hungry wolf, one on McDonald flies, And bites his flesh, who, starting from his trance, Then rises feebly to repel his foe. But what is that which meets his waking glance, And makes with hope his bosom once more glow ? 130 A noble ship ! Ho tries to shout " Sail ho !" But lias no voice then to the gunwale clings, Anil "-axes mutely on the gallant show The coming vessel makes with snowy wings, While o'er the crested waves her captain's hoarse hail rings. Now are his comrades one and all awake ! Watching the vessel, as with bird-like sweep She meets the wind until her white wings shake With nervous twichings o'er the dark blue deep. While, fawning on her, swelling billows leap ! Her fore and mi/en sails again soon fill, Her mains are thrown aback, and serve to keep Her near the spot, while with a hearty will Her crew stand by to save with promptitude and skill. Oh ! who shall know the feelings of those men Who gasp for breath as they that ship draw nigh ! Lost from their thoughts their loathsome blood-stained den, And fixed upon their saviours every eye, While to their homes their minds exultant fly ! I>rave friends are near, whose honest faces glow With eager kindness, but whose warning cry Is changed to horror when the truth they know, A< 'neath their vessel's lee glides up that charnel low. The active seamen hoist the saved on deck, And wash away each filthy gory stain, While the poor dead sad relics of the wreck With decent rites are given to the main To sleep the sleep devoid of dreams or pain, Until, aroused by that dread trumpet's call, They shall awake with perfect forms again To be arraigned before the Judge of all. Here let the drama end here let the curtain fall. 131 MOODS OF THE OCEAN. i. I RIPPLE on my sandy shore, When the winds repose in their airy hall ; In murmurs soft my wavelets fall, As if at peace for evermore. And the sea-birds dive for their finny prey, While the ship scarce moves on her trackless way. 2. A restless wind awakens now, And wings its way o'er my peaceful breast, Whence wavelets leap to be caress'd And don foam-crests of sparkling snow. While the watchful sea-birds win# their way With the ship, which speeds on her path of spray. 3. Now howling blasts, like furies fly ! And my bosom vex to a foaming waste, Whence all, save wrath, is soon effaced, As Titan waves insult the sky ! While the sea-birds speed to the distant shore. And the ship goes down, and is seen no more ! IN MEMORIAM. OLIVER WATSON HARRIS DIED, JUNE 1, 1875. Farewell, dear friend ! a long, a last farewell For I have heard that thou hast pass'd away From this fair world, where thou wert loved so well, And where the best so often shortest stay. Oh ! can it be, that I no more shall hold That strong right hand, so cordial in its grip ? Shall ne'er again that comely face behold The broad fair brow and smiling eye and lip ? 132 Those honest eyes ! whose open, steady light Beam'd forth so kindly from their depths of blue ; 'Tis hard to think they are no longer bright, Hid in the grave lor ever from our view. That manly form fit home for the brave heart Which knew not guile, and never bowed to fear IB stricken down by Death's unerring dart That dart which ends at last each bright career ! Tho' not to me allied by blood or birth, Yet, like a brother, 1 have loved thee well, And many friends who knew thy sterling worth Mingle their tears with mine in this farewell. LOST. FOUNDED ON FACT. 1. ONE summer's morn, in Adelaide's far north, Phoebus glared down with lurid glance of wrath, While, from his flaming face, a flood was cast Of scorching heat, as if the world to blast ; Steeping the mountains, till their faded hue Deepen'd from grey to one intensely blue ; While their rude outlines show'd unto the eye In bold relief against the paler sky. 2. At foot of one, behold there did appear A lovely scene, drawn in the atmosphere ; A shining lake, with fringe of sombre pines, The water sleeping in bright silver lines ; While at each side, and backing it, were high, Bold, time-worn crags which seem'd to kiss the sky Forming a picture, beautiful and grand, Like some great artist's dream of Fairy-land ! 133 3. And, as a dream, 'twas merely a delusion, Which, like the fairies, would not brook intrusion ; For, on approach, that vision passing fair, Dissolv'd itself, and vanished in thin air ; While to the eye there then appear'd instead Huge sandstone rocks, all time-worn, bare, and red, And black-oak scrubs which clothe the southern face Of the tall range which bears the name of Chase, 4. Which there encroach'd upon a saltbush plain, Whose sun-crack'd surface told that needful rain For months long pass'd had never fallen there ; While o'er it play'd, suspended in the air, A lesser mirage, like to water waving, Which mocks the sight of thirsty bushman craving For the pure element, as onward toiling, With dry canteen, he feels his blood near boiling. 5. Deep silence reign'd, like that of lonely grave, And no stray zephyr caused the leaves to wave ; Though, spectre-like, some whirlwinds to the sky Raised their vast heads of thin grey dust on high. No bird or beast appear'd unto the sight, Saving an eagle, which, with lazy flight, Wheel'd on broad pinions, buoyant, in mid air, A dusky speck amid the sultry glare. 6. For, urged by thirst, all else had gone to seek For shade and water in some cool gum-creek ; There to remain till Phoebus should resign His mid-day reign, and to the west decline. But soon a man appear'd upon the scene, With hurried step, and agitated mien ; Who, as he sped, with keen suspicion peer'd Around his path, as if he danger fear'd. 7. A timid man ! far better had he stay'd To gain his bread by some dull, useful trade, In town or village of his native land ; His life the care of Law's far-reaching hand: For curlew's scream, borne on the midnight breeze, Or sighing wind, among the rustling trees, Caus'd him to start with keen enquiring ear, As if he thought some deadly foe lurk'd near. 134 8. Then his faint heart with frenzied fear was fill'd When rumour told how savage blacks had kill'd A luckless shepherd, on adjacent run ! Its promptings urged him, ere the rising sun Glanc'd o'er the range, to leave his sheep to fate, Death threat'ning him if he relief should wait. And so we see him, like a hunted deer, Fleeing for safety to a station near. 9. But soon in doubt he paused, and gazed around, Then bent his eager glances to the ground ; For now two paths his puzzled sight confused, Both faintly mark'd, and neither lately used ; One trended south, the other crossed the bed Of stony creek, and to the station led, Which, though from this, but two short miles away, Was screen'd by hills, 'midst which it nestling lay. 10. But he, as others would no doubt have done, Soon chose the plainer and the broader one ; And it, like that to everlasting ruin, Became the cause of that poor man's undoing ! For it led out upon the saltbush plain Where nothing lived, except when winter's rain Caused pools of water in the holes to lie, Which summer's drought leaves deeply crack'd and dry. 11. With nervous haste he strode upon his way, With growing dread lest it should be astray ; While agitation, and the sun's fierce beams, Wrung the salt sweat from him in trickling streams ; He heeded not the pertinacious flies Which swarm'd around and in his mouth and eyes ; Too much by fear his mind was occupied To notice, now, how else he might be tried f 12. The marks grew fainter, as he onward went, Till with the plain they finally were blent ; He had pursued a once-used cattle track He turn'd in haste, and hurried swiftly back, But, by sad chance, found not the path he left, As if of sight he had become bereft, Or careless grown, from stupid haste and fright, He gave no thought to what was wrong or right. 135 13. For then, instead of gazing calmly round At ranges near, and guided thus, have found His morning's track, he wandered on the plain, As if intending to go home again. But no such thought was present to his mind ! 'Twas fate relentless that his steps inclined ! For so bewilder' d was he by his fright, That well-known hills now mock'd his puzzled sight ! 14. When leaving home, so hurried had he been, That quite forgotten was his large canteen ; And thirst was added to his mental pain ! Oh ! that in England he were once again ! Her meanest puddle would to him have been A priceless boon ! tho' garb'd in stagnant green ! A willing gift had been his hoarded gold, For one large cup of water, clear and cold ! 15. Oh, ye ! who live in England's favour'd land, With purest water always at command ; A draught of it gives you but little pleasure ; You do not know the value of the treasure ! So with all blessings, if too cheaply bought Upon their worth we seldom give a thought ; But let us lose one, be it ne'er so small, 'Tis straightway sought, pursued, and prized by all ! 16. And so with him who pines for water now. Oh ! how he long'd, while wiping his hot brow At some clear stream, to take a breathless drink ! Compared with which the choicest wine would sink In estimation, left untasted till His thirst was banish'd at the sparkling rill ! For tho' in praise of wine so many sing, All those who thirst would quickly choose the spring. 17. On, on he ran t still harass'd by the flies, With cracking lips, and painful sweat-dimm'd eyes ; A bitter slime pervaded his hot mouth, His swollen tongue and throat were rack'd with drouth ; While on his head, convuls'd with throbbing pain, The sunbeams struck, and seem'd to scorch his brain. His feet were blister'd, and his state of mind Can neither be imagined nor defined ! 136 18. But soon he struck the beaten road again, Where Chase's range abuts upon the plain, To trace once more that fatal erring track, And on the plain to wander, hopeless back. In senseless haste he paced the fatal round, K'en when the sun, with golden glories crown'd, Swept with his train of wide, diverging light Down in the west, and left his realms to night. 19. He sank, at last, exhausted on the ground, And scarcely breathing, mark'd each sylvan sound ; The gauze-wing'd locusts, shrieking from the trees, And dingoes' howl borne faintly on the breeze, While *" oolka boorachie" hopp'd close around, Adding their short and most peculiar sound, As hungry night-hawks stay'd awhile their flight, Then flitted on like spectres of the night. 20. He might recline, he vainly tried to rest ; For, with wild fear and bitterness oppress'd, His heart beat audibly, as if 'twould burst ! He tried to pray but, raving madly, cursed ! He started up, sat down, then rose again, As fearful fancies crowded thro' his brain ; While thronging fast before his mental sight A medley strange of past scenes sped that night ! 21. No charms for him had constellations bright, That richly gemm'd the majesty of night, But through the gloom he peer'd with eager eyes For fair Aurora's advent in the skies. Tears down his cheeks pursued their silent course, Wrung by despair from their long pent-up source ; Till tired nature could no longer keep That fearsome vigil, and he fell asleep. 22. Sleep ? yes, 'twas sleep ! but of the fever'd kind That seals the eyelids, but permits the mind To live tormented by a phantom host Tin- evil genii of bright dreamland's coast ! Of varied shapes, and various terrors, they 'Midst night's dark shadows hold their horrid sway ! Gaunt, grinning spectres o'er the starving flit Vile shapes enormous on gorged gourmands sit ! *Kangaroo-rat ; Native name. 137 23. But to the man who slept unhappy there, A savage seeming did the phantoms wear. Huge naked blacks to him appeared to rage Around a hut where helpless he was caged ; Eager for blood, they shook their horrid spears, While fiend-like yells assail'd his startled ears ; And then, one demon, darting from the band, Soon gain'd the hut with uprais'd, flaming brand ! 24. The thatch ignites ! at once, with whirlwind roar, Devouring flames towards the heavens soar ! Oh ! he must die an agonizing death ! He writhes beneath the conflagration's breath ! It was too much the awful spell it broke, He started wildly, and at last awoke To find himself beneath the midnight sky, Consumed by thirst no friend or water nigh. 25. He slept no more, but watch'd with aching sight, For those faint rays which herald morning's light. Oh ! would that day, so longed for, ever dawn To cheer his heart, by gnawing anguish torn ? Those weary hours seem'd lengthen'd into years, Each one full crowded with a lifetime's fears ! He thought Old Time, with folded pinions, stay'd His wonted course, and daylight long delay'd. 26. But those dread hours of darkness fled at last, And night's black mantle from the plain was cast, Which soon again in glowing light was dress'd, Yet comfort came not to that wanderer's breast. For on his march he sped with early dawn, And with quick steps pursued his way forlorn. But whither bent ? 'tis to no haunt of man, But to that fate which yesterday began. 27. For now, again, as on the bygone day, Out on the plain he wends his weary way. The hills, confused, seem whirling in his sight, His eyeballs burn with wild and frenzied light ! Deeply his nails he digs into his palms, And, all unknowing, waves aloft his arms ; His mental tortures, acting on his brain, Fast sap his reason ! he is near insane ! 138 28. He hurries on, with scarcely any change, O'er arid plain, and by the frowning range ! As barque round Maelstrom, in Norwegian sea, To sure destruction, ceaseless circles he ! But, worse than on sharp jagged rocks to burst, He soon must die of all-consuming thirst. Of hunger's pangs he scarcely is aware, They are as naught to thirst and deep despair ! 29. Again fierce Phoebus, from his mid-day path, Regards the earth with unabated wrath ; Till the scorch'd plain flings back its sullen glare, And mocking mirage vapours in the air. Yet onward still, with redly gleaming eyes, The luckless one from foes imagined flies ; With steps uneven, in erratic lines, For to no track his course he now confines. 30. Anon by suffering and madness driven, His scanty clothing from his form is riven By trembling hands, which heed not what they do, As on the saltbush they the garments strew, Till naught remains ! yet still he feebly strays, Nudely to bear the dreadful solar rays ; While like a furnace, all its flames close pent, With horrid heat are his vex'd vitals rent ! 31. Far o'er Lake Torrens' wild and dreary shore The sun sinks redly in the west once more. Then staggers down that worn-out man to die, Unseen by any, save his Maker's eye ! Madness and fear have fled his stricken brain, And, from his frame, its all-pervading pain ! He starts not now at any fearsome sound, But in a swoon lies senseless on the ground ! 32. The evening hours glide silently away, And noiseless night-hawks hover o'er their prey ; When Death's dread call unto his spirit rings, Which must essay its now unfetter' d wings In flight momentous to a hidden fate Of pain eternal, or seraphic state ! For who shall judge an erring mortal, save HIM who, with life, his fallen nature gave ? 139 Now clay's bright god his realm pervades again, And, with a glance, drives darkness from the plain, Steeping in light that body void of breath, Which silent lies in dreamless sleep of death ! No more its eyes shall nature's beauties scan, Or its still'd brain poor human business plan ; Dust it shall be, and mix with kindred clay, Till once more quicken'd on the Judgment Day ! TIME. i. OLD Time strides on with steady pace, His speed he quickens never ; Yet still he runs a winning race, And keeps the course for ever ! By night and day, while worlds decay, He strides along for ever. For ever, yes, for ever ! 2. He just looks down, with scornful face, On mortals swift and clever, And, as each drops from out the race, He leaves them there for ever. Both great and small, he leaves them all, And strides along for ever. For ever, yes, for ever ! 3. But still yourselves, ye mortals, brace, For Fame it dieth never ! And though ye drop from out the race, Your name may live for ever. Then gain a name, and let your fame Stride on, with Time, for ever ! F>r ever, yes, for ever! 140 THE GUM-TREE. OF Austral trees I am king, I ween, None can with me compare ! My vast old crown is of evergreen, Begemm'd with plumage rare ! My limbs I wave like sceptres grand To the wattle-scented wind, And I am loved in this southern land As a friend by all mankind ! CHORUS Then sing ye jolly corn-stalk band ! Loud let your praises be Of the monarch grand in this smiling land, The glorious old gum-tree ! My pendent sprays in sweet whispers sing When zephyrs round me play ; But loudly roar, and defiance fling At the rage of a stormy day ! My mighty roots like anchors hold In earth's dark breast right fast, And my tall trunk stands like a Titan bold, And laughs at the vanquish'd blast ! CHORUS Then sing, &c., &c. I lend my shade, in the fierce noon-clay, To dark skin and to fair, And the fever-fiend I drive away If lurking in the air. And when bright Phoebe, queen of night, Reigns o'er the peaceful scene, My magpie choir oft hail her light From my lofty leafy screen. CHORUS Then sing, &c., &c. 141 110 IN THE SHADE. i. ALACK ! what are we coming to ? oh, dear ! But two degrees 'neath burning fever's point ! Our livers will not stand it long, I fear, And all our functions will be out of joint! Save the unpleasant one that doth anoint Our parboil'd cuticles with perspiration, Which might indeed be measured by the pint ! And which insists upon a perportation, A sort of liquid loan for instant liquidation. 2. Too hot for work ! we therefore loll about In just the coolest quarter to be found ; And here, I own, I feel a lurking doubt That, in that bourne to which bad souls are bound, (To suffer anything but to be drown'd) It can be any hotter than this place Near to Lake Torrens' border ; where the ground Gasps, with a thousand fissures in its face, For a cool breath of air, just like the human race ! 3. The covers of the books are curling up, As if they fain a student would invite To pore o'er their crisp pages for a sup From learning's fount ; but who, with fly-vex'd sight Would quickly leave them in a sorry plight, By pouring on them perspiration's rain In mighty spots ! just like the splashing flight Of scattered drops, which patter on the plain Just ere the weather-clerk turns on his thunder-main ! 4. Poor Towzer, there, is lying in a hole, A scratch'd-out cavern 'neath a leaking tank, Nor thinks of mutton he so lately stole, And, from the crows, secreted in a bank ; But sprawls, at length, with slowly heaving Hank, Too much oppress'd to wag his bushy tail, He'd scarce " skedaddle " for a kick or spank ; E'en at that caller, with his dusty swag, He will not rise to bark, though plainly an " old lag !" 142 The panting fowls arc gasping in the shade, Their dingy plumage hanging loosely round, While chanticleers, with warfare for their trade, Mope side by side, and nothing now would hound Them on to combat ; or, indeed, to sound The martial challenge with their clarion shrill ; Are these the birds which strut upon the mound, And for a pullet's sake, are kill'd or kill ? Too hot it is for love ! e'en jealousy is still ! 6. That grim grimalkin stretch'd upon the floor Is surely dead, so motionless he lies ; Upon the mucine race he'll prey no more, But if he's dead, e'en Death can't stand theso flies ! For see, he clutches at his half-closed eyes, With sudden claw, to scare those insects vile, Which shirk the blow, and all inertly rise On lazy wing, to poise a little while, Then settle down once more, the luckless cat to rile ! 7. Upon the ear sounds forth no songster's note, To break the stillness of the sultry air, And all is silent, save where sheep or goat Speeds to the water with unhappy blare, 'Xeath bushes dodging to avoid the glare Of Sol's fierce glances, who hath fever got, And is as pleasant as a scalded bear ! Now I must pause to take a cheering tot, A nasty one I mean, the water's nearly hot ! 8. Oh ! for a snow-crown'd iceberg's leeward side ! But not too near it, for extremes are bad. Here I much wonder that the dogs ne'er tried To wile away the time, by going mad But no ! 'twould be a deal too hot to pad 'The hoof, in quest of legs at which to snap. " Johnny ! you Johnny ! just come here, my lad, And take that water-bag round to the tap, And fill it speedily, or you may get the strap." 9. I'm done up, quite ! and so will guzzle tea ; That is, of course, when no " three-star " remains ; But, by-the-by, it really puzzles me How soon that brandy f'n>m the bottle wanes ! The footless glass must sutler little drains, 143 Like perspiration, through its pores to ooze. Oh, clear, the question bothers my stew'd brains, And so I'll try to soothe them with a snooze ; A trial at the best, when heat and flies oppose. THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. " GOOD night ! good night " the mother said While leaning o'er her infant's bed, She kiss'd his mouth so rosy : " Good night ! good night !" she said again Another loving kiss, and then She left him warm and cozy. And going out with footfall light She left the candle burning bright Till sleep, on angels' pinions, Should with soft hands his eyelids close, While fervently her prayer arose To Heaven's supreme dominions That he, her son, should grow in grace, And run with credit in the race Prescribed on earth to mortals And when, with years and honours crowned, He should by kindly Death be found, His soul should win the portals Of that Bright Land where sin is not Where pain and sorrow are forgot Where tears can trickle never ! And, doubting not that she should fly For shelter there when she should die, Trusts they shall joy for ever. And soon she seeks the little bed Where, sleep's bright visions round his head,- Her darling now lies dreaming ; While sunny smiles upon his face Appear to her, from Throne of Grace, Replies of hopeful seeming. 144 So, taking up her light, she goes With noiseless tread, to seek repose, And leaves him to his slumber But never dreams that her fair child Shall grow up like a nettle wild, Earth's smiling lace to cumber ! Upon the past's dim silent shore, Long years are cast for evermore, Since in his cot, that child Slept, 'neath his guardian angel's care, A happy mortal, passing fair, With soul yet undefiTd. Can this be he, who on the sand Lies dying in this desert land From thirst and hunger pangs ? A ghastly creature, ragged, worn ! Too mean for word, or glance of scorn, A prey to conscience-fangs ! But see, upon his face a light Gleams, as his spirit takes its flight ! Yes, 'tis indeed no other ! And ah ! a soft word leaves that tongue, Whence oft the ribald curse hath rung, That cherish'd name of " Mother !" Ah ! heart-wrung parents ! who repine When Death, sent by the All-wise Mind Comes gathering your flowers ; Rebel not at the order given Ye know those " blossoms," borne to heaven Will deck Eternal bowers ! 145 THE FLYING DUTCHMAN. A LEGEND OF THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. Two hundred years ago, or so, I will not be precise, A fine old-fashion'd galliot, which look'cl just like a slice From Daddy Noah's clipper craft ! (a bottom slice of course !) With lots of beam to carry sail, was thrashing at the force Of snooring gale, from Sou-Sou-East, and nasty chopping sea, As lively as she bobb'd about as such a craft could be ! And on the weather-quarter loom'd old Afric's stormy cape, Round which the Dutch adventurer his daring course would shape ; For " Vanderdecken," of that craft, was skipper bold I ween ; (A burly, round-stern'd mariner as ever yet was seen), Who paced upon her lofty poop, with trumpet in his hand, As if he'd hail the natives swart, upon that savage land. An oil'd sou-wester cased his head, above his shaggy brows, Who could believe that bear-like man once fancied by the Vrows ? His keen small eyes were like a rat's ! and then, his nose ! oh dear ! 'Twas like a pimpled pineapple ! (he loved his schnapps, I fear !) A long moustache, like cross-jack yard, AVUS slung beneath that knob, And fitted was his cruel mouth to take a man-trap's job ! His grizzled, bushy beard hung doAvn upon his brawny breast ; His antiquated doublet, broAvn with grease, Avas greatly mess'd, And in the girdle that he wore, Avas thrust a dagger long, To prove its owner in the right, hoAvever in the Avrong. Trunk hose of leather met his boots, (of close-grain'd hard horse-hide), Which on the luckless cabin-boy full often had been tried ! Who, though he doubtless fancied them too large a size or so, Discover'd that, like " three-leagued boots," they made him swiftly go ; And once when with great energy, and suddenness applied, They furnish'd Avings which carried him into the sea's salt tide, Where, as he was an orphan boy, of melancholy mood, They left him, just to fraternise with " Mother Carey's " brood. But oh ! as if into the breast of Stormy Petrel small His puny soul had entered in, so surely in each squall One of those evil-omen'd birds, on restless Avings pursued, With other notions, said the men, than just to seek for food. For gramercy ! right Avell he knows, quoth they, IIOAV AVC shall fare, 146 And so, to keep us company, already doth prepare ; For since the little tlohann died, hath trouble hemm'd us round, Ami will, till in the fatal sea, like him shall we he drown 'd: So biscuit crumbs some to him threw, while others wished that he To " certain burning latitudes " might on swift pinions flee ! But, howsoever they might wish, there still that sea-bird flew, Which troubled Yanderdecken more than e'er it did his crew ; And often, with his arquebuse, had lie, with cruel mind, Aim'd at the little wanderer, a messenger unkind ! But still a charmed life it bore, and still it sail'd along, As if it loved the billow's crest, and tempest's weird song. Now swallow-like it skimm'd along, on pinions strong and light, A hated and reproachful thing, in Vanderdeeken' s sight ; Who, as he roll'd along his deck, no words of pleasure spoke, But mutter'd curses from his throat, in sullen thunder broke ! And, scowling on his sun-burnt crew, from foremast-man to mate He call'd down " blessings," in Low Dutch, upon each luckless _ pate ; As if those scurvy-stricken tars could help the gale so foul, Which in derision, through the gear, like demons seemed to howl ! " Now, rouse that fore-tack down," he cried, " be smart, ye lubbers all !" And half a dozen tarry ones responded to his call, While, just as sportive rabbits drive into rude dingle dens, So dived into the seething trough the " Benaud Englekens ;" For thus was Vanderdecken's craft from Burgomaster named, Who little thought, when she was launch'd, that she would be so famed. Now, Peter Vanderbelt, the mate, a fair-hair'd, blue-eyed tar, Is gazing with his mental eye upon some scene afar ; For, as against a shroud he leans, his heart is far away To where his loving Gretchen sits, while round his children play ; And in his ears their joyous tones, like music seem to ring ; But him, from his bright reverie, his skipper's accents bring. " Wake up ! you dreaming home-sick calf," he hears that worthy hiss, " E'er Amsterdam ye see again, it will be long, I wis ; " For may Old Scratch seize on my soul, if I for Holland turn, " Before we weather yon black cape, and leave it far astern ; " For spice ! and precious stones ! I sail'd, and mean to have them too ! " And so I'll stay and carry on till everything is blue. 147 " Besides, I never yet was beat wherever I did roam ; " Get ye below, you foolish loon, and dream no more of home." But ah ! what fearsome sound was that, which both those seamen heard ? It could not come from albatross, or any other bird. Tho' round them rustled viewless wings, and wierd shadows fell ; Oh, no ! 'twas like exulting laugh from mocking fiend of hell ! And with a sudden change of wind, the sails were thrown aback, And stopp'd the " Renaud Englekens " abruptly in her track. But e'er the startled seamen sprang to haul the yards around, She fillM again, and gather' d way, as if for Cape Horn bound. But where is gallant Vanderbelt ? not in his berth below, Xo pillow, save a " water one " will Peter ever know ! For, by the jibing 1 main-boom flung into the raging sea, Xo more will he his pleasant home, or gentle Gretchen see With one wild cry to Heaven sent for mercy on his soul, He disappears beneath the waves, which o'er him surging roll ! E'en Vanderdecken's rugged heart, by what lie saw, was wrung ; For oh ! he loved his sister's son ! tho, he no hen-coop flung, Or -wore his clumsy galliot, or tried to heave her to, Or, in a cranky cockle-shell, sent forth a saving crew. For well he knew that fruitless all would such endeavours be, No dingey that was ever launch'd, could live in such a sea ! Besides, he saw him fathoms down, sink like a deep sea-lead, So turn'd upon the steersman bold, and swore at him instead. " Just mind your helm, you lubber, you ! why, what are you about ? " I do not want, you sea-cook's son, to put the craft about ; " And 'twas your carelessness just now, that got her in the wind, " And sent poor Peter overboard ! by ! I'm inclined " To string you up without a shrift, unto that yard-arm there ;" The man replied, " Thou skipper mine, from further threats forbear ; " Xo fault was that of mortal man, but of the Evil One, " Who works for us a cruel fate, which he hath well begun ! " For oh ! that horrid gibing laugh rings yet within mine ears, " And ever will, though I attain to all one hundred years t " A doomed ship is this, I trow, and all that in her sail ; " That fatal cape we'll never round, or weather out this gale ! " But I, for one, like Christian man, will bravely meet my fate ; " I wouid I were as well prepared as our departed mate \ " For gentle was his soul, I wis, tho' as a lion's bold ! (And as thus spake that mariner, tears down his visage roll'd) 148 " 'Tis thirty days since first in sight of that swart capo we came, " And high upon the inland hills beheld the mighty flame, ' Which yon said native blackamoors were making as a sign \ " An ugly blackamoor, indeed ! thought 1, and comrades mine. " And still a foul wind baffles us, while scurvy thins the crew ; " Then hearken, Sir, to the advice I fain would offer you." Stern Vanderdecken answered not, but turned him on his heel, Tho' into his hard wicked heart, a doubt began to steal, And as he wander'd up and down on those unsteady planks, Old recollections flll'd his mind of wh -it were worse than pranks ; And then he mused on Vanderbelt, when (who would think it true ?) Unconsciously, from his fierce eyes, stole down a tear or two ! For his good angel tried once more to turn his stubborn heart, (That indurated pebble-stone, which stood for vital part !) And prompted him to seek again his helmsman good and true, And growl, " Now, Diedrick, say thy say, but let thy words be few." Then spake that skilful mariner, and this is what he said ; " Turn back, if there should yet be time, and be by prudence led ; " And let us to Our Lady pray to help us in our strait, " For, with her aid, perchance we may. e'en yet, evade our fate." Here Vanderdecken stopp'd him short, with mutter'd curse and scowl ; Quoth he, " Befits it seamen bold unto the saints to howl " Whene'er a puff of wind comes down, and makes the water rough ? " Pshaw ! if you call that good advice, you've given quite enough." E'en as bold Vanderdecken spoke, that stormy wind veer'd round, And seemingly the Englekens was fairly outward bound. Then mutter'd that grim skipper old, as they the yards did trim, " Not yet hath Satan clutch' d my soul ! I still will weather him. " Ho ! steward, bring the cheering schnaps, let all the main- brace splice !" That steward said not anything, but vanish'd in a trice ; And soon each drouthy mariner toss'd high the polish'd horn, Then pour'd into their season'd throats the blood of barley-corn. E'en Diedrick took his liquor off, as should a seaman brave, But still it lighteii'd not his heart, or clear' d his visage grave ; And when a comrade to the helm came aft his trick to take, He gave the tiller up to him, then gazed back in the wake, As if the mate once more he'd see, then cross'd himself and sigh'd, 149 And offer'd up a prayer for him who slept beneath the tide ; Then forward to the forecastle he silently did hie, For something whisper'd in his ear, 'twould soon be his to die ! Now merrily the galliot runs right before the wind, And wildly yaws, as is the wont of vessels of her kind ; While albatross, and moleymauks, and flocks of smaller fry, On buoyant wings wheel round and round, and keep an eager eye Upon the boiling wake astern, for what the cook might cast, While through the rigging, whistles shrill the mighty western blast ! And from the huge green-headed waves, with crests of snowy white, A school of uncouth blackfish plunge, and disappear from sight. Then Vanderdecken goes below to take another nip, And quite forgets the adage old anent impending slip 'Twixt cup and lip, although before, unto his cost, hath he Oft verified the truth of it upon that very sea. And hark ! that heavy tramp of feet denotes a stir on deck, So quickly up the booby-hatch he cranes his bull-like neck, And sees the yards braced round again, to meet the gale un- kind, For, haul'cl upon a bowline taut she's close upon a wind. Ah ! now she will not lie her course, unless they wish to land At Table Bay ; and soon e'en that is on their weather hand ; And, blowing as 'twould blow its last, the fast increasing gale Soon forces Vanderdecken bold to take in sail by sail ; And tho' she " lies-too like a duck " in ordinary gales, There's nothing now would stand to it unless sheet-iron sails ! She therefore needs must scud away, beneath her long bare poles, While with her yard-arms to the brine, 'midst horrid waves she rolls ; And as the night comes rushing down upon the stormy sea, E'en Vanderdecken would he were beneath some island's lee J Oh ! how that fierce south-easter blows, so piercing, dry, and chill, And stars with cruel steel-like gleam the cloudless heavens fill, 'Neath which the sailless vessel speeds, one instant toss'd on high On mountain waves, whose wind-shorn crests in stinging showers fly ; Then hurl'd to seething, gloomy depths, by rushing waves assailed, No wonder that upon their knees the fear-cow'd seamen quailed, And prayed unto their patron saints for help in this their strait ; They might have heard, but if they did, they left them to their fate ! K 150 For hark ! as yaws the Knglekens, an awful billow breaks With force terrific on the craft, which to her kelson shak Beneath the shock, which smashes in her hatches, as a bomb Descending through some dwelling's roof, would carry wreck and doom ! And down into her gloomy hold invading waters pour In torrents like Niagara, and with a sullen roar. Bold Diedrick, and the watch below, dart out upon the deck, While scurvy-stricken wretches pray, and moan a certain wreck ; And well they may, for overboard the helmsmen twain are cast, Their dying cries to leeward borne upon the raging blast. And Yanderdecken ! where is lie ? why, on the cabin floor As full of schnapps as he can be, and has been oft before ! The tiller smashed ! the binnacle gone with the helmsmen brave! Xo wonder that the boldest now expect an ocean grave ! And e'er brave Diedrick can invent, and, with the hardy crew Rig up some patent steering gear, the vessel broaches-to, And by the wind's terrific force is thrown upon her beam, While through the hatchway's gaping jaws the fatal waters stream ! In vain those active mariners, with ready jack-knives bound To hack the weather lanyards tough thro' rigging's dead-eyes wound, For with a suffocating sob, she rights a moment then Dives down into the depths below, with all her doomed men ! Whose death-shriek ringing wild and shrill, one moment peals on high, Then nought is left, save raging waves, beneath the cruel sky. Long, weary years have slowly crept into the changeless past, And still for Peter, Gretchen waits, all faithful to the last ; And for his safety nightly prays, and watches thro' the day, While fainter, in her heart of hearts, becomes hope's cheering ray. But hark i the sound of culverins, upon the Zuyder Zee, Proclaim that hardy mariners have come from ruder sea ; And audibly her poor heart beats, as she her mantle ties, And swiftly to the water side with her dear children hies. But oh ! tis not the Englekens which to the harbour glides, Although a gallant galliot with weather-beaten sides; Which plainly tell of voyage long, as do her much patched sails, While tawny are the visages which peer above her rails. All, all bespeak her from the clime where Plue,bus fiercely glows, And where, in lieu of merchandise, men often meet with blows. But ah I what sturdy mariner makes signals from the ship, And waves his hat, and puts his hand unto his bearded lip? 151 Oh, can it be her husband brave ? come back to her once more, By time and hardship changed so much upon some foreign shore That he one moment could appear a stranger to her eyes ? No, no ! it is impossible ! her faithful heart replies ; But yet the form is not unknown ; 'tis strange if it should be For oh ! her brother, kind and true, and skipper brave is he. Now, surely tidings she shall hear, her heart to break or glad, How faint she feels, as fear declares those tidings will be bad j Now active seamen shorten sail, till, with a splash and roar, Her anchor, with its rusty chain, seeks holding ground once more. And as they trimly furl the sails, and coil up sheet and brace, Her brother rows unto the land, fair Gretchen to embrace. But oh ! his face is very sad, tho' fain would he be blithe, And tears will start as he regards those children gay and lithe. Poor Gretchen feels the truth at once, and with a stifled cry, She fainting falls unto the earth as if about to die. But soon the ruddy vital flood pursues its course again, While silently, from her soft eyes, the soothing tears drop rain. And when she slowly gazes round, and sees her children there, She dedicates her life to them, and offers up a prayer For help and guidance from above, and for her husband's rest, Though doubt as to his future state ne'er enters in her breast ; To which she folds her children now within a sad embrace, Who gaze with silent wonderment into her tearful face ; And then upon the mariner, whom well the eldest know As uncle Will, who sail'd away full three long years ago ; Who used to bring them curios from many a foreign land ; And as they press around him now, and grasp his kindly hand, They ask him why their mother weeps, and wherefore comes not dad, And why so grave is his brown face, that once was never sad ? And where the shells and parrots are, and where the monkey small ? To their last questions he replies, " Well, I have got them all, " But they, with lots of other things, we'll get to-morrow, dears, " Now I must see your mother home come, Gretchen, dry your tears ! " For he, that seaman brave and true as e'er the sea did sail, " Is in a haven bright, I wis, and safe from ev'ry gale ! " Now, if you lean upon my arm, we to your cot will go, " And there, to satisfy your mind, I'll tell you all I know." The cottage, with its gables queer, and garden trim, they gain, And William tells of his long cruise upon the boundless main. And how, when off the cape of storms one wild and squally night, 152 Unto their startled eyes appear' d a strange unearthly sight ! For, as they ran before the wind, a phantom ship appear'd. Which right into the very eye of strong sou-wester steer'd ! Beneath bare poles she glided past, a cable's length a-lee, While, on her deck, one weird form was all that we might see ! But no one, who had ever known Hans Vanderdecken bold, Could e'er mistake that misty shape, with eyes which redly roll'd. Besides, the craft, which left no wake upon the troubled sea, Was just as like the Englekens as pea unto a pea ! Though, even as the ghost on deck, a ghostly ship was she ! And then we knew that in the slime, a thousand fathoms deep, Her luckless crew, around her wreck, were wrapp'd in death's dull sleep. So, for their soul's repose we pray'd, though we misdoubted then, How it might with the skipper fare, liowe'er might fare the men. But none that knew brave Vanderbelt could his bright future doubt, For if St. Peter bars his way, why, all shall be left out ! " Then Gretclien, for your children live, and comfort take from me, " For poverty shall shun your door, while I can sail the sea ! " And. as the little Peter grows unto a man's estate, " Teach him his father's life to live, and fear no earthly fate." And now, this tough sea-yarn to end, I'll tell you as a friend, That on the perfect truth of it you really may depend, For many honest mariners have seen the phantom sail Upon its ancient cruising ground, and always in a gale, When dark as e'er was Erebus the gloomy night-shades fell ! And so they could not be deceiv'd, and it could be no sell. MORAL. A modicum of good advice from this my tale I'll draw, Thus ; shape a fair straight course thro' life, and from it never yaw ! And do not bluster, or declare that you will have your way, Or, like poor Vanderdecken' s ghost, you'll find it does not pay. 153 THE HUNT OF GOLD. THE world is one vast hunting field ; Its people, hunters all For varied game its coverts yield, In cunning toils to fall. But gold, which lines the pockets best, Is by most hnnters hardest press'd ! Some hunt for husbands, some for wives, And some, for lovers' gay ; Truth, some pursue thro' all their lives, A shy, scarce game, they say ; But gold, &c. Some hunt for pleasure, some for health, And some, excitement's flame ; Tuft-hunting, open, or by stealth, A toady band can claim ; But gold, &c. Some hunt, their fellows to enslave ; Some, liberty pursue ; And some, unto the very grave Hunt mortals good and true ! But gold, &c. But listen, hunters, great and small ! List ! all ye eager crew ! Death keenest hunter of ye all Is grimly stalking you ! Then, if with him ye would be bold, Let honour guide your hunt for gold. 154 LEAP-YEAR. IN VKIIY SHORT METRE. 1. ONE clay, A pair He gay, She fair The breeze Beside The sea's Salt tide Enjoy'd, And toy'd. 2. Said Jane, "Dear Ned, I fain Would wed, ( Leap-year 'Tis now) So here I vow, I'll wed Thee Ned." 3. Said he, " My dear, For me, I fear, Too gay You'd prove. Good day, My love ! You'll wed Not Ned !" 4. MORAL. From this True tale, Each Miss Don't fail To be \\V11 warn'd ;- 155 For she Is scorn'd Who tries, Like Jane, A prize To gain. Beware ! Take care ! TOT AND BESSIE. Two little bright-eyed maids love me, And, oh, I love them in return ; Fresh charms in them each day I see, Though crabbed I am grown, and stern. They laugh with joy when I come home, While round my neck their arms they fling ; And if afar I chance to roam, Still, in my heart, their voices ring. My daughters are those children fair, Their mother's gentleness have they ; Earth cannot show a blither pair, Not e'en of birds in blooming May. Oh ! what is fame, and what is gold, To that pure blessing from above, Exceeding them a thousand-fold, That priceless gem our children's love ? While little Tot and Bessie live, And love me as they love me now, My sorrows to the winds I'll give, Though care sits heary on my brow. 156 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A VENERABLE AND MUCH RESPECTED LADY. To THAT fair home, with ling'ring flight, Came silently the angel Death ; And, fearless of his awful might, She calmly yielded up her breath. Her friends' and children's falling tears Have not the sting of bitter pain, For, full of virtues and of years, She's gone, a heavenly crown to gain. Still in their faithful hearts enshrhrd, Her memory shall ever live, With wreaths of love and honour twined, And all that reverence can give. And as thro' life they journey on, The hope shall cheer their future way, With her, of blest reunion In realms of bright eternal day. DEPARTED FRIENDS. WHEN fortune smiles, when hopes run high, And youth with pleasure glides along, E'en if the best and dearest die, Our mourning for them lasts not long. Yet, latent in our hearts, the pain Sleeps but to wake in time again. For trouble comes in sombre guise, And age his heavy hand extends ; Then with sad souls and tearful eyes We muse on our departed friends The mists of years before us fall, And we their priceless worth recall. 157 Oh ! hearts, by weary yearning wrung ! How all your pains and sorrows swell, If conscience, with upbraiding tongue, Of cold neglect to them can tell ! Ye writhe in torture, self-accused, 'Xeath what once sophistry excused. Then all to whom kind fortune gives (To glad you in your onward way), Dear friends and loving relatives, Devotion show them while you may, And when they are no longer here, Mem'ry your lonely hours shall cheer. SONG OF THE NEWSPAPER. i. HURRAH ! for the " Banner of Liberty " ! The broad black letter'd sheet That, round by post, a mighty host Each morning flies to greet With news of the world, by light'ning hurl'd To Editor's retreat. 2. Hurrah ! for the " Banner of Liberty " ! That speaks to heart and eye ; For its pages teem with the thrilling theme, Of times fast fleeting by : Of might and right, of peace and fight, Of those who " do or die." ! 3. Hurrah ! for the " Banner of Liberty " ! Its power let none gainsay ; The soldier now to the press must bow The sword to pen give way ; For truth's bright gleam is its grand theme, Despite the despots' nay ! 158 4. Hurrah ! for the " Banner of Liberty" ! May its prestige ne'er be less ! Hurrah ! for the men of type and pen Who deeds in language dress ! And hurrah for all, both great and small, Who work the " Printing Press " ! THE POST OFFICE. i. A GIANT dwells iii St. Martin's le Grand, Who is mightier far than Briareus, For his arms stretch forth into every land, By " Sinus " sway'd or " Aquarius," And ruled by the will of his mighty mind, Work cheerfully on to oblige mankind. 2. This giant will take, for the meanest man, A message to China or Timbuctoo, To famed New York, or to Astrachan, To Bangalore, or to Woolloomooloo ! And all that he asks, for his service vast, Is a paltry stamp to a note stuck fast. 3. A priceless friend is this giant so kind, To comfort the heart of the wandering wight ; Of each anxious friend he relieves the mind, And sorrow dispels with a message bright ! What pleasure can equal, in man's large stock, The rat-tat-tat of the postman's knock ? 4. Then here's to our friend of St. Martin's le Grand, For his arms and his hands Briarean, With a special cheer for the postman band, From the cleanly-shaved, to the hairy-man. And long may the picture of our good Queen In years to come on our st:mip< In- seen : 159 SUSPENSE. i. WHAT equals thee for evil, pale Suspense ? For keen malignity, and torture fell ? Oh ! 'twould, to virtue, be a hoist immense Could we be sure that, in the place call'd Hell, Thou canst contrive thy baleful powers shall swell The endless torment to the souls of men Doom'd, for their sins, within its flames to dwell ! Oh ! if thou can'st, all I can say is, then ril not go willingly to that well-lighted den, 2. But rather roam, a melancholy ghost, By Nova Zembla's icebound, dreary shore, With nought save Northern Lights at which to toast My frozen shade ; alone for evermore With howl of wolf, and savage white bear's roar By way of music ; but that desolation Would not protect me ; you'ld be to the fore, To tantalize me with the expectation That other ghosts might come on polar exploration ! 3. When some dear friend lies at the door of death, What silent tortures tear the aching heart ! As by the bed, we listen for the breath At times near still, till, with a sudden start, It strives again to baffle death's fell dart ! Then, thou art near, the troubled mind to rack With dread uncertainty's protracted smart, Till we are almost glad when, on that track, The spirit takes its flight from whence it ne'er comes back. 4. Oh ! what is hunger to the empty pain, Thy tugging at the heart-strings, when we watch, Month after month, for all-refreshing rain, And start at midnight with strain'd ear to catch Its welcome patter on the dusty thatch ? A few drops fall ! when, ah ! that gusty wind, Veering to south, will surely overmatch The " weather-clerk's " intentions to be kind, The brooding soft clouds flee, but thou art left behind 160 5. To jostle Hope ! till, like hermaphrodite, It is a mixture hard to be defin'd ! But thou, Suspense, art more than half of it, Therefore it needs must be a thing unkind ! A vulture fell, to prey upon the mind. As " hope deferrd " beneath a friendly mask, You sickly tortures for your victim find, Till, with crush'd heart, he, with despair, doth ask For Fortune's fellest stroke, and seeks the soothing flask. 6. I'll write no more ! for thou, to all mankind Art known too well, and hated as a pest, Almost the greatest that a fate unkind Can plant, for torture, in the human breast, To kill its peace, and murder sleep and rest. Not one good word can mortals say for thee, Though all do curse thee with a hearty zest ! And so, farewell ! I would the same to me Thou could'st for ever say, and absent ever be ! FAME. i. FAME hath a trumpet, which, with lungs of brass She needs must sound, with future-waking blast, When strange things happen ; instance, Balaim's ass Discoursing Hebrew! Spartans standing fast In old Thermopylae ! Good Daniel cast Into the lion's den ! Fair Juno's geese As liome's best H-ntinels and, as time pass'd, The gentle NIM-M fiddling <>n in pi-are. While conflagration vast, Uule Unman life to cease! 161 She hath her trumpet, and vast strength of lung, But uses both with small discrimination ; Arid sounds, when horrid murderer is hung, As readily as at the coronation Of king or queen of some great thriving nation. In fact she cannot help herself, but blows Her instrument with trifling variation, For honour's truest friends, or blackest foes, Just as a cold-vex'd man, in church, must blow his nose. 3. But yet we dog her steps, and fain would buy, Or beg, or steal a little blast or two ; Just as tuft-hunting dowager would try With royalty to have an interview ; Or bankrupt to obtain from cautious .Few, Or Chr'stian Shylock managing a bank Another trifle on an I.O.U; Yet feAv, indeed, unless of wealth or rank, Or villainy unique, the jade have cause to thank ! 4. At least in life ; and after death, why, then 'Tis very difficult indeed to say, And therefore more so to describe with pen What flattering effects her trumpet's bray May have upon the spirit, sad or gay, That may, perchance, an echo faintly hear Belauding it, and its poor house of clay In ruins left behind : I rather fear It would be much preferr'd if not in such arrear. 5. Yet two complexions hath our loud voiced friend, Or rather, patroness ; one dark, one fair, And as, in chase, your eager way you wend, Do you on truth and honour's side declare. Then, arm'd with perseverance, bravely dare Fame's frowning cousin, the dread pale chimera Of evil fortune ; and a kindly blare - Not loud, perhaps, as evil Fames, but clearer, Fair Fame may sound for you, while you on earth can hear her! 162 THE SOD OF TURF. A TRUE STOHY. 1. GREKN land of ( )ld Erin ; thy sons and thy daughters, Where'er they may wander, think ever of tluv ; No matter how distant, on earth's spreading quarters, Their hearts are still with thee, tliou gem of the sea j 2. And here, to Australia, across the wide ocean, Came one, whose affections were tender and true, Her heart warm and steadfast, her life a devotion To stern self-denial, for friends did and new ! 3. And though of a station in life poor and lowly, With small earthly treasure, she did what she could To succour her neighbours ; and what is more holy Than, like our Great Master, to try to do good ? 4. Long years had departed of mixed joy and sadness, When, from the Old Country, news came that a friend Intended to join them ; she heard it with gladness, And wrote to her kindred a " turf-sod " to send. For oh ! 'twould remind her, that strange, simple treasure, Of scenes of her childhood, in Erin's fair isle ! Xo jewellery costly, could give such a pleasure As that magic mirror, her cares to beguile 1 6. But, as o'er the billows the gallant ship bounded, That brought to Australia the turf and the friend, They laid her to slumber, 'neath mound low and rounded, In silent West Terrace, her ashes to blend 7. Witli those of the pilgrims departed before her, Who came from the country they loved till they died ! A love, that her children have fervently bore her, Unmatch'd by e'en that of a man for his bride 1 163 THE MORTAL TO HIS SOUL. 1. " OH ! source mysterious of joy and grief, Of apprehension, and of hope serene, That, of thyself, contains the grand belief Of deathless being, when the mortal screen That now enshrouds thee, shall, beneath the green And fruitful surface of the earth resume Its state of dust, and be a lair unclean For crawling worms ; whilst thou, who know' st no tomb, Eternal glory find'st, or everlasting gloom. -2. What art thou ? Satisfy thyself ! oil ! say, (For 'tis thyself that now the question asks,) Canst thou not give unto the light of day That mystery which human wisdom tasks. And hath, in times which hoary age now masks In dim obscurity ? Oh ! find a voice ! Thou that in sadness sits in gladness basks, And hath a tenement of God's own choice ; Speak of thyself, I pray, that we may both rejoice." SOUL. " Go, study Holy Writ, and read therein Of Him who came on Calvary to die ; With His dear blood, to cleanse me from my sin, And make me fit for palaces on high To which the saved on angels' pinions fly, There, in His presence, by His Throne to stay For ever, and for ever ! ' What am I ' ? Will then be answered. Here, have faith and pray That I may happy be when time shall pass away." 164 THE GAEDEN OF THE MIND. i. THE infant mind is a garden fair, And an^ols w&tch as its buds unfold, For though God planteth his choice 1 seeds there, Yet Satan soweth a hundred-fold ; And his wild rank weeds spring up and blight The plants so dear to the angels' sight. 2. With firm strong hand, and with watchful -ve, Ye parents tend to your gardens' bright, And the weeds pluck forth, ere the flow'rets die And their guardian angels wing their flight Away, in grief, with averted face, To the garden's Lord in His heavenly place. 3. Then strive, oh ! strive your fair plants to tend, Till their roots strike deep in the yielding soil, And then, though tempests of sin may rend. And weeds of folly o'erwhelm and spoil, Like a Phoenix bright, from its ashes they Shall bloom again on a future day. THE STORM- WAVE. i. UPON Gangetic Delta low Night's gloomy mantle falls, While sleeping Hindoos fear no foe Within their bamboo walls ; Though jackalls' cry, from jungle nigh, Like evil spirit calls. 165 2. The cocoa-palms, like genii strange, Seem watching o'er mankind ; And through the gloom bright insects range, With moths of every kind. While sugar-canes ^Eolian strains Play to the midnight wind. 3. Grotesque the horrid idols stand, To guard their sleeping slaves ; But stern Fate laughs, while in his hand, His deadly brand he waves. " Ah ! ah ! ye blocks ! your temple rocks ! Death now for victims craves ! " 4. What mighty roar, with thunder voice, Is rolling o'er the ground ? The {Storm-wave comes ! and gives no choice To flee, or to be drown'd Its work is done ! It rushes on ! Death reigns supreme around ! LOVE IN A CHUKCH. ONE summer's morning, piously intent, To Ruthlin Church the pompous Judges went ; A good example to afford, and hear A sermon preached in accents mild and clear By the High Sheriff's learned Chaplain, (who Glanc'd oft towards that dignitary's pew !) There sat in state, but with a chasten' d mien, The legal magnate in his might serene. On what his thoughts ran I care little no ! Law and its minions to Hong Kong may go ! So let him listen, or in slumber lurch, My theme is Love conceived and made in church ! 166 A yonthful gentleman upon a lour. Tliat morning sat to hear tin- sacred lore In mild persuasion from the lips proceed Of that disrple of the " High Church " creed Whose pleasant task was sacred seed to sow On Judges' souls where it perchance might grow Like to the " grain of mustard seed." and form A goodly tree to la-are temptation's storm. And yield a shade 'neath which each Judge might live In the calm peace religious faith can give. It went no further than our hero's ears ; For in the pew next to his own appears A blooming maiden, lacking merely wings To be an angel ! (If indeed such things The forms seraphic of the angels' grace) Our mundane one possess'd a lovely face, And crinoline a vast expanse, which well Became the figure of that peerless belle; A piquant bonnet added to her charms ; Her dainty hands, and softly rounded arms Would fire a sculptor ! Then, her raven hair ! Its shining masses were beyond compare ! The nymph was faultless, and the hard hit swain Felt in his soul the pleasurable pain Infix'd by Cupid's deeply wounding dart Which now, fresh feather'd, quivered in his heart ; And working inwards, still the smart enhanc'd As each fresh glance, the victim more entranc'd ! Loudly his pulse beat, dizzy grew his brain, While his young blood cours'd madly thro' each vein, Fled from his thoughts were parson, judges, all Save she who held his ev'ry sense in thrall ! Swift to her pew he longs at once to fly Fall at her feet, and plead with tongue and eye ! He checks the impulse, for on shining wings A happy thought much comfort to him brings. A happy thought ! By Jingo ! that will do ! His gilt-edged Bible opens to his view, Its rustling pages turn beneath his hand, (The reason why, you soon shall understand) Ah ! there it is ! His eyes now light upon The second letter of Ap FROM FRANCE. 1. THE mighty ark on Ararat For years has rotting lain ; Its animals released from thrall Now people hill and plain. 2. Eight merrily the happy birds Their joyous music sing ; And flit amid the leafy shade On variegated wing. 3. The gaily-painted butterflies Among the flow'rets roam ; And bees their pleasant business ply To stock their woodland home. 4. While on the stillness of the air The brooklet's murmurs rise ; And all is bright and beautiful Beneath those eastern skies. E'en where a ghastly frame of bones Crops from the teeming ground, The mould'ring monument of wrath Is with bright verdure bound. 6. There lithesome lizards sun themselves, And dart upon their prey ; While rustling snakes amid the grass Pursue their stealthy way. 7. -But hark ! glad children's silver tones King upward from that glade, Where an old man with slirivell'd hands Is dicing with a spade. 173 8. His eyes are bright, and shine beneath His shaggy brows of snow ; His locks are long, his beard hangs down His girdle far below. 9. A sheepskin hangs about his waist, And suits him to a T ; It is a modest garment which Just reaches to his knee. 10. With chaplets green his hoary locks By loving hands are bound ; Coarse sandals keep his aged feet From off the thorny ground. 11. His spade by Tubal Cain was made, And is a tool, I ween, The like of which our gardeners Have very seldom seen. 12. But still in Cornwall, " under ground," And in each miner's hovel, Its very model may be seen I mean the Cornish shovel. 13. He wedg'd it now and then with bark He gather'd from the ground, And hammer'd in with handy stones, But still the blade turn'd round. 14. The patriarch disgusted grew And cried out ; ' drat the thing ;" When past a bat-like creature flew On noiseless leathern wing. 15. He did not see the creature pass ; But from a coppice nigh A band of dusky children ran With wild excited cry ! 174 16. " 0, grandjid, there's a " flying fox, lust eome to oat the fruit !" But Noah was too busy then To care about the brute. 17. He merely said " Just get some salt To put upon his tail ; But first time, as I'm thirsty, dears, Get me some Adam's ale." 18. They quickly brought a pumpkin full Of clear pellucid water ; He took it off and wish'd it was A pot of Whitbread's porter. 19. But as there was no inn about, Of course he wish'd in vain ; So delved away and mused upon The perish'd race of Cain. 20. Meanwhile the children with the salt Were searching for the bat: 'Twas vanish'd from that blooming glade, It must have " smelt a rat." 21. They hunted in each hollow tree, And gazed high in the air, But could not see where it might be, Altho' it was still there. 2'2. For it had changed into a cloud Of black and threat'ning hue. From which the thunder bellow'd loud, And vivid lightnings flew. 23. Old Noah cried " My dears, 'tis time We bolted to the sin-cling ; Oh, mercy ! how the lightnings flash. And how the thunder's pealing ! 175 24. But never mind my chickabids, The rain was wanted badly ; Those cabbage plants I set last night Began to wither sadly. 25. 'Twill make the crooked stick take root I've planted in the ground ; I hope that healthy bud and shoot May soon on it be found." 26. And now to take old grandad's hand Each dusky urchin tries: The youngest two the favour gain, And amble by their prize ; 27. While a young chubby chap of ten In triumph bears the spade, And like scared hen and chickens then The party leave the glade. 28. No sooner are they out of sight, Than with electric speed, Down from the cloud descends to earth An ugly beast indeed. 29. His hind legs shod with hoofs of brass Sustain a grizzly bear ; His paws are arm'd with fearful claws, His eyes malignant glare 30. From out a lion's tangled mane That o'er his visage hangs ; His tongue lolls redly from his mouth, And his terrific fangs 31. Would quickly crush a crocodile Into a shapeless pulp ; And then his throat is wide enough To bolt it at a gulp. 176 32. It is a fearsome thing to see, Where'er his footsteps light, The herbage wither instantly As from some deadly blight, 33. But hark ! he has a human voice, And says with cunning leer, While looking at the crooked stick, " Why, what has he got here? 34. I ought to know that cutting yes ! No ! yes ! it is," says he, " A cutting of the jolly vine 80 well-beloved by me 35. When, up in shining Hesperus, I held my lofty state, Till, by ambition hounded on, I rushed unto my fate. 36. But as those times have gone for aye, I'll drive them from my mind, And think how this delightful tree Has got among mankind. 37. It was not here before the flood ; I've roam'd the world around, In torrid and in temperate zone, But ne'er the grape vine found, 38. Not e'en in ' Eden's blooming bowers,' Where, as the ' subtile snake,' I coax'd the comely creature Eve That grand mistake to make. 39. Which since lias been the fruitful cause Of harvests ripe for me ; And now, I think, I can contrive To make like use of then ! 177 40. Come, let me see. Ah ! that will do, A splendid thought of mine ; A faithful ally shalt thou be To me, my jolly vine." 41. But all at once he hears a sound, It is a gentle bleat ; And suddenly he makes a bound, The innocent to meet. 42. Says lie " You are the beast I need To expedite my plan ; And so become, my foolish friend, An irrigating can ;" 43. Which said, the frisky innocent He seizes in his paws, And tears its swelling jugular With deeply rending claws. 44. Then pours the ruddy life's blood round The vine upon the earth: 80 that its juice henceforth might be Productive first of mirth 45. And harmless folly to the man Who should one goblet take off, And make him round a danger play When he should quickly make off. 46. In fact to be a two-legg'd lamb In all things save the wool, And to be anxious with a friend To take another pull. 47. The last drop trickled from the veins, Nick throws the lamb away ; And looks to where among the trees A monkey was at play. 178 48. All ! then 1 ho is, a monkey small, Of very long-tail'd race. Head down he lianas lieneith a limb, With wonder in his face ; 49. He swings a moment and then drops Down to a lower bough ; He views the lamb turn'd into chops, And yet he can't tell how. 50. For tho' we see the enemy Of mankind well enough, Nor lamb nor monkey could perceive His outline grim and rough ; 51. Nor even smell him, tho' 'tis said He has a brimstone scent ; They must have been beneath a spell That's my presentiment. 52. For down poor puggy comes until He gets a dreadful squeeze, Which causes him to give a yell That would your life's blood freeze 53. If you were wandering at night Upon some common drear, And all at once, from out the gloom, It struck your startled ear ; 54. Murder, and every other crime You'd swear was being done, And then with all the speed you had You'ld very likely run 55. To help the victim to escape, Or else away like winking ; The latter, were you not most brave, Would be your course, I'm thinking. 179 56. And good cause puggy lias to yell ; For heedless of his screams, The evil one his neck twists round, And out his life-blood streams, 57. And saturates once more the earth About the fatal vine ; While Clootie grins from ear to ear, And says " 'Twill answer tine. 58. For now when man his second bowl Of sparkling liquor drains, He'll feel the lively monkey's blood Course quickly through his veins ; 59. He'll smile and smirk at womankind ; He'll practise stupid tricks ; Wrench knockers off, sing wicked songs ; And oft get well-earned kicks 60. For his tomfoolery ; but now More elements I need ; To make my plan a perfect one Some other brutes must bleed." 61. And as he speaks, a dreadful roar Rings through that fertile glade ; The king of beasts* is prowling nigh, Intent to make a raid 62. On Noah's fold at eventide, Some fatted beast to slay ; But ah ! he smells the fresh spilt blood, And grimly stalks this way. 63. He sees the lamb, and crouching low, He crawls along the ground, Then like an arrow from a bow, ^Yitll one tremendous bound 180 64. Ho lights upon the carcasses ; But, in a moment more, His throat is torn, and, from the wound, Ensanguin'd torrents pour. 65. For Satan, fiercer far than he, Tears down the savage brute, And turns the streaming arteries Upon the ugly root ; 66. And soon with grim convulsive throes The monster breathes his last ; And on the lamb and monkey then His lifeless corpse is cast. 67. " Ah ! there's another link complete, That fellow's blood will tell ; 'Twill rouse men to pugnacious heat, And loose their passions fell ; 68. For in the middle of the feast Hot quarrels shall arise, And men shall scowl upon their friends, With fury in their eyes ; 69. Their tongues shall loud and bitter taunts Against each othe,r fling, Till blood the insult shall atone, And loud the death-shriek ring. 70. But now, vine, another beast Must on thine altar bleed, To perfect what I have begun, And fit you to my need." 71. As thus speaks Satan to himself, A mud-bespattered pig Is heard to grunt with glutton glee Above a fallen fig. 181 72. Then gaily rooting in the ground, He revels on some yams ; When he is clutch'd in Clootie's claws As if in some huge clams. 73. Oh my ! the awful noise he makes, As Satan tears his throat ! Far more unearthly are his yells Than those of martyr'd goat. 74. But as he squeals he bleeds amain ; This nearly drowns the vine, And adds the last sad element Unto the future wine. 75. For see, the braggart blusterer Has tippled deeper still, Till like an overgorged pig, He can no longer swill 76. The potent juice, but helplessly He grovels on the earth ; Worse than a pig he senseless lies, A butt for ribald mirth ; 77. Yet seeks again the fatal bowl To drown his sense of shame: Till, by degrees, debased in soul, He loses goods and fame. 78. His friends fall from him one by one As from a thing accurs'd: While hunger, rags, and wretchedness, And ever-craving thirst 79. Cling closely to him in their stead ; Till prematurely old, He sinks, a scorned and blasted thing, Into his kindred mould. 182 80. Then Satan laugh'd with wicked glee, And threw the pork away, Exclaiming " 'Tis a goodly spell ! So, Vine, my care repay ; 81. Take root and flourish, bring forth fruit .- Let men its juice imbihe, And they shall come to me, as slaves, From every race and tribe." 82. E'en as he spoke he disappear'd In elemental war ; Leaving, upon the rain-soak'd soil, Those bloodless bodies four. 83. Old Noah wondered very much Next morning, when he came To view his vine and cabbage plants, At seeing so much game. 84. I should have said their skins and bones ; For, sometime in the night, The jackalls had been there in packs, Above the prey to fight. 85. Suspiciously he gazed around, And scratch'd his aged head, Concluding it was just as well That he had been in bed. 86. But if he then had some forecast Of what his vine would do In future times, I do not know, And so I can't tell you. MORAL. 87. And now some small advice I'll give At this true tale's suggestion ; Thus, first of all, enjoy good grapes, They're easy of digestion. 183 88. And then their juice, if you'd imbibe, Be sure 'tis well fermented, And has a year or two of age, Or you may go demented. 89. Indeed, instead of toping wine In this hot drouthy quarter, When urged by thirst in summer time, Go in for tea, and water. 90. Don't go to eating-matches, where To honour toasts, men guzzle, And toady one another, till They stagger home to puzzle 91. Their loving spouses, as to if They still are men or swine ! But if you do, 'twixt merriment And folly draw a line. 92. Don't wink at other people's wives, Don't knockers wrench from doors, Don't beat your friends, or you may find The law, like Nick, has claws. 93. And any project you may try, And wish to carry through, Be sure that Satan in the pie Has not a finger too. 184 TULIP. i. TULIP is dead ! a dusky, native flower That bloomed (not scentless !) in this desert place, And blush'd unseen in Nature's simple bower All unadorn'd although of ancient race, That to old Adam and to Eve trace back A lineage, perhaps not always black ! 2. Who knows ? I don't and so will not pursue The supposition further, but will state That though no person ever thought her Jew, She ne'er would eat (what Pat would call) the " mate" Of that queer quadruped with cloven feet, Which Jews abhor, but Gentiles love to eat ! 3. 'Twas rather odd, this abstinence from bacon, When coupled with a certain ancient rite Her kin indulge in ; not to be mistaken For aught save that which Moses, that meek wight Upon his son perform'd ; for which, we're told, From Zipporah some slight abuse then roll'd. 4. Which plainly proves that e'en in olden times The " better halves" had tongues which glibly wagg'd As they do still, in hot or frigid climes, Unless by fear, or force, unmanly gagg'd ! And Tulip, well, at consorts she possess'd, Could hurl tongue-missiles sharply as the rest ! 5. And yet she was a cheery-hearted soul, With " perfect" English to express her mind In plaintive cadence, or with vicious roll A tidal-wave of phrases of a kind The most expressive ! but of flavour queer, Not to be properly repeated here. 6. And so I'll leave them out, and say that she Who own'd the name of plant the Dutch love well, A native belle, at one time used to be, 185 Sigh'd after greatly by each dusky swell ; Till old Tanbelta, as her parent's choice, Just took her home to grumble, or rejoice ! 7. And fight with Jenny, who was there before her, At his most simple menage to preside, And who, with jealous rage oft beat and tore her, "When she would slumber at Tanbelta's side. But not one-sided was the warfare bitter, For Tulip was a terrible hard-hitter ! 8. But how both managed to sustain the whacks Which flashing waddies rain'd upon each head, And left thereon, or rather in, deep cracks, Which, like stuck porkers, most profusely bled I'll leave you to imagine, but will say Their lord looked on quite placid at the fray, 9. And would the slain have quietly interr'd Had an encounter come to fatal end ; And, from his conduct, it may be inferr'd That he'd have got some simple friend to lend, Or give an extra " rib " to cook his " bardoo," And pound her rival's head instead of " nardoo."* 10. But both had skulls which, like a clout-head nail, Seem'd made especially for being hammer'd ! And so, when waddies were of no avail, They at each other like two fish-wives clarnour'd ; Until the " gin " of Tura Jemmy died, Aud he sought Tulip for his second bride. 11. That is, I, thinking old Tambelta greedy, Told Jemmy with the lady to levant ; When he, with promptness that was more than speedy ,- Of Tulip made a very pretty plant ! Which so incensed her grizzled lord more lawful, That his expressions were (I'm told) most awful! 12. But as he'd not the very least idea Of courts of law, or spicy crim. con. cases, He hunted like a demon for his dear * Meal. f The seed Bnrke and Wills lived on. 186 And her abductor, in all sorts of places. But by good luck, and on their part some dodging, He found them not in their rude sylvan lodging. 13. Then, bye-aud-bye, his wrath began to cool ; As did the love of Jemmy, that black rascal ! The former found he'd made himself a fool The latter, that he'd lately had to task all His amatory graces, to be pleasant To his dark flame when no one else was present ! 14. So to society they both returned, And went to visit at Tanbelta's wurley. (To leave their cards our friends had not yet learned, And cared not, whether they call'd late or early.) But I have heard that Jemmy had the grace To look uneasy when they reach'd the place. 15. While old Tanbelta wore a sullen air, (Which might mean mischief, Je-mmy knew right well So kept on him his optics !) while the pair Of ladies told whate'er they had to tell ; For both, quite satisfied with the transaction, Felt just as loving as an Irish faction ! 16. And with sweet converse whiled the time away In gossip, light as that their fairer sisters At home indulge in on small topics gay Dress, lovers, children, and new social blisters ; Which last, although they touch dear friends most keenly, They, with prim looks, enjoy, Sir, quite serenely. 17. But as I did not happen to be there, And niggers are not gifted short-hand writers, I cannot reproduce the fun most rare, Which then indulged in, those two whilom fighters. And so I'll just suppose that they, like others, Convers'd about some other black gin's brothers ! 18. (Or white ones for that matter, for they both Were not averse unto a fair-skinn'd lover ; But liked his presents, being nothing loth 187 To take a blue shirt as a fancy cover, A pipe, tobacco, anything in fact, Of such like luxuries that either lack'd.) 19. And so that ruction ended ; though Tanbelta Would break out sometimes, and want Tulip back ; When, like a lion lashed into a pelter, He roam'd about on Tura Jemmy's track ; And had he caught him in a state unguarded, That worthy's " caul " would soon his hide have larded ! 20. But Jemmy, like a weasel, kept one eye Wide open, while he with the other slumber'd ; And though his enemy was very spry, His carcase has not this dry soil encumber'd ; For he, the vagabond, lives to this day, Although, like me, just slowly turning grey ! 21. And thus flow'd on their sluggish tide of life, With Jemmy's jealousy, its only ripples Which made him oft-times " pleasant " to his wife ; (A jealous man is just like one who tipples, He can't get over it when fairly started, Until by death, from wife or tipple parted !) 22. And yet 'tis strange how custom can enthrall us, Black, white, or tawny, and of any nation ! Its beck imperative can always call us, Like wretched slaves unto their avocation ! And so it fell out that this tyrant haughty, Led our dark friends to conduct we'd think naughty ! 23. That is, our Tulip by her pro. tern, lord, Was render'd to Tanbelta's arms and wurley ; Who then, to show how well his mind was stored With notions liberal as well as surly, Sent Wanna Jenny to the place vacated, When, for a time, the couples were cross-mated ! 24. But in such action there was nothing strange, For all their friends and relatives were doing The self-same thing along the Flinders Range, 188 And which, I told them, they'd be likely rueing. But they just laughed, and seemed to think me foolish, And 1 thought them a great deal worse than mulish. 85. But times are changeable, and fancies too, And so it was with .Jemmy, and Tanbelta, And all the rest of that free-thinking crew Who went into adultery belter skelter, For just as suddenly as they divided, Each took his own, and to old grooves subsided. 26. And then ? Well then, for physic some enquired ; While others should have done, but came not near, Who much an Esculapius required, And left this life for want of one, I fear. Howe'er, it did but help to clear more quickly This drought-scourged land, which ne'er was peopled thickly. 27. And after that, I neither saw nor heard Of poor old Tulip till the other clay. And only then, that she had been interr'd In leafy tomb, as is their simple way. And so methought I would her story tell, Which having done, I say to her farewell ! ENVY. i. A DEMON dwells within the soul of man A canker'd, mean, and most pernicious thing, Which, thro' all time, hath been beneath the ban Of saint and preacher ; yet, with folded wing, Doth to his dwelling-place tenacious cling ; And with right feeling wages constant strife, Instilling poison from his hidden sting, Till he ascendance gains, and mars the life Wherein, if not for him, contentment would be rife. 189 2. Envy byname, and Protean in shape, He is all-present in the human race ; From torrid zone to Arctic icy cape He stirs the soul, and agitates the face Of rich and poor, of highborn, and of base. E'en saint and preacher, more than now and then, Feel him within them, wrestling hard with grace, And hinting, plainly, that less pious men More saintly are proclaim'd by Fame's loud tongue and pen, 3. The square-] aw'd cracksman, hater of the light, (Save when he is not " wanted" by the force), Is goaded mad by him, when in the night He to some city safe doth take his course, And finds the little lay a total loss, Because some brother of the bar and key Hath been beforehand to the iron source Of orgies wild, and many a drunken spree, The end and aim of life with wretches such as he. 4. Unto the highborn beauty, proud and fair, He says at court, at opera, and ball, " The Lady Lily has a skin more fair, A smaller hand, a finer Eastern shawl, Or nobler suitors at her beck and call, That still more costly is her jewel case, That royal eyes on her more gracious fall," That Lord knows what about her form and face Is more replete with style, with beauty, or with grace ! 5. The beggar-woman, with her pair of twins, Which she hath borrow'd for her daily round, Incited by his whisper, soon begins To hate the rival who, perchance, has found A pair more sickly ! and whose voices sound With weaker treble on the kindly ear Of soft Benevolence, which wanders round, With hand in pocket, and with ready tear, To give the starving bread, which oft means gin and beer ! 6. The Queen upon her throne but halt, my muse ! If you are loyal, you had better stop, 190 And 'mongst some lower caste examples choose, Where you will tintl a quite suflieient crop To harvest from, e'er you the subject drop. So take the cats'-meat man, whose piercing cry Lures cats from basement and from chimney top ; And watch him well before the tripe-shop nigh, And you will see the fiend run riot in his eye. 7. The general, resistless in the field, Thank'd by his country, and with riches blest, E'en he unto the demon oft cloth yield, On seeing some gay soldier more caress'd, Though with no medal on his blithe young breast ; But whom the eye of beauty loves to scan, As clown life's stream he glides with youthful zest ; Yet, with the strange perversity of man, Longs for the other's state, e'en with his life's short span. The rich man envies honest Hodge his health, His sturdy offspring, and his appetite. Hodge in return, begrudging him his wealth, Laughs in his sleeve at his sad gouty plight, And says, " The glutton oaf ! it serves him right !" But why go on ? No preaching e'er will stay The livid demon's ever active spite ; Though, in conclusion, I, my friends, would say, Scotch him whene'er you can, but to him ne'er give way. 9. And if at times persistently he try To prove that God has been unjust to you, Just search your own affairs with quiet eye, And all the fortunes of your life review, And you may find them of a brighter hue Than you had thought. Now, let the envied state Be analysed, and you will see how few Its real blessings, though of gold its plate ; For pomp and pride oft kill the pleasures of the great. 191 RICHES. PHILOSOPHERS and Saints may sneer At " filthy lucre" gathered here ; Just let them say their say. But watch them well, and you may see Them selfish to the last degree, In Life's parts each may play. For saints and sinners clutch at pelf, And pouch it if they can, For love of gain, and love of self Are wedded fast in man ! Money ! 'tis funny How love of thee can sway ; Till Death's dart, with fell smart Drives it, and Life away ! For Money, winsome maidens sell Themselves to Age ; and often dwell In misery and sin. And bosom friends, when interests clash, Of enmity soon feel the lash, Their inmost souls within. While gallant men, in aught beside, For it their honour fling ! For rough-shod o'er us it can ride, And conquer Conscience's sting. Tho' cash, sirs, is trash, sirs, How strong are golden chains, To gag us, and drag us To grovel in our gains ! Yet it is good, bright gold to win, In Life's stern battle's press and din, As store to have at hand To form a potent barricade 'Gainst fell Misfortune's force, array'd In haggard sullen band ; And, as we march along through life, To have our mite to give, And, shunning avaricious strife, To let our neighbour live. Then earn ye ! nor spurn ye The yellow shining store ; But air it, and share it, With Merit at your door ! 192 THE AUSTRALIAN MAGPIE'S SONG. LIST, list to my musical song with delight, As ! hail the hriglit advent of dawn, When bashful Aurora comes robed in soft light, And smiles on the day newly born ; While Echo, who lurks in each shadowy dell, Repeats the sweet bars of my musical swell ! Or better, when Phoebe, the queen of the night, Floods valleys and hill with her rays, My vespers I warble from gum-tree's tall height, And Nature seems sooth'd by niy lays ; While Echo, who lurks in each shadowy dell, Repeats the sweet bars of my musical swell ! Xo rival have I in this land of the free, Whose music with mine can compare ; And lovers at eventide oft list to me, When wattle-bloom scents the wild air ; While Echo, who lurks in each shadowy dell, Repeats the sweet bars of my musical swell ! SELF-RELIANCE. MARCH on ! march on ! thou mortal bold, In the van of life be thou enroll'd, And breathe thou, aye, defiance To Fate whose darts shall blunted be On stubborn armour worn by thee, Of sturdy " Self-Reliance." March on ! march on ! with courage high, With manful heart and stedfast eye, And charge, with cheer like thunder, Misfortune's legions ! whose array, With gloomy banners, bar thy way. And fain would bear thee under. March on ! march on 1 with Hope to lead, And Faith to aid in time of need, And Fortune's steep rock clamber. And should'st thou fall upon the way, Like a man in harness, pass away To Death's calm realms of slumber. 193 SONG OF THE DRINK DEMON. HA, ha ! Ha, ha ! with a loud guffaw, I laugh at my slaves as they throng to me. Tis little I care for right and law, Tis they who go to the gallows-tree ; While, stalking forth in the glare of day, I set my snares by the Queen's highway. They come ! They come ! and they have no fears As I lure them on with my sparkling bait, To the fatal bowl that they fancy cheers Their foolish hearts, as they tempt their fate ; For the yawning gulf of ruin lies At their very feet, but I blind their eyes. They come ! They come ! and they sip and sip, Strong men with caution, fair women by stealth ; Soon laid aside for the thirsty lip Heeds not in its greed fair fame or health. Good angels seek to save in vain Oh, I herd them soon in my ghastly train ! They come ! They come ! and my fangs sink deep In their very souls, while my poison creeps Through heart and brain, as they near the steep And treacherous brink ; while Friendship weeps The headlong, downward rush to see Of my wretched serfs to their misery. They come ! They come ! though wise men warn, Though their parents beg, or their children weep. " Drink ! drink !" I cry ; and with stupid scorn They laugh at fate, as they downward leap, To the dismal, dark, unfathomed slough, Where reigns foul Want, with its sin-scarr'd brow. Ha, ha ! Ha, ha ! could they know at first How a living death 'neath my tempting lies, At Nature's fount would they quench their thirst, And turn from me with abhorrent eyes. But no, they list to my jovial laugh. And s'ay their souls as my bowls they quaff. Ha, ha ! Ha, ha ! what a throng of ills, Like a jackall pack, on my steps attend Their maws to sate, as my poison kills, And with countless pangs my dupes to rend, Till oft they rush, with a red right hand, To the Judgment Seat, from my soul-stained band. 194 SISTERS OF MERCY. IN quiet village, busy town, Through our adopted land, True women, garbed in russet brown, Seek hopefully a heavenly crown At their Great Master's hand. For sorrow and for misery They search with anxious care ; No sinners vile they hurry by With cruel scorn or frowning eye, But help their woes to bear. With pleasant words, with loving hearts, They do their Master's will ; With gentle hands they soothe the smarts Of fell disease's rankling darts That but for them would kill. With steady faith they onward go With wretchedness to cope ; The orphan's pain, the widow's woe, Are softened by their ready How Of charity and hope. No trumpet blast with flourish loud They sound to tell their worth ; But quietly amidst the crowd They meekly glide, with visage bowed To do His work on earth. Then honour show them everywhere (Whate'er your creed or birth), These gentle souls, whose kindly care Both innocent and wicked share Angels are they of earth. 195 SOUTH AUSTRALIA. AIR " THE ENGLISHMAN." THERE'S a land of fast-increasing fame, Though so lately a savage spot ; Its healthful clime the palm can claim, And who shall say it can not. For the balmy winds through thickets blow, Where wattles shed perfume, No grim Ice King, in his robe of snow, Its winter shrouds in gloom. 'Tis a bright sunny land, deny it who can, And the home of a South Australian man ! There's waving wheat on hill and plain, Fair homesteads in each dell, Where the husbandman can his living gain, And in peaceful comfort dwell. For his children play beneath the vine And fig-tree's chequered shade, When at noon he drinks his cup of wine From the grapes of his vineyard made. 'Tis a fair fruitful land, deny it who can, And the home of a South Australian man ! There are countless flocks of world-fam'd sheep On her spreading inland plains ; And cattle roam o'er each hill-side steep, Where his steed the bold stockman reins. And the squatter dwells by the winding creek, Which the grand old gum-trees shade. ! never in vain need the stranger seek For a meal, but is welcome made. For 'tis freedom's land, deny it who can, And the home of a South Australian man ! There's gleaming gold in each torrent's bed, There are mines in the earth below, Where the miner well may earn his bread If he works with a steady blow. Then her shipping sails to every land, And rich products bear away ; While wealth flows back to the hardy band That has come to her shores to stay. 'Tis a prosperous land, deny it who can, And the home of a South Australian man ! 196 THE TALE OF A TEKBIBLE TEAR i. AWAY to the northward of famed Port Augusta For commerce, for beauty, and lastly for dust, a Nice place, quite unequall'd ; and where merchants trust a (ireat deal to, they don't care a fig who 'tis Stretch (ridged well with sandhills), the plains yclept " Western," From which, in the summer, the tourist had best turn, Unless he would view a place (really at best, stern), When dry as a bald mummy's wig it is. 2. They are girt to the westward by that immense cesspool Call'd grandly " Lake Torrens," but which is a messpool As black, when you're in it, as many a less pool Which oft has a pestilence started ; Black, sticky as bird-lime, with saltest salt water, Excell'd not, in that line, in any salt quarter ; Not even by that where Eve's back-looking daughter In the shape of a salt-pillar parted 3. From Lot, her good man, when he ran from Gomorrah And Sodom. But she, looking backward in sorrow, Became a salt statue ! and he, on the morrow, Bewailed her (I hope with sincerity). Again to the eastward a lofty range hinders The outward-bound view, and is named after Flinders ; (Some say not volcanic, although we find cinders Quite near it, and slag to a verity 4. And so my premises were 'gainst their geology, For which I must humbly now tend an apology, As no doubt my notion arose from parology An old crater, " the Pound," to be thinking); But 'tis not a nice place, for I've been to the top of it, Where granite abounds, yea, a very fine crop of it, But water, in summer, there is not a drop of it, Save quite at the bottom, for drinking. 5. Yet not about there is the scene of my story, But far in the sandhills, where, all in its glory, A dense scrub is growing in rotten sand, pory And useless for ought except woolspoiling. 197 But where a few squatters, with trials unceasing, Strove steadily on, some with fortunes increasing Till '64' s drought took, with runs they were leasing, The whole of the fruits of their long toiling. 6. Then the plains, like the rest of the North, were deserted, Which, as well as the squatters, their foes disconcerted In fact the most bitter, and those who most hurt did, Then went in for lessee encouraging. The squatters brought back their few jumbucks remaining, When they, in strange quarters, heard how it was raining Upon that parched land, after years of refraining ; They glad were, indeed, to leave foraging. 7. Then they dug out the huts and the stockyards and wells again From red glaring sand-drifts ; and working bulls' bells again Tinkled at night on the hills and in dells again, While wild dogs the sheep again worried. For though all the rodents, except the tall " Coodla,"* And banded rock-wallabies, up on Nooroodla,f Were all past recalling from long lack of food la Dingo etjils, still their coats curried. 8. And were, and are still, as jolly as sandboys (Whatever that means I expect though, not grand boys, But tatterdemallion young organ or band boys, And they are what dingoes are jolly as), And as mischievous too that I know to my sorrow ; And so I invested (I don't care to borrow) In sundry steel traps, which were set on the morrow To teach a few dingoes what folly was. 9. But now come with me to Lake Torrens' border, A wild, lonely place, where thick scrub is the order Dame Nature insists upon, much as disorder Like measles, she sows on man's cuticle ! Where soft, lofty sandhills run closely together, And spines will intrude, till you scarcely know whether You won't have to take to twin garments of leather, When prickles or mulga sticks, you tickle ! * Kangaroo. f Native name for Mount Eyre. 198 10. The sun is declining, but still brightly shining, When, hark ! by that black oak, what can it be whining ? (Or rather, what can they, for I am opining 'Tis made by two singular creatures.) But just as I'm speaking 1 , a curious squeaking Joins in like a chorus ; so let us be seeking The gifted performers ! Ah ! see, 'tis two sneaking Sleek dingoes, with lupuline features. 11. And there, on the sandy soil sprawling, quite handy, A clutch of fine puppies crawl, blunt-nosed and bandy, Around a large lizard, which once was a dandy ! (Perhaps far too gay for a sauri n.) But now 'tis affecting to see them dissecting The poor defunct " Berdna," his scales not protecting His inward format'on from those now inspecting It well, by the method Ca?sarian. 12. And the students themselves, loving brothers and sisters, Sweet tempers are showing, as if they had blisters On some tender places ; for though they're not fisters, They worry each other delightfully ; But maybe 'tis only a thirsting for knowledge Which makes them so eager in that sylvan college To study minutely in this their " dog's doll-age," The creature they fight for so spitefully. 13. But there is another not happy, the mother Who glares at her master, as though she could smother Or finish his breathing by some means or other. What has he been doing, I wonder ? From swift glances flying not what they are saying I rather suspect that lie well deserves flaying Most likely from virtue's stern path some slight straying Has happen'd, his mate's love to sunder ! 14. Or else, without reason, she's horribly jealous ; But still, I don't think so, for he is too zealous In that rural mansion, or rather rude dell-house, To get in, once more, her good graces. Through pond he wants dragging ! for see how he's wagging His great bushy tail, while she's shrcwishly nagging. Why, he won't even hint that she well deserves gagging. Yes, guilt in his rascally face is ! 199 15. Yet somehow or other there's something about him A deal to his credit, although we so doubt him. He's keeping his temper, howe'er she may flout him, And then he's so jaunty and festive ; Besides, lie don't linger to glance once behind him, But looks as if Lupie might not quickly find him ; For oft' on hi.s travels, with no one to mind him, He goes from his helpmate so restive. 16. Who, dropping her tail and her bristles together, Returns to her litter, in doubt as to whether Her Frisky may ever come back to her tether ; Perhaps she wasjtist a bit hasty ! But she, and her puppies, as ive can't well drown them, We'll leave with a longing that fortune may crown them With gunshot or strychnine ere summer shall brown them ! How Chang would enjoy them in pasty ! 17. The shrubs are all wet from a sunshiny shower, And so he's avoiding each rain-laden bower, For his fine yellow coat like a buttercup's flower, When driest, he thinks the most dandy. So, over the sand-hills, quite merrily tripping, Our dingo speeds on through the bushes all dripping, Just thinking of lambkins, which ought to be skipping About on the tank-sides quite handy. 18. But never a lambkin is there about playing, Or anything else that our friend may be slaying ; Xo weakly young calf or a nanny-goat straying ; The wild is a wilderness silent ! But little that troubles our frolicsome dingo, Who would, I believe, scarcely notice a pingo,* For, ah ! by a fence there is something, by jingo ! At which he gives what's for a smile meant. 19. Yes, there, 'twixt the wires, two bright eyes are shining Above a slim mouth, most delightfully whining, (At least, to our masculine dingo's opining, And he is a judge of ability.) Two velvetty ears, cocking forward quite knowingly, A lithe slender body which wiggles quite flowingly, At which our friend Frisky twists his about wooingly, And capers to show his agility. *Ant-cater. goo 20. But here I must say that, with sorrow ami sadness, I view the false Frisky's expressions of gladness. His fjioM at homo ! why, it really is badness Quite, counter to Honor's commanding ! But ears when not hearing, and eyes when not seeing Are never offended, and so in his spreeing, With this soothing maxim is always agreeing Our dingo of line understanding ! 21. And so his cold nose to the nose of the stranger He lovingly thrusts, not imagining danger In the shape of a trap, newly set by the ranger Where his tail marks a circle's diameter ! A terrible trap, with a newly-oil'd trigger, And terrible jaws, which would hold a wild nigger, Or leave him at best but a one-legged figure, Or what my friend Pat calls " a lameter." 22. A bold rakish leer, he just gives, and a wriggle, To which I'm afraid she returns a light giggle, Which makes our bad Frisky his thick brush to wiggle A motion in prudence most wanting ! For just when it popped on the sand so delusive, The trigger is sprung (an event not conducive To poor Frisky's fun) and an ending conclusive Is put to his wild galavanting. 23. With sharp yells resounding, whose echoes rebounding Quick startle the parrots from Mulga's surround ng, He bites at the vile trap his tail now impounding, And even would bite his Delilah ! But the terrible snap which the trap made when closing, Gave her nerves sucli a shock, she required composing ; And now a dim vista is rapidly closing, On the tail of that faithless young smiler. 24. Oh ! why had his thoughts from his fair Lupulina E'er wandered a moment ? ah ! would that he'd been a Poor exile like " Nap." on the famed St. Helena, So his tail were well out of its trouble ! But then 'tis a strong one, as well as a long one ; And that terrible trap, why, it just is the wrong one To let go its hold, even should it have wrong done ; And so there's an <-nd to the bubble 201 25. Of hope, which at first might poor Frisky be cheering ! Its teeth, tho' so strong, are too blunt to be tearing His fine furry tail and then, as for his clearing Its great ruthless jaws now so firmly adhering The springs are too strong for such action ; So, howling and springing, and on the ground flinging His sand-besoil'd body is nought towards bringing Himself from the troublesome trap to him clinging ; Oh ! he is approaching distraction ! 26. And he tries to bolt off, but his tail gives due warning His tether's length reach'd, which lie cannot be scorning ; Oh ! nought can he now do by scheming or fawning The trap has a grip inexorable ! He raves and he swears in a dingo's wild fashion When in a cold fright or a boiling hot passion ; But the trap is of steel, sans all fear or compassion, And he's in a state most deplorable. 27. But, ah ! there's a beaming of comfort still gleaming Not so hard is his fate as it look'd at first seeming, And Frisk may escape yet, by means of some scheming, For of hide is his torment's tough tether ; And his teeth that the steel has left broken and bleeding- Are still in condition for biting and feeding And now gnaw a spring which, by slipping, is leading Them down to the " makings of leather.'' 28. But, then, how would leather and hide put together Resist Frisky's grinders ? Who thinks as to whether He won't leave where his tail is exposed to the weather, Like M sop's famed fox in the fable ! And soon his fierce snapping results not in gapping, But severs the hide with its strong double lapping, When gaining his freedom, at least from the strapping, He once more for running is able. 29. He gives one lithe bound like fresh uncoupled hound, And the trap a vile incubus springs from the ground, While his shadow about there no longer is found, He is off like the hunt of St. Hubert. Don't talk of a cur with an ending of kettle ! None ever ran yet with the half of Frisk's mettle, For he is, no doubt, in a fine racing fettle, And could with a good coursing few spurt. 202 30. A great greedy shark giving chase to a sailor A harpoon just stuck in a whale by a whaler A needle, point upward, sat down on by tailor Are things to produce locomotion. And so are fierce tigers let loose from menageries, Or pompous policeman when after a cadger he's K mining like winking, till he, like a badger, is Quite blown out with wrath and swift motion. 31. But what are they all to the trap on Frisk's narrative ? He flashes like light, or hot water through narrow sieve ! Oh ! dear, what a pace ! sure for long it can never live, Unless he's possessed of a devil ! O'er plain and o'er sandhill, how scrubby no matter, He races top-speed, just as mad as a hatter ; The trap bounding after with bump, thump, and clatter. Nought could touch him at all on the level ! 32. But now, by sad chance, not at all of his seeking, He makes a bee line for his puppies all squeaking, Where poor Lupulina, who feels rather peeking, Is listlessly strolling quite near 'em. And like a chain-shot through the startled air flashing, Or typhoon of hardware thro' tulip-bed crashing, The engine and Frisk of five pups made a hashing Ere Lupe from their passage can clear 'em ! 33. (A loss ! by-the-bye, man ! for no mutton-pie man Is there to convert them to " pies " in his high can, Or turn them to sausages " German" by sly plan.) Frisk now is not careful of trifles ! Lupe gives him one glance, full of anger and sorrow, Then thinks of the wigging she'll give him to-morrow ! And wonders where he that fell fury could borrow ! But he's off like pea-bullets from rifles ! 34. Oh, on, speeds poor Frisky, on errand so risky, Demolishing bushes the Cornish call " kiskee,"* And next knocking over a " boomer " quite frisky, But never delaying to worry him. Through a large flock of sheep, and without even biting them, And almost too fast to be even affrighting them, He leaves them to wonder why he is thus slighting them, And to fancy that something must flurry him. * Decayed. 203 35. On, on, and still on, with a motion unceasing , By night and by day and with haste still increasing, Thro' sunshine and storm ; and e'en death there's no peace in, For he keeps up a gallop eternal. Yea, on, and still on, tho' defunct, Frisk's careering, His looks as time passes becoming less cheering ; For bones thro' his once glossy skin are appearing, He presents an appearance infernal. 36. And I have no doubt that his skeleton ghastly Will race on wild nights, and will frighten folk vastly The rusty trap clinging, of course, to his " lastly." Oh ! they'll think him a ghostly hyena ! And their fears his proportions will so magnify As he hurtles along 'neath the thunder-vex'd sky, That ] fancy the more superstitious will fly From the wild woods of Wallelberdina ! 37. MORAL. Now, Benedicts all, when you leave your fond spouses, Don't visit queer friends at their shady town houses, And where (ungrammatic'ly speaking) such rows is, Or you'll know what a trap is, that's certain ! And do not go leering at servant girls pretty. Whatever their names be Jane, Martha, or Kitty Unless you would find yourselves objects of pity, And also of lectures called " curtain !" 38. And so from poor Frisky's sad story take warning, And do not this fine moral lesson be scorning, Or sometime or other you'll understand pawning Or maybe, too well, do some writing For though Frisky's friend did so suddenly vanish, You might attain some not so easy to banish, Whose "clinging affection," far stronger than clanish, Your whole after-life might be blighting. 39. Not to speak of the time when your dim earthly taper Expires, and yourself on the Styx bank must vapour (I mean your vex' d shade,) which with many a caper Will try to gain Charon's attention. But he'll only pole on with his craft leaking badly (In which, ne'ertheless, you would stow yourself gladly,) And leave you behind him to think over sadly Those sins which I cannot here mention. 204 40. And you, married ladies, to men so superior, Don't make for your husbands too hot the interior Of cottage or mansion if once they are beery, or But look at the fair who so try men ; For though even-tempered they are when first starting, And love you sincerely, if always they're smarting 'Xeatli nagging so senseless, some day they'll be parting The ties both of love and of Hymen ! 41. And, my readers, remember, each pater and mater Sucli misgovern'd doings will, sooner or later Incite to like action the cubs in your crater ! (The children, I mean, in your nursery.) So, both for the sake of yourselves and your darlings, .lust keep from their ears, if you can, all your snarlings ; Or else, when they leave your hot nest, like young starlings, You'll look, and they'll look, when you meet awry ! THE GAMBLER'S LAST STAKE. ANOTHER THROW ! I'll try just one more throw ! Double or quits ! No ? But I will, I say ! You do not want my cash ? Then why say "no," And talk to me about " the breaking day ?'' You only fear the notes will ily away From your swoll'n pockets back to me again ; Or, should I lose it, that I cannot pay .Just one more throw ! " Refusal gives you pain ?" Then, give me one more chance my money to regain Tin- same old luck ! Damnation seize the dice ! The devil of his children takes good care ! Here is my l.O.U. And now a slice < )f your good fortune 1 must claim to share. \\V11 try a dozen more don't leave your chair! You would not let me quit when f would go Home quietly last night, and 1 declare You shan't go now, till we the dozen throw! Follow your go, I say ! What ? do you still say no ? 205 " Some other time" you'll give me my revenge ? Then why not now ; My luck is out, you say ? "What matters that to you ? You feel no twinge Of sorrow for the losses that this . PAGE. ]. THE LAST VOYAGE OK TIIK LONDON ... ... 4 2. THE CALL OF DEATH 32 3. THE BUSHMAN'S BEVERIE... ... ... ... :>") 4. CHRISTMAS, 1870 39 5. A BUSHMAN'S ADDRESS TO THE MORNING STAR ... 40 G. THE DINGOES 42 7. THE THUNDERSTORM ... ... ... ... 79 8. A DINGOE HUNT 82 9. BLOWING BUBBLES ... ... ... ... .91 10. THE FLOOD 92 11. No FRIENDSHIP IN BUSINESS ... ... ... 98 12. AN ECHO 98 13. THE FOURTH OF JANUARY, 1804 91) 14. A DREAM OF THE DROUGHT, I80f> 102 15. THE LIFE OF A WORKING BULLOCK ... ... 106 10. THE DEATH-BLOW 109 17. A FISHY LEGEND OF DORSETSHIRE ... ... 110 18. LYRES AND LIARS ... ... ... ... ... 112 19. GOOD ADVICE 113 2o. SLOTH 114 21. To A BLOW-FLY ... ... ... ... ... 115 22. "Go TO THE ANT, THOU SLUGGARD " ... ... 115 23. THE NATURALIST AND ICHNEUMON FLY 110 24. THE VILLAIN AND THE HERO ... ... ... 117 25. STUPID PETER ... ... ... ... ... 117 ^0, SONG OF THE FAR NORTH MAIL ... ... ... 11S 27. BURNING OF THE COSPATRICK ... ... ... 121 28. MOODS OF THE OCBAH ... ... ... ... 131 >!). IN MKMORIAM 131 80. LOST 132 139 207 No. PAGE. 32. THE GUM-TREE 140 33. 110 DEGREES IN THE SHADE 141 34. THE MYSTERY OF LIFE ... ... ... ... 143 35. THE FLYING DUTCHMAN ... ... ... ... 145 36. THE HUNT OF GOLD 153 37. LEAP-YEAR ... ... ... ... ... 154 38. TOT AND BESSIE 155 39. LINES ON THE DEATH OF A MUCH RESPECTED LADY 156 40. DEPARTED FRIENDS ... ... ... ... 156 41. SONG OF THE NEWSPAPER... ... ... ... 157 42. THE POST-OFFICE 158 43. SUSPENSE ... ... ... ... ... ... 159 44. FAME 160 45. THE SOD OF TURF 162 46. THE MORTAL TO His SOUL 163 47. THE GARDEN OF THE MIND ... ... ... 164 48. THE STORM- WAVE 164 49. LOVE IN A CHURCH ... ... ... ... 165 50. GOLD 169 51. MEDITATIONS IN A DUST-STORM 171 52. PLANTING THE VINE ... ... ... ... 172 53. TULIP 184 54. ENVY 188 55. RICHES 191 56. THE AUSTRALIAN MAGPIE'S SONG ... ... 192 57. SELF-RELIANCE 192 58. SONG OF THE DRINK DEMON ... ... ... 193 59. SISTERS OF MERCY ... ... ... ... 194 60. SOUTH AUSTRALIA 195 61. THE TALE OF A TERRIBLE TRAP 196 62. THE GAMBLER'S LAST STAKE ... 204 FREARSOX & BRO., PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS. ADELAIDE.