In Cornwall and Across the Sea :: :: University of Virginia Library

Past midnight had we watched the southern moon
Illumining the long dark points of land
Towards us stretched for miles on either hand,
And the broad bay still as a salt lagoon
On South Australian wilds; and now too soon
The morn had come. Yet I leapt up and scanned
With eager eyes the panorama grand,
When I was roused, a full eight hours ere noon,
By the loud grating of the anchor chain;
For Melbourne rose before me, silver-veiled
From the dark wood of masts, which fringed the main,
The port to which five thousand leagues I'd sailed,
And greatest city of the southern sphere,
Though she has not yet reached her fiftieth year.

112

II

I stood on deck still gazing eagerly,
Till some one came and pointed out to me
The landmarks, pier-lipped Sandridge by the sea,
The Scots' Church, the Cathedral-towers hard by,
The great dome looming out against the sky
Where the world's exhibition was to be,
And the blue hills of Dandenong, so free
And flowing in the distance. Presently,
Ere seven bells had struck, a sailing boat
Hove alongside and, sitting in the sheets,
(Even now a hot wind blew), in thin silk coat
I spied my host. How happy he who meets
His welcome at the threshold. Timely greeting
Is the best earnest of a welcome meeting.

113

III.

And my own Father's brother was my host,
Though forty years had flitted since he went
First forth from his ancestral home in Kent
To what was then the wild Australian coast.
And, though his home and kindred he had lost,
Not vainly had his exiled years been spent,
For in a corner of our Continent
A nation had been born, and he could boast
That none of her distinguished sons had done
More in the moulding of her destinies
Than he, a steadfast man whom everyone
Knew and respected—even enemies,—
Leader of men in every fierce debate
Though only few months leader of the State.