 | The South-Sea Sisters |  |
9
3. PART III.
GOLDEN MILLIONS.—FORTUNATE MINER'S SONG OF COURTSHIP.—DESPONDENCY OF THE UNFORTUNATE.—THE COLONIAL CURSE; ITS INFLUENCE ON THE BODY AND THE MIND.—THE GENIUS OF AUSTRALIA RISES.—THE POET'S MIRROR.—PROPHETIC VISIONS.—ADDRESS TO ALL THE SISTERS OF THE SOUTHERN SEAS.No. 8.—Soprano Solo.
A sultry haze broods o'er the silent bush,
And horse and ox move slow through streaming dust;
In each man's face is seen the feverish flush
Of hope, or of success; the ceaseless thirst
For gold, which pile on pile no more allays
Than cravings of the gourd are quell'd by desert rays.
Our shining ore
To England's wondering shore
Deep-laden ships in safety bore;
And ships and men, and gold, each day were more and more.
Ah, many a varied song had they,
As Fortune bless'd, or blank'd their way.
No. 9.—Trio.—Soprano, Tenor, and Bass.
A heavy purse I proffer thee,
And Australia's sweetest wine,
If thou wilt seat thyself by me
All in this bright sunshine.
And Australia's sweetest wine,
If thou wilt seat thyself by me
All in this bright sunshine.
Be mine!—and share broad acres rare,
With ores in many a seam;
And hills and slopes for vineyard-hopes
Beside yon River's gleam!
With ores in many a seam;
And hills and slopes for vineyard-hopes
Beside yon River's gleam!
To one I will my heart unfold,
And show a secret mine
More pure and lasting than thy gold—
More generous than thy wine.
And show a secret mine
More pure and lasting than thy gold—
More generous than thy wine.
Come weal! come woe!
What a sunny glow
Men find in a soul like thine!
What a sunny glow
Men find in a soul like thine!
No. 9 ½.—Tenor Solo.
I stand upon the listening shore,
Beside the whispering waves;
I hear the slumbrous sigh of winds
Within the ancient caves.
But whispering waves—and winds, and caves,
Ye only bring to me
The inward song, which echoes long
Through the ruins of Memory.
10
O, faded years! O, wasted toil!
O, wreck-strewn rocks, where cloud-gilt surges boil
Whence comes despondency—
And then despair—
The draught that kills life's energy—
The Curse that drags him grave-ward by the hair!
Oh, if one voice could stem a tide
That threaten's youth's full-blossomed shoot—
Body and mind—marring the pride
Of manhood by a poison'd root,
It should shriek out, as from a mosque,
With force to shake the midnight air—
“Alcohol—opiates—and burlesque?”
Laugh at the warning—but beware!
Laugh thy brief hour, yet O, believe
Life hath fixt laws which ne'er deceive:
The desecration of a fane
Makes walls and altar-flame in vain.
No. 10.—Last Chorus.
With quadrate crown,—her chariot swiftly rising,
Drawn by tall Emus; in one hand the glory
Of Britain's Flag, and in the other poising
A Golden Ship, while her primordial story
A snowy Fleece beneath her feet displays,—
The Genius of Australia now uprears
Her youthful form, like Hope without Hope's fears;
While o'er her head our Cross with loveliest rays
Heralds the brightness of her future years.
What she hath done for Britain, and the world,
Let history fairly tell; what she may do—
Unless by foreign warfares backward hurled—
The Poet's mirror shall in symbols show.
Reefs of quartz and beds of clay,—
Hills that catch the earliest ray,—
Crack, and split, and yawn asunder,
To display Earth's latest wonder!
Through the interval I see
Enchanted vistas, endlessly;
Framed each side—above, beneath—
With gems and aurifloral wreath,
O'er which doth lovingly entwine
Foliage of the clustered vine.
In the foreground, down each bank—
Order graceful, rank by rank—
Fall cascades of ruby hue;
Purest wine of vintage new!
Hills that catch the earliest ray,—
Crack, and split, and yawn asunder,
To display Earth's latest wonder!
Through the interval I see
Enchanted vistas, endlessly;
Framed each side—above, beneath—
With gems and aurifloral wreath,
O'er which doth lovingly entwine
Foliage of the clustered vine.
In the foreground, down each bank—
Order graceful, rank by rank—
Fall cascades of ruby hue;
Purest wine of vintage new!
11
Now, above the sunny rocks
Heaven's vast field of fleecy flocks
Sleep—and float—and creep away,
Softly, as day follows day;
And, beyond—hills, reefs, and ranges,
Forest-fringe to Sea-foam changes;
And the clear, yet far-off line
Streak'd with silver-grey doth shine!
See! 'tis dotted o'er with barks—
Varied ventures—new-world arks—
Destined soon yon shores to hail,
New trades to feed with many a sail!
Opening to life those dreaming seas,
Like seeds that come with cloud and breeze!
Heaven's vast field of fleecy flocks
Sleep—and float—and creep away,
Softly, as day follows day;
And, beyond—hills, reefs, and ranges,
Forest-fringe to Sea-foam changes;
And the clear, yet far-off line
Streak'd with silver-grey doth shine!
See! 'tis dotted o'er with barks—
Varied ventures—new-world arks—
Destined soon yon shores to hail,
New trades to feed with many a sail!
Opening to life those dreaming seas,
Like seeds that come with cloud and breeze!
Change again, thou mirror'd Scene!
Albion's cliffs 'midst breakers stand:
Grandly now another land
Looms above the misty screen!
White cliffs also make advance
Meeting their royal sister—France!
Tempests from the ice-crown'd North,
Hurl'd on one, roll back from both—
Or friendship breaks like ocean froth.
For old traditions of Power are fed
With the lasting breath of a Great Death-bed;
And remember, Queen of the world of Sea
Greece, once, and Rome, were proud like thee!
Albion's cliffs 'midst breakers stand:
Grandly now another land
Looms above the misty screen!
White cliffs also make advance
Meeting their royal sister—France!
Tempests from the ice-crown'd North,
Hurl'd on one, roll back from both—
Or friendship breaks like ocean froth.
For old traditions of Power are fed
With the lasting breath of a Great Death-bed;
And remember, Queen of the world of Sea
Greece, once, and Rome, were proud like thee!
Change again! and I behold
The ponderous paws of a lion old,
Folded across, all drowsily:
His gorged body and brain
As grey as his mane;
Too rigid to act, and disdaining to see,
And leaving thus his far-spread dominions
For spoil or pollution of harpy pinions,
Till his own forest, overgrown,
May crush with falling trunks his ancient throne!
The ponderous paws of a lion old,
Folded across, all drowsily:
His gorged body and brain
As grey as his mane;
Too rigid to act, and disdaining to see,
And leaving thus his far-spread dominions
For spoil or pollution of harpy pinions,
Till his own forest, overgrown,
May crush with falling trunks his ancient throne!
What for us?—show all that's coming!
Good, or evil—neither—both?
Ruin—pause—or mighty progress—
Glorious age, or death in youth?
Something, all unknown, yet certain,
Ever do we strive to see;
Would'st thou dare to raise the curtain,
If't were offered now to thee?
In yon clouds that move majestic,
Varying faces, forms, and powers,
In the Present show the Future,—
But to other eyes than ours.
Better so, than to fore-run
Our destined race,—
And standing in some lonely place,
See our own setting sun!
Good, or evil—neither—both?
Ruin—pause—or mighty progress—
Glorious age, or death in youth?
12
Ever do we strive to see;
Would'st thou dare to raise the curtain,
If't were offered now to thee?
In yon clouds that move majestic,
Varying faces, forms, and powers,
In the Present show the Future,—
But to other eyes than ours.
Better so, than to fore-run
Our destined race,—
And standing in some lonely place,
See our own setting sun!
All's dark.—The Mirror gleams once more!
Oak, with moss and mildew hoar,—
Monarch once of mighty span,
Now seem'st thou but as mortal man.
Huge arms and acorns—beauty, birth,
All return alike to earth.
Yet, O, Wooden Walls, transform'd
To iron shields and towers deform'd,
Confront Time's doom! for your old spirit
Each true descendant doth inherit:
Thy youngest scion may impart
Best solace to the grand old Heart,—
Fresh acorns, and new navy-shoots
With iron-mines beneath their roots!
Nay, more;—to all grey lands that groan
With press of bodies, till each stone
Hath stronger tenure of the whole
Than any poor-born starving soul,
Vast fertile tracts, like open arms,
Offer ye shelter from life's storms,
Oak, with moss and mildew hoar,—
Monarch once of mighty span,
Now seem'st thou but as mortal man.
Huge arms and acorns—beauty, birth,
All return alike to earth.
Yet, O, Wooden Walls, transform'd
To iron shields and towers deform'd,
Confront Time's doom! for your old spirit
Each true descendant doth inherit:
Thy youngest scion may impart
Best solace to the grand old Heart,—
Fresh acorns, and new navy-shoots
With iron-mines beneath their roots!
Nay, more;—to all grey lands that groan
With press of bodies, till each stone
Hath stronger tenure of the whole
Than any poor-born starving soul,
Vast fertile tracts, like open arms,
Offer ye shelter from life's storms,
Ye South Sea Sisters! circling east, west, north!
Unite in Federal bonds for one fixt power,
So shall ye find no sudden evil hour
Darken your future—check your prosperous growth.
Time at your roots hath not one gnawing tooth,
Then wisely cherish each first fruit and flower;
And, all unlike the common slow degrees
Whereby men build an empire's central tower,
Ye may fresh models give for histories—
Spreading o'er half this Globe of lands and seas,
New trades, new facts, new hopes—new Nationalities.
Unite in Federal bonds for one fixt power,
So shall ye find no sudden evil hour
Darken your future—check your prosperous growth.
Time at your roots hath not one gnawing tooth,
Then wisely cherish each first fruit and flower;
And, all unlike the common slow degrees
Whereby men build an empire's central tower,
Ye may fresh models give for histories—
Spreading o'er half this Globe of lands and seas,
New trades, new facts, new hopes—new Nationalities.
| The South-Sea Sisters | |