 | Half-a-dozen ballads for Australian emigrants |  |
“ADVANCE, AUSTRALIA!”
A BALLAD FOR A NEW NATION, EMBODYING ITS CHRISTIAN HERALDRY.
I
Advance, Australia! On, speed on,—Stout old England's brave young son:
Advance! set forth that standard on high,
The bright “Southern Cross” on the southerly sky;
Push forward the banner of Freedom and Truth,
In the freshness of hope and the fervour of youth,
And gain, as prizes of zeal in the van,
The glory of God and the welfare of Man!
II
Advance, Australia! Go straight on,—There is wealth more worthy than gold to be won;
It is well that glittering sparks in the sand
Win thousands of sons to thy once lone land;
For thousands of souls come thus to be taught
The glories of Grace, and the wonders of Thought;
And wait for refining, as gold is refin'd,
By purging the dross from the heart and the mind!
III
Advance, Australia! Nobly go on,—While now there is time, there is work to be done:
Thy sheaf, thy ship, thine anchor, and fleece,
Are symbols of hope, wealth, plenty, and peace;
But, add to them ever the Cross on thy shield,
The holy star-blazon that quarters the field;
And see that thy Sun, in his rising above,
Is rising for Righteousness, Glory, and Love!
FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.
A BALLAD FOR THE EMIGRANT.
England, farewell!—not lightly, nor gladly,
Now, at the last, do I bid thee farewell!
Hope may be smiling, but Memory sadly
Weeps for awhile in the penitent's cell:
Yet, O my country! I dare not regret thee;
Providence calls me to come from thy shore;
And, though my spirit shall never forget thee,
England, farewell!—I return nevermore!
Now, at the last, do I bid thee farewell!
Hope may be smiling, but Memory sadly
Weeps for awhile in the penitent's cell:
Yet, O my country! I dare not regret thee;
Providence calls me to come from thy shore;
And, though my spirit shall never forget thee,
England, farewell!—I return nevermore!
“Go, to replenish the earth, and subdue it,—
“Seek a new country,—seek a new home;”
Never shall doubtfulness make my heart rue it;
God will be with me, wherever I roam!
Duty, and zeal, and need, and ambition,
Drove and persuaded my faith to go forth,—
And, if I fail in my emigrant mission,
Lo! I will fail at the ends of the earth!
“Seek a new country,—seek a new home;”
Never shall doubtfulness make my heart rue it;
God will be with me, wherever I roam!
Duty, and zeal, and need, and ambition,
Drove and persuaded my faith to go forth,—
And, if I fail in my emigrant mission,
Lo! I will fail at the ends of the earth!
England, farewell! With Goodness to guide me,
Pilgrim and stranger, I sail for the South,—
Trusting in Covenant Love to provide me
Food for the spirit, as food for the mouth:
Hope be my beacon, and Hope be my anchor,
Fixing my way-weary steps on a soil
Kind, and uncurst by poverty's canker,
Fresh to my foot, and free to my toil!
Pilgrim and stranger, I sail for the South,—
Trusting in Covenant Love to provide me
Food for the spirit, as food for the mouth:
Hope be my beacon, and Hope be my anchor,
Fixing my way-weary steps on a soil
Kind, and uncurst by poverty's canker,
Fresh to my foot, and free to my toil!
There, for the Thames is my clear Yarra-Yarra;
There, in bright Melbourne my London shall be;
There, far away, shall the wild Illawarra
Smile as the Devonshire valleys for me!
There shall my flocks—my flocks, not another's,—
Pasture on hills that are sprinkled with gold;
There, among neighbours, all freemen and brothers,
May I grow better, and live to grow old!
There, in bright Melbourne my London shall be;
There, far away, shall the wild Illawarra
Smile as the Devonshire valleys for me!
Pasture on hills that are sprinkled with gold;
There, among neighbours, all freemen and brothers,
May I grow better, and live to grow old!
There, in the midst of plentiful blessing,
Let me be gratefully zealous, and win
Souls to the Lord, from the lust of possessing,
Sons to be free, from the servants of sin;—
There, though I came a poor pilgrim and stranger,
Round the rich patriarch children shall dwell,—
Therefore, to poverty, trouble, and danger,
To these, as to thee, dear old England, farewell!
Let me be gratefully zealous, and win
Souls to the Lord, from the lust of possessing,
Sons to be free, from the servants of sin;—
There, though I came a poor pilgrim and stranger,
Round the rich patriarch children shall dwell,—
Therefore, to poverty, trouble, and danger,
To these, as to thee, dear old England, farewell!
AUSTRALIA EMANCIPATED.
A BALLAD FOR COLONIAL PATRIOTS.
Rejoice, O Land! our golden Land!
Be glad, our glorious clime!
We are quit of the curse of the convict-band,
We are free from the taint of crime.
Be glad, our glorious clime!
We are quit of the curse of the convict-band,
We are free from the taint of crime.
Rejoice, and be glad! for the God of all grace
Hath heard our prayers at length,—
And bids Australia run her new race,
As the Sun going forth in his strength!
Hath heard our prayers at length,—
And bids Australia run her new race,
As the Sun going forth in his strength!
No more shall the festering prison-bark
Bring hither its cargo of strife,
But every ship, as a Noah's Ark,
Shall pour forth love and life.
Bring hither its cargo of strife,
But every ship, as a Noah's Ark,
Shall pour forth love and life.
No longer Guilt, all greedy for gold,
Shall prosper, and range without fear,
But Virtue and Freedom shall live to grow old
In blessed abundance—here!
Shall prosper, and range without fear,
But Virtue and Freedom shall live to grow old
In blessed abundance—here!
Old England's wisest, purest, and best,
Shall flock to this happier shore,—
And the good of the world from the east to the west
Shall be ours for evermore!
Shall flock to this happier shore,—
And the good of the world from the east to the west
Shall be ours for evermore!
THE CONVICT AND THE PAUPER.
A BALLAD FOR HOME GOVERNORS.
O give no more to flagrant Wrong
The chances you refuse to Right,
Nor let a boon to Vice belong
Wherein the virtuous would delight;
Man's nature loves the new and strange,
With Sinbad's luck and Crusoe's trip,—
While stagnant misery pines for change,
And longs to get on board o' ship.
The chances you refuse to Right,
Nor let a boon to Vice belong
Wherein the virtuous would delight;
Man's nature loves the new and strange,
With Sinbad's luck and Crusoe's trip,—
While stagnant misery pines for change,
And longs to get on board o' ship.
Why should we add to reckless Sin
This new temptation to do worse,—
That, once transported, he may win
A blessing—not a guilty curse?
Alas! how little wisdom serves
To govern men, or rule a land,
When hope of condemnation nerves
The burglar's or the murderer's hand!
This new temptation to do worse,—
That, once transported, he may win
A blessing—not a guilty curse?
To govern men, or rule a land,
When hope of condemnation nerves
The burglar's or the murderer's hand!
Your convict's unrepented crime,
That well deserved the hangman's rope,
Is punished—in a brilliant clime,
With all things new to new-born hope!
While yonder honest parish slave,
Harass'd by poverty's sharp goads,
Can only hope—a pauper's grave,
And work meanwhile upon the roads!
That well deserved the hangman's rope,
Is punished—in a brilliant clime,
With all things new to new-born hope!
While yonder honest parish slave,
Harass'd by poverty's sharp goads,
Can only hope—a pauper's grave,
And work meanwhile upon the roads!
Go to! send forth with costly care
Such foolish cargoes now no more;
But let true worth your lottery share
Of prizes on some richer shore:
Help not, as now, those Belial bands
Adventurous and free to roam
O'er wide Australia's happy lands,—
But keep them to be slaves at home.
Such foolish cargoes now no more;
But let true worth your lottery share
Of prizes on some richer shore:
Help not, as now, those Belial bands
Adventurous and free to roam
O'er wide Australia's happy lands,—
But keep them to be slaves at home.
Fetter'd, and drill'd, and prison-drest,
Well-sentinell'd, and whipp'd to task,—
A living warning to the rest,—
This is the penalty we ask;
Home-shame for such; to moil in muck,
And change their place with honest men,
Whose only sin is,—little luck,
And living threescore years and ten!
Well-sentinell'd, and whipp'd to task,—
A living warning to the rest,—
This is the penalty we ask;
Home-shame for such; to moil in muck,
And change their place with honest men,
Whose only sin is,—little luck,
And living threescore years and ten!
GOOD LUCK!
A BALLAD FOR THE GOLD-DIGGER.
Luck, boys, luck!—a nugget of gold
Big as my fist in the blest black mould!
Luck!—a gallon of bright yellow grains
Dotted like stars in the white quartz veins!
Big as my fist in the blest black mould!
Luck!—a gallon of bright yellow grains
Dotted like stars in the white quartz veins!
Luck? Can I keep it by wallowing in vice,—
Fighting, and swearing, and drinking, and dice?
D'ye call that Luck? No luck could be worse
Than picking up nuggets that brought such a curse!
Fighting, and swearing, and drinking, and dice?
D'ye call that Luck? No luck could be worse
Than picking up nuggets that brought such a curse!
Luck? My luck—good luck let it be,—
Blessings for others, and plenty for me;
Comfort without, and contentment within,
Uncurst by folly, uncanker'd by sin!
Blessings for others, and plenty for me;
Comfort without, and contentment within,
Uncurst by folly, uncanker'd by sin!
Luck! good luck! This hillock shall give
My sisters in Ayrshire enough while they live;
And haply bring father, and mother, and all,
From want and the workhouse to Liberty Hall!
My sisters in Ayrshire enough while they live;
And haply bring father, and mother, and all,
From want and the workhouse to Liberty Hall!
Luck! In yon little heap there hide
My farm and its fields on a green hill-side,
With flocks, and bairns, and the braw wee wife,
And—God's good grace on a good man's life!
My farm and its fields on a green hill-side,
With flocks, and bairns, and the braw wee wife,
And—God's good grace on a good man's life!
BAD LUCK!
A BALLAD FOR THE RICHER DIGGINS.
Be it what you will, brother,—
worse than what you say,—
Try to make the best of things,
or beat them as you may!
For never have I read in books,
or heard, or seen, ill luck
That didn't mend apace, when met
by hearty English pluck.
worse than what you say,—
Try to make the best of things,
or beat them as you may!
For never have I read in books,
or heard, or seen, ill luck
That didn't mend apace, when met
by hearty English pluck.
I wot you've come a longish way,
and watch'd a longish while,
And long'd in vain, from day to day,
for crabbèd Fortune's smile;
But cheerly, man! the longer you
Have look'd for luck in vain
It must be something nearer now;—
so look for it again!
and watch'd a longish while,
And long'd in vain, from day to day,
for crabbèd Fortune's smile;
Have look'd for luck in vain
It must be something nearer now;—
so look for it again!
The blackest cloud that ever was,
eclipsing summer light,
How looks it on its other side?
all beautiful and bright!
The darkest providence there is,
beheld by Wisdom's eyes,
Is merciful, and just, and kind,
and excellent and wise!
eclipsing summer light,
How looks it on its other side?
all beautiful and bright!
The darkest providence there is,
beheld by Wisdom's eyes,
Is merciful, and just, and kind,
and excellent and wise!
So, friend, though disappointed hopes
be bitter in the mouth,
Hope on! for Nature's very heart
is hopeful in the South:
Australia, with her tempered clime,
and richly teeming soil,
Will well repay with golden luck
for hopefulness and toil.
be bitter in the mouth,
Hope on! for Nature's very heart
is hopeful in the South:
Australia, with her tempered clime,
and richly teeming soil,
Will well repay with golden luck
for hopefulness and toil.
Try Labour! No more lottery-work
in digging pits for gold,
But honest, well-paid labour,
in the field and in the fold;
The luck that lives on nuggets
is but poorly off for health;
But wheat, and fruits, and wholesome roots,
are food as well as wealth!
in digging pits for gold,
But honest, well-paid labour,
in the field and in the fold;
The luck that lives on nuggets
is but poorly off for health;
But wheat, and fruits, and wholesome roots,
are food as well as wealth!
POSTSCRIPT.
I
Friend, one last word before we part,—One kindly word from heart to heart:
Where'er to distant climes you roam,
To seek and find a happy home,
Remember, at the ends of Earth,
The dear Old Country of your birth!
Plead for her welfare in your pray'rs,
And bid your children call her theirs;
Tell them the stories of her fame,
Teach them to love Old England's name,
And count it honour, as you can,
In being still—an Englishman!
II
Further: the Book that made us greatOur bulwark-book for Church and State,—
The Blessed Bible—that must be
The Word to make and keep you free!
Cherish it well; let no false priest
Poison the spiritual feast,
Nor add, nor take away, one page
Of that well-chartered heritage;
So shall you prosper, and take root
Where Providence will fix your foot,
And rear, wherever you may roam,
An honest, English Christian Home.
| Half-a-dozen ballads for Australian emigrants | |