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DOUGLAS B. W. SLADEN, B.A, OxoN. B.A., LL.B., Melbourne, Australia





[This Volume is an enlarged Edition of " Australian Ballads and Rhymes."]


IxspiRED BY Life in tue Greater Britain Under the Southern Cross,



Why separate ? I would that we zuere o/ie—

A'ot we, and she, and Canada alone.

But our lost brothers of the Union.

Union is strength Union is statecraft too ;

And what are we if England be not with us,

But a few traders fringing the sea coast

Of a huge lialf discovered Continent

A fezu backzcoodsmen pushing out our bounds

A forced march further in t/ie 'cuilderness.

Through peril and starvation, year by year.

We have a noble future, but not yet

Have we emerged from childhood, and our bones

And sinews are not set to manhood's mould ;

We are not old enough to leave our home And launch out into life like groxvn-up men ;

We could not by ourselves maintain the strife

In war zvitli a great nation, disciplined. And hardened by a thousand years of battles.

We are the picquets of an army sent

To pioneer and keep a steady watch

Against advancing foes a vanguard sent

To carry a position and hold out

Until the reinforcement can come up.

r^A cr



We have done yeoman s service for the State ; But is it ivise to call for separation From the main force, and const ittitc ourselves An indepctideiit corps, because no foe Has fronted us, no lurid cloud of war Darkened our fair horizon f

While we cling To our great mother we are sons and heirs To all the heroes iti her Abbey laid ; Our fathers fought at Crecy, Agincourt, Blenheim, Quebec, Trafalgar, Waterloo; Bacon's and Sliakspere's countrymen are we ; Nnut07is disciples, friends of Walter Scott : Fellow-i?iventors of Watt, Stephenson, Arkwright, Sir Humphrey Davy, and Wheatstonc, Felloic-discoverers of Drake and Cook : Brothers-in-arms of Wellington- and Nelson ; Successors to the Lords of Runnymede, Assigns of the Petitioners of Right, Executors of Englatid's Constitution, Joint-tenants of the cotnjnerce of the world, Joint-owners of the Empire upon which The sun sets never, co-heirs of the Fame Built up by valour, learning, statesi?tanship, Integrity, etidurance, and devotion. O'er land and sea, in fierce and frozen climes, Through eight bloodstained and glorious centuries. Divide us, and loe sink at once to botirgeois. Received in the society of Jiations Just for our wealth, and laughed at secretly By the proud Goveriiments of ancient blood Who ever zuear tlieir rapiers at their sides To draw for fancied insults while poor we, Like good plaiji ij-adesmen, have to ptit our pride Into our pocket, and when one check's struck Present the other meekly to the smiter. But while we Uveas children in the household Of the great Empire, let them but instill Her honour in the poorest artisan Who labours in our streets, and there tuill follow Swift vengeance borne along in serried ranks Of veterans, or wafted over seas. In her triumphant Navy's iron fleets.


Dear land of my adoption, snxr not

The right hand from tliy parent, nor despoil

Thy motlier of her youngest, fairest child I

But rather be united in thyself

With all thy members knit in close communion.

And strive to draw thy sisters east and west

More closely }-ound her, till in after years

The children older, wiser, mightier

Shall be found -cvorthy to assert their voice

Beside their mother in a Parliament

Replete from every corner of the realm.

Douglas B. IV. Sladen,

In "A Poetry of Exiles.*



THE DEDICATiOX , . . . . iii



FRANCIS \v. L. ADAMS, Queensland

The Sheep-shearers, roctical Works (Brisbane Kd.). . 35

Spring Morning. Po:lical Works (Brisl)ane Etl.). . t^^

The Kangaroo Hunt. Pcc'ical Works (Brisbane Ed.). . 37

ALPHA CRUCLs, New South Wales

Trucanini's Dirge. Soii^s of ilic Stars, and olhcr Pociits . 39

EMMA FRANCE.S ANDERSON, South Australia ( 1 842-1 868)

Evening : a Fragment. Colonial Poems . . .44

An Australian Curl's Farewell. Colonial Poems . . 46

ANONYMOUS, Soutli Australia

A Voice from the Diish. Soitl/i Australian I^cgisicr . 48

AUSTRAL (Mrs. J. G. Wilson), \'ictorin and Ncv/ Zealand

Fairyland. IVw Aiis/ralasian , . . -53

A Spring Afternoon, New Zealand. T/':c Aiislra'asian . 55


AUSTRALiE (Mrs. Hubert Heron), New South Wales

From the Clyde to Braidwood. The Balance of Pain . 57

The Explorer's iMessage. The Balance of Fain . . 62

AUSTRALis (Dr. Patrick Moloney). Victoria

Melbourne (in " Sonnets Ad Innuptani "). An Easter

Omelette . . . . . -69

L. AVIS (Mrs. C. Watkins), New Zealand

The Tui. New Zealand Paper . . . -70


Prologue to "The Revenge." Recited at the tcnipo)-ary

Theatre, Sydney, 1796 . . . . .71


Our Heritage. New Zealand Paper . . -73

To the Moko-Moko (Bell-Bird). Ne-w Zealand Paper . 75 The Clematis. New Zealand Paper . . -77

H. H. BLACKHAM, South Australia—

Forsaken Homes and Graves. Manuscript . . jS

THOMAS BRACKEN, Victoria and New Zealand (1843)

To Sir George Grey, K.C.B. Lays of the Land of the Maori

and the ALoa ...... 80

Orakau. Lays of the Land of the Maoi i and the J/oa . 81

McGillviray's Dream. LMys of the Land of the Maori and

the Moa ...... 84


When I am Dead. Wattle Blossoms and Wild Flowers . 94

(sir) i'rkuerick NAPiKR nROOMic, Ncw Zealand and West Australia (1842) On my Twenty-fourth Birthday. Poems from iVew Zealand 96




Tomboy Madge. The Weekly Times, McUotirrii: . . 98


An Australian Girl. iMelboumc Paper . . . loi

ALFRED T. CHANDLER, South Australia (1852)

Bess. J Bush Idyll . . . . .102

Catching the Coach. ^ Bitsh IJyll . . .106

A Bush Iilyll. A Bush Idyll . . . .Ill

.AL\RCUS CLARKE, Victoria (1847-1S81)

" In a Lady's Album." Sent by Patchctt Martin . .116

NELLIE s. CLERK, Victoria

Gippsland Spring Song. Songs from the Gippsland Forest . 118

J. F. DANIELL, VictoHa

The Jubilee of Melbourne. Rhymes for the Times . 121


A Fulfilled Prophecy. A Broadside of i']S>() . . 124

ALFRED DOMETT, Ncw Zealand (1811-1887)

The Prelude to Ranolf and Amohia. Ranolf and Amohia The Legend of Tawhaki. Ranolf and Amohia Miroa's Story. Ranolf and Amohia Tane, the Tree God. Ranolf and Amohia The Pink Terraces, N.Z. Ranolf and Amohia The Haunted Mountain. Ranolf and Amohia



134 136 143 148

LINDSAY DUNCAN (Mrs. T, C. Cloud), South Aus- tralia— Christmas Guests. Adelaide Paper . . . 150



DUGALD FERGUSON, New South Wales and New

Zealand (1840)

The Upper Darling (in "The Lambs"). Castle Gay, and

other Poems . . . . . .154


Sonnet. (On visiting the spot where Captain Cook and Sir Joseph Banks first landed in Botany Bay). Fic/cf s IVi.ii< South IVaks . . . . . I55


The Shepherd's New Year's Day. A J'oi'ce fivw the Bush 156

wiLLL\M FORSTER, Ncw Soulh Wales (18 1 8-1 88-)

From Midas. MiJas . . , , . 15S


Tlie \Vind in the .She-oak Tree. The Australasian . 163

Beneath the Wattle Boughs. The Australasian . . 166

Love's Loyalty. 'I'he Australasian . . .167


While the Billy Boils. Who are You? . . . 170


Angel-Beckoned. Poetical ]Vorks (Melbourne EJ.). . 173

ADAM LINDSAY GORDON, Victoria and South Aus- tralia (1833-1870)

The Sick Stockrider. Volume fmblished by Jl/assina ^-- Co. 177 An Exile's Farewell. Temple Bar . . , iSl

HENRY HALLORAN, C.M.Cr., Ncw South Walcs (1811)

Extract from " Queen's I'.irlhday Ode," 1SS7. foei/is, Odes,

and Sollies . . . , . . 1S4


CHARLES HARPUR, New South Wales (i 812- 1868)

The Cloud. Volume publislicd by George Roherlson ^ Co. 1S7 Tlie Creek of the Four Graves. Volume published by George

Robertson ^ Co. . . -. . .190

A Storm on the Mountain-;. Vohinie published by George

Robertson &= Co. . . . . .199

An Aboriginal Mother's Lament. Volume published by

George Robertson ct^ Co. . . . . 20<

EiJiiXHZER STORRY HAY (Flcta), Ncw Zealand

Isabel. Some Cliaracteristics of Wordsworth'' s Poetry, and their Lessons for us. An Essay, and some Poems by Fleta . . . . . . . 207

A Song ,, ,, ,, . 209

Ideal iJeauty ,, ,, ,, . 210

THOMAS HENEY, New South Walcs

The Hut on the Flat. P'ortiinale Days . . .212

The Flower Everlasting. Fortunate Days . , . 222


My Queen of Dreams. Station Hunting on the JFarrego . 224 Station Hunting on the Warrcgo. Station Hunting on the

IVarrego . . . . . .225

R. H. HORXE, Victoria

Aboriginal Song and Choruses. 7V/e South Sea Sisters .-/

Lyric Masque . . . . . .242

JOHN HOWELL, South Australia

.Selection from the Cantata. Rose-Lcai'cs from an Anstia-

lian Garden ...... 244.

JOHN LiDDELL KELLY, New Zealand ( 1850)

Tuhotu's \'ision. Taraicera; or, The Curse of TuJiotu . 245


HENRY KENDALL, Ncw South Wales (1842-1882)

The Muse of Australia. Poons and Songs, 1^62 Mountains. Foenis and Songs, 1862

The Rain comes Sobbing to the Door. Poems and Songs, 1S62 Prefatory Sonnets. Leaves from Australian Forests Sitting by the Fire. Leaves from Atistralian Forests "The Warrigal " (Wild Dog). Leaves from AttstraVian Forests ......

Bell-Birds. Leaves from Australian Forests

At Euroma. Leaves from Australian Forests

September in Australia. Leaves from Australian Forests

Mooni. Songs from the Jl/ountains .

Cooranbean. Songs from the Mountains

Orara. Songs f/om the Mountains .

Leichhardt. Songs from the J\/ountains

" After Many Years." Songs fro/// the Mountains .

251 252 256 258 260

262 264 266 268 271 276 280 283 287

JANE DE w. KNOX, Victoria and Norfolk Island The Old Love .....




D'Entrecasteax' Channel, Van Dieman's Land. Aurora Australis ; or, Specin/ens of Sacred Poetry for the Colo/lists of Australia .....



English Wild Howers. Ly>-a Australis ; or, Atte///pts to Sims in a Strans^e Land ....


FRANCES SESCADAROWNA LEwiN, South Australia The Story of Abel Tasman. Songs of the So/ifh


E. B. LOUGHRAN, Victoria

Dead Leaves. The Aust/-alasia/i

The Abandoned Shaft. The Aust/-alasian




Balladcadro. Balladead/'o .




GEORGE MCHEXRV, South Australia

The Australian Emigrant's Song. South Australian Paper 325


The Old World and the New . . . .327


The Cynic of the Woods. Fernsha^ve

A Romance in the Rough. Fernshawe

A Bush Study, a la IVatteaii. Fernsliaxue .

The Storm. Fernshawe and An Easter Omelette

My Cousin from Pall Mall. Fernshawe


329 332 334

338 339

JAMES L, MICHAEL, Ncw South Wales

A Selection from . . yohn Cumberland . 344


How we ran in the Black Warrigal Horse. The Sydney

Mail ....... 347

CAROLINE AGNES LEANE (Mrs. Ahcrne), South Australia Australia. Adelaide Paper . ' . . . . 350

The Blue Lake Mount Gambler. Adelaide Paper . 353

The Prospector. Manuscript .... 357

JOHN BOYLE o'reillv, West Australia

The Dukite Snake ...... 359

(sir) HENRY PARKEs, G.C.M.G., Ncw South Wales


Solitude. The Beauteous Terrorist .... 366

Seventy. The Beauteous 'Terrorist .... 368

The Mountain Grave. The Beauteous Terrorist . . 370

On the Mountains. The Beauteous Terrorist . . 372


Dead in the Queensland Bush .... 375

N. R.

The Grave of the Last King of Wallerawang. ManuscHpt 377



On the River. Sydney Eclio ....


^lusk Gully, Dromana. JMclbournc Univcisi/y Revieiu


In Memoriam : Henry Kendall. Melbourne University Review .......




The Birth of Australia. Tasmanian Paper

J. SADLER, South Australia

The Proclamation Tree. Adelaide Paper .

385 3S6


The Bell-Birds. T/ie Htuiian Inlieri/ance The Stock Driver's Ride. Ear(]i''s Voiees In the Ranges. Earth's Voices Australian Transcripts. Eartli's Voices Shea-oaks (near the Sea)

"THE SINGING SHEPHERD" (Eleauor Elizabeth Mont- gomery), New Zealand To One in England. Songs of the Singing Shepherd " Wentwood's Farm." Songs of the Singing Shepherd


Solaced. The Australasian ....

Lost in the Mallee. Tlie Australasian Satan's Ganymede. The Australasian

DOUGLAS BROOKE WHEELTON SLADEN, Victoria (1856)— The Squire's Brother. Frithjofand Ingebjorg, and Austra- lian Lyrics ..... The Orange Tree. Australian Lyrics (and Ed.) . To a Fair Australian. Australian L.yrics . The Two Birthdays. A Poetry of Exiles (2nd Ed.) Advance, Australia ! Ln Cornivall and Across the Sea To the Blue Mountains (N.S.W.) A Poetry of Exiles (2nd Ed.). Second Series ....

389 391 394 396 401

402 404

411 414 418

423 433

435 437 440




A. c, SMITH, Mctoria and Queensland

The Bushman. Australian Paper .... 450

WAi/iKR SMITH (Old Saltbush), New South "Wales

Drought. The Death of Oswald . . . -453


The Midnight Axe. Qiicenslander . To a Black Gin. Convict Once, and other Poems . My Other Chinee Cook. Convict Once, and other Poems Drought and Doctrine. Convict Once., and other Poems A Lost Chance. Convict Once, and other Poems . Quart Pot Creek. Convict Once, and otJicr Poems .

456 472 476 479 483


The Dream of Dampier. I\[elboiirne Review . .491

JAMES THOMAS, New South Wales (1S61)

To a Water Wagtail. Australian Paper . . . 494


Adam Lindsay Gordon ..... 497

Wilt thou wait for me? ..... 498 Death in the Bush . ..... 500


The Poet's Lament. The ]Veekly News, Christchurch, N.Z. 501

GARNET WALCH, Tasmania and Victoria (1843)

A Little Tin Plate. A Little Tin Plate . . .501.

Woolis Up. A Little Tin Plate . . . .512

Wool is Down. A IJttle Tin Plate . . -515

A Drug in the iNLirket. A Little Tin Plate . .518

WILLIAM CHARLES WENTWORTH, Norfolk Island and New South Wales (1791-1872)

Australasia. Bartoii's Poets and Prose ]Vritcrs of New

South IVales . . 5^3


w. R. WILLS, New Zealand (1837)

A Wandering Heart. Netv Zealand Paper . . . 527

A Christmas Carol. A Bunch of Wild Pausics . . 534


Waiting for the Mail. Australian Paper . 53^

THOMAS L. WORK, Victoria

Envoi. Viilorian Printer s Keepsake . . 54^



The Stockman's Last Bed ..... 543

The Bushman's Lullaby. Rolf Bolderwood (Tom Brown),

Victoria ....... 545

Careless Jim ....... 547

APPENDIX II. The Athenccuin Review of Kendall's Manuscript Poems . 550

APPENDIX III. " First Fruits of Australian Poetry " .... 5^1

APPENDIX IV. Materials for a Bibliography of Australasian Poetry . . 569

Notes .....••• 577


AUSTRALIA is the country of the future. Separated by oceans from every considerable land except im- penetrable and equatorial New Guinea, blessed with an unmalarious climate more brilliant and equable than that of Italy, and peopled from the most adventurous of the colo- nizing Anglo-Saxon stock, this round world in the far south- eastern seas gives race development its amplest scope.

The vigorous man must be strangely constituted who does not love Australia, with its glittering air, its vast space, its infinite possibilities ; and strangely constituted the light- hearted girl who does not revel in its pleasure-days unspoiled by rain, its lustrous nights secure from chill.

Those who have contributed to this volume are for the most part people who love the free air of the mountain-top and the mysteriousncss of the forest, the fierce excitement of race and chase, the honest thrill of manly sports, and the glory of nature from the magnificent Australian sky down to the Fringed Violet or the Azure Wren. Not a few of them have, in what Gordon calls the " old colonial days," had their lives hanging on a thread in the perilous march of ex- ploration or guerilla warfare with bushrangers and aborigines. This volume is essentially the work of people who have meditated in the open air, and not under the lamp ; and if its contents oftentimes want the polish that comes only with



much midnight oil, they are mostly a transcript from earth and sea and sky, and not from books.

Not that Australia has lacked poets like her own child Kendall, as smooth as a pebble polished with the tireless patience of the waves. But these are the exceptions, and we confess that for the most part we hope to please the reader with what our poets have to say, rather than the way in which they say it.

What is the raison d'etre of this book? A Scotch paper, well known for the soundness of its criticisms, in referring to it, laid down that to be of any value it must be confined to the productions of Australian natives. This, then, would be an anthology of Australian verse into which admission was denied to Adam Lindsay ' Gordon, the poet par excel- lence of the " old colonial days," to Alfred Domett, the im- mortalizer of the lost Pink Terraces of New Zealand, to Brunton Stephens, to Marcus Clarke, to William Wentworth (born in Norfolk Island), and half a dozen others whose names are household words in Australia. Indeed, the only two poets popular beyond the borders of their own particular colony, who were born in Australia, are Charles Harpurand Henry Kendall.

What, then, is its raison d'etre 1 To lay before the English

' In the first edition we wrote, " It has been customary to spell Gordon's name Lindsay ; but in the Register of Cheltenham College, presumably filled in by his father, who was a master, his name is given as Adam Lindsay Gordon." Still since the poet himself wrote it Lindsay, rather than raise a controversy, we have decided to resume the familiar spell- ing. Not that we consider the poet's evidence infallible, since another poet quoted in this volume, a man of university education, Alexander Forbes, signed even his cheques indifferently, "Alexander Forbes," " William Forbes," and "Alexander Forres," not to mention the im- mortal Shakspere, who has left us as many spellings of his name as he has signatures.



Such being the case, no further answer is necessary to the clever New Zealand writer in the Weekly Press, who urged that by this limitation much of the best work of many colonial writers would be excluded, and indeed, by implica- tion, that all local poetry is a mistake. This volume is a collection of local poetry. Poems by Australasian colonists on non- Australasian subjects will find their fitting place in the Australian anthology without limitation of subject, about to be pubhshed by another firm.

There are, however, a very few poems in the volume in which our limitation has not been enforced : they have only been admitted where some one who was a pillar of literature in Australia yet wrote nothing at once Australian in colour- ing and sufficiently poetical. Such a man was William Forster, one of the most distinguished of Australian writers. His " Devil and the Governor," almost his only Australian piece, is of historical success, but not as a poem, and he had therefore to be represented from " Midas " his post- humous work, finished in the rough only, but a great poem, rivalling in parts the facility and felicity of the " Ranolf and Amohia" of the New Zealand Lucretius.

The next question that may occur to the reader will per- haps be, Why have we so little of Gordon ? Surely he is the poet of whom we hear most from Australians.

Messrs. Massina & Co. are responsible. The real author of a poem which has brought Gordon much popularity, " A Voice from the Bush," ' not only freely gave his permission

' In the first edition an over-careful printer assigned this poem to the editor. After the proofs had been sent back, finally corrected, in de- spair at finding it without an author's name, he copied the one above, which happened to be the editor's. As the editor was a child at the time it was written, any disclaimer is unnecessary.


for it to be used, but has given the correct version of the poem, which has suffered much at the hands of printers. His name is an open secret to all students of Australian poetry, but he desires that it should not be given in this volume. Messrs. Bentley, the well-known publishers, also freely gave their permission to reprint "An Exile's Fare- well," sent to them by Patchett Martin. But Messrs. Massina, a Melbourne firm of printers, who have acquired the copyright of the bulk of Gordon's poems, thought it would be prejudicial to their interests to give leave for more than one of these poems to be used. For this permission the publisher and editor of this volume tender their best thanks. The public must judge if Messrs. Massina acted in their own and Gordon's interest in sending him forth equipped with only one poem to contest the place of honour with poets like Domett, Kendall, and Stephens, whose representatives had given carte blanche. Every one who knows anything of the man would like to pay Gordon his tribute in full, and the editor is more than most men bound to Gordon by coming from the same great school, Cheltenham College, and the same great colony, Victoria, and having a special love for all verse breathing the spirit of Anglo-Saxon manfulness. But he cannot gainsay the wishes of the owners of copyrights, and therefore he must content himself with giving as good an estimate of Gordon as he can without quotations. Gordon has one supreme merit, he is interesting to everybody as much to the stableboy and stockman as to the scholar, as much to the schoolboy as to the sentimentalist ; his poems are " ringing " ; he carries one away like Lord Macaulay or Professor Aytoun in their stirring battle-pictures. He is generally rhythmical, musical, sonorous. Some of his Swinburnian verses, we feel sure, Swinburne would be proud to father. He is full of


homely sayings, that could not be put better if they had been rounded into proverbs in the mouths of millions, in the course of centuries to speak of proverbs, he is a very Burns at begetting them indeed, one can give strangers no better idea of his power in Victoria, than by calling him the Australian Burns ; not that his poems bear the least resemblance to those of the immortal plough- man, but because he is essentially the national poet, he who dwells on the tongues of the people. He is a very manful poet the man ready to fight any one for two straws, or to jump a horse at anything that mortal horse could jump, is reflected in his poems but there was one element lacking in his manfulness. Accomplishment did not enter much into his life or writings. Leading a " forlorn hope," selling one's life dearly, succumbing desperately to hopeless odds, were familiar ideas with him, but not " enduring to the end and winning a crown of life " in their plain earthly sense. Gordon could understand a blind King of Bohemia riding forward to be killed at Cregy, but not a Horatius thinking that he might guard the bridge and yet survive the day.

He could write at least four kinds of poems excellently. His ballads, such as " Fauconshawe," are distinguished by unusual ring, and lilt, and go. His Swinburnian poems, besides their metrical merits, are often, as in " Podas Okus " and " Doubtful Dreams," full of solemn, dignified manful- ness, and, once read, can never be wholly forgotten. His few Bush poems arc written as only one who knew the " Bush " so intimately, and had such brilliant poetical gifts, could have written them ; and his horse-poems are un- equalled in the English language. No other Anglo-Saxon poet of anything like Gordon's gifts has approached him in knowledge of the horse ; and it is as a horse-poet that Gordon will principally be remembered. Indeed, riding and


swimming are the only branches of sport which his poems show him to have known much about. Shooting, fishing, cricket, &c., receive hardly more than bare mention; but in horse-pieces he stands alone not, we think, good as they are, for pieces like " How we beat the Favourite," the best description of a race ever written, but for pieces like "The Sick Stockrider " and " From the Wreck." " The Sick Stockrider " is a poem that deserves a place in any selection in the English language, a masterpiece, and a masterpiece that no poet whom we know of but Gordon could have written. It was necessary that poetical genius, ringing, spirited, rhythmical writing, manfulness, experience of the " old colonial days," and intimate loving acquaintance with the " Bush," should unite in one man before a poem like " The Sick Stockrider " could be born. Gordon's faults are want of culture and knowledge, narrowness of scope and sympathy, and perhaps a little carelessness, though very likely much that passes for the last is due to faulty printing. But wnthin his scope and sympathies, to find his rival we must look among the masters of song, as his laurels in Australia and his increasing popularity in England would show. Compared with Australian poets he is not so musical, nothing like so poetical, as Kendall, but is very strong in Kendall's weakest point- awaking interest in the semi- cultivated. With Brunton Stephens it is difficult to compare him. Stephens's genius revels in the light and delicate, or light and humorous, while Gordon's strikes strongly and vibratingly ; but in their long poems, the exquisitely-finished, highly-cultured, rich, passionate, poetic " Convict Once " is far ahead of " Ashtaroth," as is Harpur's " Witch of Hebron," though Harpur has written very few other poems that could be mentioned with Gordon's. The one man who towers above liim is Alfred Domett, a writer whom it is as impos-


sil)le to represent fairly in selections as it would be to repre- sent the Iliad or the De rerum Natura. By far the principal achievement of Australasia in poetry is Domett's great " Ranolf and Amohia." Through six or seven hundred octavo pages it never drags. It is as full of close reasoning as Mr. Browning's masterpieces, while it is written in rhymed, rhythmical, ever-varying metres. The knowledge of books, the knowledge of human nature displayed in it is stupendous. It has embalmed the mythologies, customs, and tribe wars of the Maoris and with a crowning piece of good fortune has immortalized, in a passage of the most delicate beauty, the fomous Pink Terraces, geysers, and mountain marvels, overwhelmed in the recent earthquake. A charming love- story runs through it, and has its surprises to the end of the book ; and the language of the poem is a model for de- scribing colloquial subjects in suitable, unstilted, but thoroughly poetical expression. " Waring," ^ as Mr. Brown- ing fondly calls him in his poem, has many years ere this been offered his laurels at the hands of Longfellow, Browning, and other great fellow-poets. Marcus Clarke, it must be borne in mind, though he has written a few poems that will always be remembered, made his fame as a novelist (author of the famous " His Natural Life "), a journalist, and a critic.

A page back a comparison between Gordon and Kendall was given in the briefest terms purposely because it was necessary to make a few more comparisons ; and they would

' " What's become of Waring Since he gave us all the slip, Chose land travel or seafaring, Boots and chest or staff and scrip, Rather than pace up and down Any longer London town ? "


otherwise have been too far separated from the opening of the subject. Kendall is, in our opinion, unquestionably a poet of a higher order than Gordon, if being " of a higher order " may be taken to mean approaching more nearly to the level of the masters of song. It is our honest opinion that since Shelley and Keats died no one has so nearly ap- proached them. He touched the lyre with something of the lyric musicality which made Shelley the father of the dactylic modern measures. He had somewhat of the marvellous Shelleian gift of detecting the Protean spirit of Nature in its myriad changes of form ; and, like poor Keats, he could steal the loveliness of a southern summer and coin phrases whose " beauty is a joy for ever."

If one were reading Keats's sonnets and one suddenly came upon these two, given in no previous edition


I purposed once to take my pen and write,

Not songs, like some, tormented and awry

With passion, but a cunning harmony Of words and music caught from glen and height, And lucid colours born of woodland light,

And shining places where the sea-streams lie ; But this was when the heat of youth glowed white,

And since I've put the faded purpose by. I have no faultless fruits to offer you

Who read this book ; but certain syllables

Herein are borrowed from unfooted dells And secret hollows dear to noontide dew ; And these at least, though far between and few,

May catch the sense like subtle forest spells.

II. So take these kindly, even though there be

Some notes that unto other lyres belong,

Stray echoes from the elder sons of song ; And think how from its neighbouring native sea


The pensive shell doth borrow melody.

I would not do the lordly masters wrong

By filching fair words from the shining throng Whose music haunts me as the wind a tree ! Lo ! when a stranger, in soft Syrian glooms

Shot through with sunset, treads the cedar dells.

And hears the breezy ring of elfin bells Far down by where the white-haired cataract booms,

lie, faint with sweetness caught from forest smells, Bears thence, unwitting, plunder of perfumes.

would one reject them as unwortliy ? Can we not imagine


" Longing for power and the sweetness to fashion Lyrics with beats like the heart-beats of passion ; Songs interwoven of lights and of laughters Borrowed from bell-birds in far forest rafters,"

and longing

" To steal the beauty of that brook And put it in a song ; "

or lost in rapture over the Australian October with her yellow tresses of wattle-blossom, as she appears in the haunts of the bell-birds by forest streams, and

" Loiters for love in these cool wildernesses ; Loiters knee-deep in the grasses to listen, Where dripping rocks gleam and the leafy pools glisten ; "

and might not Shelley have been proud of having written

" The soft white feet of afternoon Are on the shining meads ; The breeze is as a pleasant tune Amongst the happy reeds ; "


One word for her beauty, and one for the grace

She gave to the hours ; And then we may kiss her, and suffer her face

To sleep with the flowers ; "


and those sad verses written " After Many Years "

" The song that once I dreamed about,

The tender, touching thing, As radiant as the rose without

The love of wind and wing ; The perfect verses to the tunc

Of woodland music set, As beautiful as afternoon,

Remain unwritten yet."

And are not these Knes pathetic enough for Tom Hood ?

" All ! in his life had he mother or wife

To wait for his step on the floor ? Did beauty wax dim while watching for him

Who passed through the threshold no more ? Doth it trouble his head ? He is one with the dead ;

He lies by the alien streams ; And sweeter than sleep is death that is deep

And unvexed by the lordship of dreams."

Kendall's most notable critic in the colonies gives the palm among his works to his solemn dedication " To a Moun- tain," which we quote here rather than in the text, because, like the two prefatory sonnets quoted a little back, it is a preface as well as a poem of the very first order.


To thee, O father of the stately peaks.

Above me in the loftier light to thee,

Imperial brother of those awful hills

Whose feet are set in splendid spheres of flame.

Whose heads are where the gods are, and whose sides

Of strength are belted round with all the zones

Off all the world, I dedicate these songs.

And if, within the compass of this book,

There lives and glows one verse in which there beats


The pulse of wind and torrent if one line

Is here that like a running water sounds,

And seems an echo from the lands of leaf,

Be sure that line is thine. Here, in this home,

jVway from men and books and all the schools,

I take thee for my Teacher. In thy voice

Of deathless majesty, I, kneeling, hear

God's grand authentic gospel ! Year by year,

The great sublime cantata of thy storm

Strikes through my spirit fills it with a life

Of startling beauty ! Thou my Bible art

With holy leaves of rock, and flower, and tree,

And moss, and shining runnel. From each page

That helps to make thy awful volume, I

Have learned a noble lesson. In the psalm

Of thy grave winds, and in the liturgy

Of singing waters, lo ! my soul has heard

The higher worship ; and from thee, indeed,

The broad foundations of a finer hope

Were gathered in ; and thou hast lifted up

The blind horizon for a larger faith !

Moreover, walking in exalted woods

Of naked glory, in the green and gold

Of forest sunshine, I have paused like one

With all the life transfigured ; and a flood

Of light ineffable has made me feel

^Vs felt the grand old prophets caught away

By flames of inspiration ; but the words

Sufficient for the story of my Dream

Are far too splendid for j^oor human lips !

But thou, to whom I turn with reverent eyes,

O, stately father, whose majestic face

Shines far above the zone of wind and cloud.

Where high dominion of the morning is

Thou hast the Song complete of which my song

Are pallid adumbrations ! Certain sounds

Of strong authentic sorrow in this book

May have the sob of upland torrents these,

And only these, may touch the great World's heax

For lo ! they are the issues of that grief


Which make a man more human and his life

More Hke that frank exalted life of thine.

But in these pages there are other tones

In which thy large, su]3erior voice is not

Through which no beauty that resembles thine

Has ever shone. These are the broken words

Of blind occasions, when the world has come

Between me and my dream. No song is here

Of mighty compass ; for my singing robes

I've worn in stolen moments. All my days

Have been the days of a laborious life,

And ever on my struggling soul has burned

The fierce heat of this hurried sphere. But thou

To whose fair majesty I dedicate

My book of shyness thou hast the perfect rest

Which makes the heaven of the highest gods !

To thee the noises of this violent time

Are far, faint whispers ; and, from age to age,

Within the world and yet apart from it,

Thou standest ! Round thy lordly capes the sea

Rolls on with a superb indifference

For ever : in thy deep, green, gracious glens

The silver fountains sing for ever. Far

Above dim ghosts of waters in the caves,

The royal robe of morning on thy head

Abides for ever ! evermore the wind

Is thy august companion ; and thy peers

Are cloud, and thunder, and the face sublime

Of blue mid-heaven ! On thy awful brow

Is Deity ; and in that voice of thine

There is the great imperial utterance

Of God for ever ; and thy feet are set

Where evermore, through all the days and years.