PR 
 
 4079 
 
 B3194f
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ->- 
 
 Far South Fancies 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER BATHGATE 
 
 GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH 
 
 NEWBERY HOUSE 
 
 CHARING CROSS ROAD, LONDON 
 
 AND AT SYDNEY
 
 '^ ^ r-> 
 
 ?r 
 
 Ho'ii 
 
 To the Reader. 
 
 TN presenting these poems to the Public, apology must be made for 
 any typographical shortcomings. While I was in England I 
 promised Mr Bathgate to correct the proofs, but before the proofs 
 came to hand, I was in Canada on my way across the Continent. I 
 am writing these words close to the shores of Lake Huron. The 
 corrections, therefore, were made under great disadvantages, and the 
 reader will perhaps make allowances. 
 
 It would be an impertinence on my part to express my opinion of 
 these poems. They are submitted to the judgment of the Public. 
 
 I must content myself with saying that the author is a New Zealand 
 colonist who emigrated from Scotland in his boyhood, and that the 
 reader may take his poems as the expression of one who has learned to 
 think as a New Zealander born of the same political leanings would 
 think. 
 
 All the New Zealand names and allusions are explained in the notes 
 at the end of the volume. And the Editor ventures to hope that there 
 are not a few readers in England who will share his appreciation of 
 
 Page 5-
 
 TO THE READER , 
 
 such fresh genuine bits of landscape-painting as this, from Our 
 
 Heritage^ p. 99. 
 
 " A perfect peaceful stillness reigns, 
 Not e'en a passing playful breeze 
 The sword-shaped flax-blades gently stirs : 
 The vale, and slopes of rising hills 
 Are thickly clothed with yellow grass, 
 Whereon the sun, late risen, throws 
 His rays, to linger listlessly. 
 Naught the expanse of yellow breaks. 
 Save where a darker spot denotes 
 Some straggling bush of thorny scrub 
 While from a gully down the glen, 
 The foliage of the dull-leaved trees 
 Rises to view; and the calm air, 
 From stillness for a moment waked 
 By parakeets' harsh chattering, 
 Swift followed by a tui's trill 
 Of bell-like notes, is hushed again. 
 The tiny orbs of glistening dew 
 Still sparkle, gem-like, 'mid the grass; 
 While morning mist, their mother moist, 
 Reluctant loiters on the hill. 
 Whence presently she'll pass to merge 
 In the soft depths of the blue heavens." 
 
 In my address delivered before the Society of Canadian Literature, I 
 said : " Accordingly in the face of what has been written here lately about 
 Page 6.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 all the English-speaking peoples sinking their localities and throwing 
 their efforts into English Literature — in fact, generalizing — I venture to 
 say that Canadians should see what is the poetical side of their own 
 surroundings. . . . And Canada is remarkably rich in local subject matter 
 for poetry." So is New Zealand, with her paradise of scenery, her 
 colonists' deeds of a valour in a peculiarly dangerous war, and her 
 native race at once the most picturesque and the most masterful, which 
 ever confronted 
 
 " The flag that braved a thousand years, 
 The battle and the breeze." 
 
 And for this reason I for one feel that I owe a debt of gratitude to 
 poets like Alfred Domett, author of that great epic, '■^ Raiiolf and 
 Amohia" Thomas Bracken, J. L. Kelly, and Alexander Bathgate. 
 
 DOUGLAS SLADEN. 
 
 Pas:e 7.
 
 AD VERTISEMENT. 
 
 OEVERAL of the following poems have appeared from time to 
 time in some of the weekly papers published in Dunedin, Otago, 
 New Zealand ; while one or two have been republished in " Australian 
 Ballads," but many of them are now printed for the first time. The 
 Volume is issued as a small contribution to the literature of the 
 Colony, in the hope that it may not be wholly devoid of interes: 
 to British readers also. Notes have been added explanatory of 
 most of the New Zealand words and phrases occurring in the text.
 
 Contents. 
 
 No. 
 I. 
 2. 
 
 J- 
 
 4- 
 
 5- 
 6. 
 
 7- 
 8. 
 
 9- 
 
 lo. 
 II. 
 
 12. 
 
 13- 
 14. 
 
 IS- 
 16. 
 
 17. 
 18. 
 
 ERIC IREDALE .... 
 
 HAKI TE KURA .... 
 
 HINEMOA ..... 
 
 LAMENT FOR TE HEU HEU , 
 
 THE WOMAN IN THE MOON — A MAORI LEGEND 
 
 IVAN GRAEME — A NEW ZEALAND REVERIE 
 
 FAITHLESS — A DISJOINTED STORY . 
 
 MAUNGATUA 
 
 MOUNT COOK (AORANGI) — 
 
 I. FROM THE MUELLER GLACIER 
 II. FROM THE FOOT OF LAKE PUKAKI 
 FAERIE .... 
 
 OUR HERITAGE 
 
 OTAGO .... 
 
 A NEW ZEALANDER'S SONG . 
 TO THE MOKO-MOKO, OR BELL BIRD 
 TO A LARK ON A SPRING MORNING . 
 THE CLEMATIS 
 SONGS OF THE SEASONS 
 ON HEARING A YELLOW HAMMER SING NEAR DUNEDIN 
 
 PAGE 
 
 13 
 
 40 
 
 52 
 62 
 
 65 
 65 
 
 86 
 96 
 
 97 
 98 
 
 99 
 99 
 
 lOI 
 
 104 
 
 105 
 107 
 108 
 109 
 114 
 
 Pc^-e II.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 No. 
 
 19- 
 20. 
 21. 
 22. 
 
 23- 
 24. 
 
 25- 
 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 so- 
 ar- 
 
 32. 
 
 33- 
 34- 
 35- 
 36. 
 
 THE EXILE SKYLARK 
 PATTERING FEET 
 GANYMEDE . 
 KISSES 
 
 YOUNG ALLEN, THE BRAVE BUGLER 
 THE PRAETOR ^LINO TUBERO 
 woman's power — A NORSE BALLAD 
 FATE 
 
 SYMPATHY . 
 CHRISTIAN ENGLAND 
 AND YET IT MOVES . 
 BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS 
 BROTHERHOOD 
 THE THREE GRACES — 
 I. FAITH 
 II. HOPE 
 III. CHARITY 
 " NOW I KNOW IN PART " . 
 A CLOUDLESS SKY . 
 LIGHT 
 THE SYDNEY EXHIBITION, 1879 
 
 BOY 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1x6 
 
 118 
 119 
 
 120 
 
 121 
 
 123 
 126 
 129 
 
 131 
 132 
 
 135 
 136 
 137 
 
 140 
 140 
 141 
 142 
 142 
 
 143 
 146 
 
 NOTES 
 Page 12. 
 
 149
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 T)ASSION dies but Lovers eternal, 
 ■'■ Love's the essence of our God : 
 Love is old, yet ever vernal ; 
 Passion's but an earthly clod. 
 
 Love and passion oft are blended. 
 In a stratige bewild'ring way ; 
 
 Love, true Love, shall ne'er be ended ; 
 Passion lasts a fleeting day. 
 
 Passion's oft for Love mistaken. 
 
 Passion many a soul enthrals. 
 Yet from it they 'II surely waken. 
 E'en on earth mere passion palls. 
 
 But pure love is never sating ; 
 
 Nearest God is purest love ; 
 Pure love unalloyed is waiting 
 
 For us in the realms above. 
 
 Passion dies but Love's eternal ; 
 
 Lov^s the essence of our God: 
 Love is old, yet ever vernal. 
 
 Passion's but an earthly clod. 
 
 Page 13.
 
 ERTC IREDALE. 
 
 The fight was over, and the victors brave, 
 
 Repose were seeking in their well fenced pah^ ; 
 
 Within whose palisade in whare^ bound, 
 
 A weary captive Eric Iredale lay : 
 
 Right weary was he ; for from early dawn, 
 
 He fought most valiant for the vanquished tribe ; 
 
 So weary, that although his life was doomed, 
 
 A deep sleep held him : but as night advanced. 
 
 His restless thoughts grew wakeful, and he dreamed. 
 
 Thus overcoming obstacles of time, 
 
 And distance also, he bethought himself 
 
 Back in his native town, once more a youth 
 
 Eager to win the favour of his love 
 
 Fair Alice Bain : Anon he knew the pain, 
 
 The bitter pain, he felt when first he learned 
 
 She loved not him, but his friend Walter Glenn, 
 
 Who loved her in return, and who would come 
 
 And pour his hopes and fears in Eric's ear. 
 
 How hard it was to school himself to see 
 
 The woman that he loved in time become 
 
 Wife to another ; and he thought how still 
 
 At heart right loyal to his love and friend 
 
 He went to sea, and sought by change of scene 
 
 His bitter disappointment to forget. 
 
 Again, as stories tell of drowning men. 
 
 Before him passed in seeming slow review 
 
 All his past life, e'en trifles long forgot ; 
 
 And such events as his return from sea, 
 
 Page 14.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 And visiting once more his late lost love ; 
 
 Who, proudly smiling, showed her new-born babe, 
 
 He saw, with every petty small detail, 
 
 As though the scene upon his brain was burned. 
 
 The very thoughts that then he thought, returned 
 
 With his sensations freshly back again. 
 
 And he remembered how he came to look 
 
 Dispassionately on her, though he still 
 
 Warmly loved her, as with a brother's love, 
 
 Mingled with pity, for he saw with pain 
 
 The husband was not worthy of the wife. 
 
 And when once more from voyaging he came, 
 He saw that Alice and her husband then 
 Were drifting slowly sunder each from each. 
 For e'en his pleasures Walter ever took 
 Away from home and unshared by his wife. 
 After the needful absence of each day 
 He would return to snatch a hasty meal 
 And then set out again, with such pretext. 
 As he must see a valued business friend. 
 Or meeting must attend : for he would urge 
 That to make e'en a living nowadays, 
 And, much more, money, one must ever keep 
 In prominence his name in his small world. 
 
 Poor Alice long her husband pitied much. 
 Thinking that all his time was spent in toil : 
 
 Page IS-
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 But the conviction slowly forced itself 
 On her reluctant, that his love was weak. 
 
 Then Eric in the vision of his life, 
 
 Recalled how oft he visited her home. 
 
 And found poor Alice working all alone. 
 
 So he would sit with her and wile the time. 
 
 In pity of her wedded loneliness. 
 
 And though he loved her still, he never breathed 
 
 A syllable her husband might not hear, 
 
 And far from both was any thought of guile. 
 
 And often as she walked on summer eve. 
 
 With only her sad thoughts for company. 
 
 Would Eric join her in the twilight grey ; 
 
 Until the neighbours all uncharitable. 
 
 Would by whispered sneer at love platonic. 
 
 Or meaning shrug, attribute guilt to them. 
 
 Poor sordid creatures who could never know 
 Pure love unmixed with passion, nor could think 
 A man and woman though untied by kin 
 Could have a love as strong and passionless 
 As a fond sister for a brother bears. 
 Or loving son may for his mother know. 
 
 Next Eric's dreaming and too active brain 
 Recalled how soon he went again to sea ; 
 But not on such times did his thoughts long dwell. 
 For swift his rapid mem'ry brought him home. 
 
 Pasce 1 6.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Then rose the form before his mental eye, 
 
 Of gentle Mary Bruce, whose beauty fair, 
 
 Of mind and feature, won respect and love 
 
 From wand'ring Eric ; though he did not feel 
 
 The same intense emotion he had known 
 
 For Alice Bain ; whom, still, he deeply loved : 
 
 Not now with yearning youth's first ardent flame. 
 
 But with affection interfering not 
 
 With loyal true devotion and warm love 
 
 For Mary Bruce, for whom he would have died ; 
 
 As even for Alice he'd have gladly done. 
 
 Yet had in peril both together stood 
 
 And only one been in his power to save ; 
 
 Without a moment's hesitance he'd snatch 
 
 His bride from death, and let poor Alice die ; 
 
 His love and duty joined would make it so. 
 
 So Eric ; who once thought him dead to love, 
 When chance of wifely love from Alice Bain 
 He lost, and saw her wed to Walter Glenn ; 
 Of Mary Bruce became the happy spouse : 
 Proving how ever in this changeful world 
 Time brings mutations passing all belief. 
 Then Eric thought him, how a few short months 
 In fond familiar love with Mary pass'd ; 
 How from his wife he tore himself away 
 To sail o'er distant seas, and how he left 
 Not only wife but babe unborn behind. 
 
 Past 17.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 And oft when pacing slow the lonely deck /- 
 Keeping his watch and ocean solitudes 
 He'd pondered on the mystery of life, 
 And felt the awe full many a father feels, 
 When first he knows, to him a human soul 
 Its being owes, for future wae or weal. 
 
 His recollection next before him brought 
 
 The howling tempest, and the surge's roar 
 
 Drowning the groaning of the quiv'ring ship : 
 
 And then the sullen thud, which brave hearts chilled, 
 
 From beating soon to be for ever stopped. 
 
 And as the green seas thundered on the deck, 
 
 Through Eric's vision broke a sudden blank, 
 
 He naught recalled, till on New Zealand's shore 
 
 His senses he regained, and found himself, 
 
 Of the whole crew, the sole surviving one. 
 
 And, in his dreaming, he remembered well 
 How by a wand'ring Maori he was found, 
 Who led him to his chief, and how for long 
 He feared and wondered what his fate would be. 
 And his great dread lest ocean's waves he'd 'scaped 
 To meet in some more horrid form his death. 
 And how his groundless fears were all dispelled. 
 And he became a slave unto the chief. 
 How divers ways he served his lord and fought 
 In many battles with the neighbouring tribes ; 
 
 Page 1 8.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 But now at length, in this last bloody fight 
 His friends were routed, and himself was ta'en. 
 
 While thus he dreamed, a hand was on him laid, 
 
 And with a sudden start Eric awoke, 
 
 Feeling a pang as though his hour had come. 
 
 'Twas dark, and Eric was about to speak. 
 
 When a warm hand was placed upon his mouth, 
 
 Whose owner gently whispered in his ear, 
 
 " Tangaroa piri whare ; " ^ warning 
 
 That danger lurked around, and walls have ears. 
 
 Seizing the hand he pressed it to his lips, 
 
 For a would-be deliverer now he knew : 
 
 The silently Aroha loosed his bonds. 
 
 No woman but Aroha would have dared 
 
 Such deed to do, but she was different far 
 
 From all the women of her fancied tribe. 
 
 For her own tribe she knew not, nor e'en how 
 
 While yet a helpless babe she had been found 
 
 Lying alone upon the bloody grass, 
 
 Where fierce had raged a long contested fight, 
 
 With nought but corpses of the dead around, 
 
 A box lay by her side, carven with care 
 
 And wond'rous patient skill in quaint device, 
 
 Wherein were laid some white-tipped huia ^ plumes, 
 
 Prized feathers, which the chieftains only wear. 
 
 The box was stained with blood, and as they stood 
 
 Page 19.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 And gazed with wonder on it and the babe, 
 
 And questioned whence they came, and whose they were, 
 
 Forth stepped their great tohunga ^ who declared 
 
 That box and babe were tapu;^ and stooping 
 
 Lifted, and to his whare ^ bore them both. 
 
 Beneath the clumsy care of this old priest, 
 
 Aroha grew a tall and stately girl ; 
 
 Exempt from all the petty tasks and cares 
 
 Imposed upon her sex, by savage race : 
 
 Yet she a helping hand would ever lend 
 
 To anyone who seemed to need her aid : ^ / 
 
 Which, when he taught his love, the priest would chide, (J^^ -|^ 
 
 Forbidding her to so demean herself. — '/ 
 
 The other maidens often envied her ; 
 
 For she was destined for some purpose great 
 
 All knew, for so had the tohunga * said. 
 
 Now in her sixteenth year her beauty drew 
 
 Looks amorous, from all the young men's eyes. 
 
 Of which Aroha still unconscious was. 
 
 When Eric from the fight a pris'ner came, 
 
 Aroha saw him, and she wond'ring asked, 
 
 " Whence was this drifted seaweed rudely torn?" 
 
 Looking on him with woman's pitying eye. 
 
 And as that night she lay awake, the thought 
 
 That she might free him occupied her mind. 
 
 She could not quench it, though full well she knew 
 
 Page JO.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Great was the risk. And as she left her couch 
 
 Her maid attendant oped her sleepy eyes, 
 
 And drowsy murmured, ' ' Whither goest thou ? " 
 
 Her impulse was not checked although she feared 
 
 The captive's freedom, now, might mean her death. 
 
 As she led Eric softly to the gate 
 
 Her fear and pity merged in the resolve 
 
 To flee with him and share his doubtful fate. 
 
 From out the pah,^ the fearful pair slow steal. 
 And hand in hand descend the steep hill's slope ; 
 Then silent, swiftly they together haste 
 Towards the mountain, covered thick with bush.* 
 The restless weka^ rustling 'mid the grass, 
 The flax-blades^ flapping in the fitful wind. 
 And every sound, which in the quiet night, 
 Fell on their ear, increased their startled pace. 
 They gain the shelter of the friendly trees 
 Just as the first grey gathering light of dawn 
 Begins to wake the birds, and on their ears 
 There falls a many voiced twittering ; 
 Anon it swells to myriad bell-like notes 
 All tuned harmonious, and as daylight grows 
 A thousand throats pour forth their richest songs. 
 The grey dawn blushes as the ruddy beams 
 Shoot thwart the sky from the yet hidden sun. 
 And as his burnished splendour he reveals, 
 The fleeting blush fades from the face of morn. 
 
 Page 21.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 Awhile they rest upon a fern-clad bank, 
 
 Aroha urges their still onward flight ; 
 
 Not yet is all their danger left behind. 
 
 So through the forest fastnesses they press 
 
 With toil increasing tiy the daylight wains. 
 
 Then ere the darkness closed Aroha said, 
 
 "We cannot like the Moa^" feed on air." 
 
 She quickly gathered with her fingers deft, 
 
 The scanty food New Zealand bush^ affords. 
 
 She picked some berries, gleaned some woodland grubs 
 
 And eked the supper out with ti-tree^- shoots. 
 
 Then hungry still, together they lay down 
 
 And slumbered side by side among the ferns. 
 
 Next day, they reached an open glen where sang, 
 Its ceaseless murmuring song, a mountain stream, 
 As down it flowed towards a placid lake, 
 Which lay below all glittering in the sun. 
 Then first asked Eric, "Whither do you lead ? " 
 Aroha answering, " I cannot tell ; 
 I sought your safety, and it here we'll find. 
 So let us sojourn in this glen awhile, 
 And by and by we'll strive to reach your friends. 
 If they have not like Moas'^ passed away. 
 We'll travel safer when my tribe have ceased 
 Their active search for their once captive foe." 
 
 They built a whare- rude, of broken boughs : 
 Aroha skilful caught abundant eels,^^ 
 
 Page 22.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 And snared the wild birds, and the fern root gleaned. 
 To cook the viands she, with patience great, 
 Evoked from torpid wood, the hidden fire. 
 Here unmolested day by day they lived 
 In savage plenty, for soon Eric learned 
 Aroha's craft in capturing their food. 
 
 Yet very oft would Eric gloomy sit 
 And ponder on his chances of escape 
 From out the valley and Zelandia's Isle. 
 The first was easy, but he feared it would 
 Result in capture by his Maori foes ; 
 And even if he reached the friendly tribe 
 He could not further pass, but all his life 
 A valued and well treated slave must be. 
 Hard was the fate by which he was condemned 
 To live thus far away from \\afe and home. 
 Would he e'er see his wife beloved again ? 
 He knew not ; and whene'er he sat and thought 
 Intd his hopeless heart dismay would crawl, 
 But he would strive with it, and try to take 
 Such scanty pleasures as his mode of life 
 Afforded him. He scaled the mountain sides 
 And viewed the beauties of his new found home : 
 Yet aye at eve returned his mental gloom. 
 
 At times like these Aroha oft would come 
 And gaze on him with her dark lustrous eyes : 
 
 Page 23.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 Then tell some legend how her fathers came 
 
 From far Ilawaiki, or of Maui's pranks 
 
 And strive to bring to Eric's lips a smile. 
 
 Yet not by Eric was Aroha loved, 
 
 Although deep gratitude to her he felt 
 
 For her first aid, and all her after care. 
 
 In place of love at times he had to quench 
 
 A feeling of dislike, for as he thought 
 
 Of gentle Mary, his true wedded wife. 
 
 His wakened conscience smote him, and he would 
 
 Aroha blame, unjustly for his fall. 
 
 But she unconscious of his evil thoughts. 
 Or sense of wrong, was full of love for him, 
 Who treated her with kindness greater far 
 Than she had ever known the Maori lords 
 To any of her dusky sisters shew. 
 And thus they lived ; she happy in her love ; 
 And he, his mournful thoughts, hiding from her 
 Or driving them away, at times enjoyed 
 The life of freedom which by force he led. 
 
 The glen where lay their home was wild and grand, 
 The mountains near were clothed with sombre bush, 
 Those farther off with yellow grass were robed. 
 And still beyond them rose the snow-clad peaks 
 High 'gainst the sky in the pure mountain air : 
 And when at eve he watched their mirrored slopes 
 
 Page 24.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCTES. 
 
 Reflected from the lake, upon whose bank 
 Moved gracefully Aroha's tall lithe form ; 
 He'd think that here he could have made his home 
 In happiness, had he not Mary known. 
 
 Has human passion aught to do with love ? 
 
 Aye, say the poets, for the love they sing 
 
 Is sensuous ever. It can scarce be so : 
 
 Though strangely blended they are oft times found ; 
 
 Distinct is love's pure ray from passion's gleam. 
 
 Though but the latter, is all some men know. 
 
 Who choose a wife, e'en as some Moslem might 
 
 A concubine select, yet doing so, 
 
 They think they love ; and if the wife be good 
 
 She kindle may perchance some small love spark. 
 
 But true love lighted once for ever lasts 
 
 And far transcends base passion's fleeting flame. 
 
 After some months of sojourn in this wild, 
 
 Eric, as he before had often done. 
 
 Urged they again should seek the onward way 
 
 Towards the coast, perchance they there might find 
 
 Some friends upon whose aid they could rely. 
 
 Aroha ever counselled more delay ; 
 
 " Here we 'mid plenty may in safety live, 
 
 Why should we leave ? To find we know not what ; 
 
 Our death perhaps ; and if we reach the coast 
 
 One of your country's white winged ships might come 
 
 Page 25.
 
 ERIC IRE DALE. 
 
 And carry you away across the deep." 
 
 " Would God, it would ! " in English Eric said : 
 
 Then in her native tongue said, "We must go." 
 
 And so they started. Eric led the way 
 
 Adown the stream, that issued from the lake. 
 
 Which flowing rapid o'er its stony bed 
 
 Was yet so clear, that every stone was seen. 
 
 The air was still, hot shone the morning sun ; 
 
 And as the day advanced a warm wind blew ; 
 
 But soon a steady rain began to fall ; 
 
 Still, on they plodded through the driving rain, 
 
 And when the evening closed no shelter near. 
 
 They rested 'mid the tufts of sodden grass, 
 
 With naught the unremitting rain to ward. 
 
 Swollen with melted snows and rain, the stream 
 
 Rushed rapidly adown its stony bed 
 
 With force resistless, till at length it rose 
 
 Over its banks, and swept upon the pair, 
 
 Who, huddled close for warmth, with arms entwined 
 
 Lay waiting, wearily, for sleep or dawn. 
 
 Black night still lingered when with sudden start 
 
 Eric arose, and cried, "The river's here ! 
 
 Aroha rise, and let us flee away." 
 
 Then hand in hand their way they cautious groped 
 
 Towards where lay, they thought, the higher ground ; 
 
 But in the darkness as they wandered on 
 
 They felt the water deepen as they went, 
 
 Page 26.
 
 J!AR SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 Until they waded nigh unto the knee. 
 
 Halting bewildered with the beating rain, 
 
 Still pelting pit'less from the murky sky 
 
 They strive to know their course, but all around 
 
 The sound of rushing water seems to be. 
 
 A few steps more they take, then sudden fall 
 
 Into a seething torrent, rushing on 
 
 With mad remorseless fury ; where engulfed 
 
 They swim and struggle to regain the land, 
 
 A few brief minutes till they both succumb : 
 
 And in a fleeting interval of time 
 
 Their souls are from their bodies freed by death. 
 
 Oh ! death ; dread monarch, as thou'rt called by some, 
 
 What is there in thee that should make men fear ? 
 
 They have the instinct of all Uving things 
 
 To cling to life, when only life remains ; 
 
 And shrinking strive to shun the dread unknown : 
 
 Or if they think they know what lies beyond, 
 
 They fear the changeless fate inflexible, 
 
 For them, perchance, is never ending woe. 
 
 Yet others hail him as deliverer : 
 And those who find in death a kindly friend, 
 Who meet his coming with no shrinking fear 
 By many a diff rent cause are influenced, 
 Though mostly by the teachings of their creed : 
 The Christian saint, expecting heavenly joys. 
 
 Page 27.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 The Moslem fanatic, a houri's smiles, 
 
 Nirvana's rest, the Bhuddist devotee ; 
 
 The hapless wretch, who weary of the world, 
 
 The cold, unsympathetic selfish world, 
 
 His heart rebellious, filled with disbelief 
 
 Of God and goodness, welcomes death which brings 
 
 A change to what can scarce be worse than life. 
 
 Freed by untimely death straight speed the souls 
 
 Of Eric and Aroha, to the gloom 
 
 And twilight doubtful of Reinga's^^ vale : 
 
 Pausing awhile upon the highest hill 
 
 And anxious looking down towards the lake, 
 
 Round which the spirits of the Maori dead 
 
 Wander a space, and welcome there their friends. 
 
 For from the heights down to the shadowy shore 
 
 No ghost can pass until some kindred soul 
 
 Invites it thither. Thus upon the heights 
 
 Bleak and inhospitable, they pause and wait ; 
 
 Aroha soon descries the soul of one 
 
 She knew on earth, who with his waving hand 
 
 Beckons her down, and so she quick descends 
 
 And welcomes Eric to the land of ghosts. 
 
 A weird and dreary land indeed it is ; < 
 
 The dull and stagnant waters of the lake 
 
 Are seen distinctly in the gray cold gloom. 
 
 And seem as though, they, from the earth's own sun 
 
 Page 28.
 
 FAR SOUTH FA NCIES. 
 
 Had caught some light, at early cloudy morn, 
 Which light, the waters slowly now emit. 
 Within this misty gloom are seen the shapes 
 Of many Maoris, men and women both, 
 Who wander aimlessly around the lake 
 Holding but little speech until there comes 
 Another spirit to the mountain tops, 
 When he who sees it first, attention calls, 
 So that the hapless ghost may not remain 
 Without some friend to welcome it below. 
 
 " How long," asks Eric, " must Ave here remain ? " 
 
 " I know not. From Reinga's^^ vale there lie 
 
 Two ways of exit : " so Aroha tells 
 
 She had from the tohunga^ learned of old. 
 
 The one is by a cave she knows not where 
 
 It lies, nor whither leads. The other death. 
 
 For here the disembodied spirit dies ; 
 
 But death to it is as a gate to life, 
 
 For when it dies it but returns to earth 
 
 And fills once more some human shell of clay. 
 
 All in the vale impelled to reach at last 
 
 The cavern's mouth, seek that way to escape ; 
 
 But e'en when found all do not gain the cave : 
 
 For at its mouth two giant spirits stand. 
 
 Called Greed and Lust, and they are both full armed 
 
 With strange weird weapons, with a mystic power :
 
 ERIC I RET) ALE. 
 
 Which when a soul approaches they up lift, 
 And strive by ruthless blows to strike it down. 
 Those spirits who are weighted much by sin, 
 Cannot escape, but smitten to the ground 
 They die and seek once more the upper world : 
 Those who escape without a mortal wound 
 Enter the cavern, and are lost to sight. 
 
 Awhile they wander aimless, like the rest, 
 Till one, far off, by Eric is descried 
 Wandering alone, as though in eager search 
 Of some lost loved one, whom she hoped to find 
 Upon the shores of weird Reinga's ^^ lake. 
 'Twas Mary's ghost, who e'en as Eric looked, 
 Perceived him, and before he made a sign 
 Had recognised in him, her quest fulfilled. 
 
 They met, and with their ghostly lips they kissed. 
 
 But from that kiss, they took but small delight ; 
 
 Though of their mutual love it was a proof : 
 
 Yet it was lacking in the warm soft touch 
 
 Of that love token, given by living lips. 
 
 And made them truly know that they were ghosts. 
 
 Yet not the less did Mary show her love 
 
 Or Eric his, for now they seemed to glow 
 
 With a mesmeric influence, which told. 
 
 Each unto each, the thoughts, that filled the soul 
 
 Of love toward the other, unexpressed. 
 
 Pa£e 30.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Then Eric, Mary told, how he had sinned ; 
 Aroha told how Eric was beloved ; 
 A moment Mary felt a passing pang 
 Of wifely anger, and of jealousy ; 
 She took Aroha's dusky hand, and spal-;e : 
 "You loved and served him, that suffices me, 
 For sex and passion we have left behind ; 
 And now, your love, and mine, for Eric will 
 Between us prove a bond of sympathy. " 
 No more she said, nor uttered one reproach. 
 But urged that thence they speedily should go, 
 And swiftly led the way towards the cave 
 By which she entered dull Reinga's^^ vale, 
 Led from a brighter sphere by her strong love. 
 But as they neared the entrance where there stood 
 The watchful giants with their ready arms, 
 Mary perceived that Eric's weighted soul 
 Would scarcely 'scape their sweeping fatal blows : 
 So seizing firmly Eric's hand, she bids 
 Aroha take the other ; then they speed 
 Towards the cave, and 'tween the giants dart ; 
 But Eric as they pass, catches the stroke 
 Well nigh expended in its force, with which 
 The giant Lust, had Eric striven to slay. 
 Thus by the love of those two women's souls 
 ^^^lich both are clear from stain of greed or lust. 
 His weighted soul is hurried to the cave, 
 Well nigh uninjured by the guardian's blow. 
 
 / ag^e -ix.
 
 ERIC IREDALE. 
 
 At first the cave was dark, and through the gloom 
 
 They slowly passed, but soon they gained the light 
 
 Which as through ice translucent streamed blue. 
 
 Anon, they gained the exit from the cave, 
 
 Or passage subterranean, through whose vault 
 
 From the dull twilight of Reinga's^'' vale 
 
 They quickly sped into new light and life. 
 
 If seemed as though they still were on the earth, 
 
 And as although they came from out the side 
 
 Of Erebus, that mountain dread and strange, 
 
 Which in the Southern ice-bound land of snow. 
 
 Belches forth fire, and from whose snowy top 
 
 There rises wreathing smoke and ruddy glow. 
 
 Aloft this mountain's heat extends a space 
 
 Then dropping downwards, round the South pole makes 
 
 A land of summer and an open sea : 
 
 Hence at the exit of the mystic cave 
 
 Meet and embrace winter and summer fair, 
 
 As on the Western slopes of Zealand's isle 
 
 Where rise the mighty mountain monuments 
 
 Of Tasman, and of Cook,^' brave men of old, 
 
 W^ho wrested from the realms of the unknown 
 
 Those bounteous Austral lands where now we dwell ; 
 
 Gained not by war, with ruthless bloody sword, 
 
 But by their labour great and patient skill. 
 
 From out the frozen cave a river ran, 
 While round the icy exit grew great ferns 
 
 Page 32.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 With wide umbrageous crowns ; and many trees 
 Of varied leafage and as varied green, 
 Contrasting with the glacier's paler hue. 
 The river's course was short until it fell 
 And lost its waters in a quiet lake, 
 Upon whose grassy banks, with lawn-like slope 
 Ascending gently from the water's marge. 
 Grows many a stately and wide spreading tree : 
 While all the emerald turf is studded o'er 
 With flowers of divers hues, from parted climes, 
 And various seasons, all at once in bloom. 
 Beneath the trees there grew luxuriant shrubs 
 With blossoms of the fairest hues bedecked, 
 And fruits of choicest form and luscious taste ; 
 While all the balmy air, with fragrance filled, 
 And with the joyous song of tuneful birds, 
 Seemed also full of light, as though the moon 
 Her silvern rays had mingled with the glow 
 Of metals molten in the mountain's heart. 
 
 And chief amid the lovely flowers which bloomed 
 In this fair paradise, surpassing all 
 In beauty and in perfume, roses were. 
 Both red and white, like those Cecilia wore 
 When in her virgin bridal bower, she was, 
 E'en by an Angel sent from Heaven, crowned 
 With emblems of her chastity and love. 
 
 Page 33.
 
 ERIC I RED ALE. 
 
 On thornless sprays, here hung these perfect blooms ; 
 
 No thistle poniard lurked 'mid flowery grass ; 
 
 No upas shade, no fair, yet noisome fruit, 
 
 Invited slumber, or beguiled the eye. 
 
 No wily serpent with its poisoned tooth. 
 
 No fierce-fangcd, steallhy-footed beast of prey 
 
 Crouched in the thickets of this mystic land. 
 
 Not here was felt the curse which Adam's fall 
 
 Brought on the old, yet juvenescent world ; 
 
 And this fair paradise an Eden was. 
 
 Free from perplexing pain and 'wildering sin. 
 
 No saint oppressed cried here, " Oh, Lord, how long ! " 
 
 No children suffered for their father's sin ; 
 
 Nor here was aught of misery or woe ; 
 
 For all who reached this wide and wondrous land 
 
 With fairy groves, and seas, and blissful isles, 
 
 The melancholy, and commingled mirth, 
 
 Which make the sum of human life, had known ; 
 
 And by the bitter in life's cup had learned 
 
 The sweets of love and sympathy to know. 
 
 Or else by suffering had been purified. 
 
 Were life all sweetness, would we taste the sweet ; 
 
 Were life all pleasure, would we know our joy ; 
 
 Or would satiety upon us grow, /v ' / 
 
 And from our very blessings breed our Cain? y\ *}0'^^^>^^ 
 
 God knows ! And yet perchance our lives might be 
 
 Like ocean's wind flowers ^® on some wave-washed rock, 
 
 Page ^4.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 CO I 
 
 "Which for a time beneath the risen tide 
 Their lovely living petals wider expand, 
 And from the teeming waters glean their food ; 
 Until the waves, receding from the shore, 
 Leave them to sleep awhile with fast closed eyes. 
 Would such existence be to be desired, 
 Or would we change it for our present life, 
 With all its many woes and too sparse joys ? 
 
 Not such the life that here those spirits led, 
 
 Though naught but pleasant things are spread around ; 
 
 For all his imperfections each one knew, 
 
 And looked upon the life which late he led, 
 
 With naught of prejudice or self-conceit 
 
 And with his eyes undimmed by selfishness 
 
 He saw himself as others looked on him. 
 
 And with the same heart-searching look he saw 
 
 The characters of all his comrade ghosts. 
 
 But not well pleased that now he knew 
 
 Their secret sins, and petty weaknesses. 
 
 The only thoughts evoked are pitying love 
 
 And a desire to reach, and others aid 
 
 To gain the goal, perfection, godlike love. 
 
 Not equally to all those powers are given. 
 
 For those who loved on earth have most of God 
 
 Within their natures, and to these is given 
 
 The new sense, sympathy, in measure large, 
 
 Page 35-
 
 ERIC I RED ALE. 
 
 So that they know the inmost passing thoughts 
 Which die unuttered by their fellow-ghosts. 
 
 The other spirits also have this sense 
 
 In varying degree ; the least prevents 
 
 Misunderstandings, such as rise on earth 
 
 From words mistaken, or from acts misjudged : 
 
 And gradually the poorer spirits gain 
 
 A larger power of sympathetic love ; 
 
 For by the influence of the love of God, 
 
 And sympathy of their most godlike friends. 
 
 They grow more perfect, as some full-formed peach 
 
 Nestling 'mid leaves upon its parent bough. 
 
 Transmutes from sunbeams and from dropping rain 
 
 Its juicy sweetness and its ruddy hue 
 
 Until perfection, mellow ripe, is gained. 
 
 Here in this strange and mystic land they dwell 
 
 Mary and Eric, and Aroha too, 
 
 All joined by sympathy and sweetest love, 
 
 And truly happy ; for here never comes 
 
 Earth's weary cares, nor struggle to provide 
 
 For those dependent on our anxious toil, 
 
 Nor any lust of gain ; but sweet content 
 
 With all that them surrounds, which all souls share. 
 
 Although the sense of taste remains, the need 
 
 For sustenance is wholly gone ; 
 
 Gone too are all disturbances which spring 
 
 Page 36.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 From passion, which too oft are found on earth. 
 
 The only trace of woe which enters here, 
 
 The gladden sadness for a sin forgiven ^v/'^-^' 
 
 Is felt by all, but 'tis a pleasant pain. '^ 
 
 Here afterwards by other ways there come 
 
 The souls of Alice and of Walter Glenn, 
 
 And e'en of Eric's babe he never saw. 
 
 With many another they on earth had knowm. 
 
 For to this strange fair land are other ways 
 
 Than by the cavern from Reigna's ^^ vale. 
 
 Gehenna, Limbus, Hades, all have roads 
 
 By which departed souls can reach these fields. 
 
 Fair fields Elysian, with their summer seas 
 
 And blissful isles, with peaceful balmy groves. 
 
 How can a fettered soul e'en picture these 
 
 Where congregate and dwell departed souls 
 
 Until they take their flight to higher spheres. 
 
 Their only work, the effort to attain 
 
 A higher grade of love, and others aid 
 
 To gain a fuller love than now they know. 
 
 And helped by some affinity of soul, 
 
 Or tender memories of their life on earth. 
 
 Their efforts chiefly are bestowed on those 
 
 Who were their kindred or their friends on earth. 
 
 Of all the little company we knew, 
 
 The one who had the most to learn of love 
 
 Was Walter Glenn, who e'en from Eric's babe 
 
 Page 37.
 
 ERIC I RED ALE. 
 
 Would humbly learn the way to higher love : 
 He would perchance be longest in that land. 
 
 No doubt as each perfection full attained. 
 
 They wafted were to higher Heavens, where dwells 
 
 The unknown, Godly, everlasting Power, 
 
 Incomprehensible to us poor men ; 
 
 Who is the Power of Good that fills all space 
 
 And every world, with virtue marvellous, 
 
 Unutterable ; whom we cannot know, 
 
 Nor our imagination e'en disclose. 
 
 Perchance, hereafter, we shall know our God, 
 
 And having grown to unalloyed Love, 
 
 Our redeemed nature will return to Him, 
 
 And of His loving being form a part. 
 
 And yet preserve our conscious entity. 
 
 It is an awful and transcendent thought 
 
 That then, perchance, the thoughts of Deity 
 
 We'll know ; and through our raptured souls will thrill 
 
 Every volition of Almighty God, 
 
 Like some strange pleasant throb electrical. 
 
 Beyond our comprehension this must be, 
 Beyond the power of fancy and of words ; 
 Nor even can we weakly paint a type, 
 Unless we think how all the stars would feel, 
 If they were sentient, when the risen sun 
 Absorbs their puny rays, and all their light 
 
 Pasc 33.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Is lost, in his great warm and glorious beams. 
 Then, how the substance all may seem the same. 
 Though greatly different, we may surely know 
 By learning how 'mid ocean's trackless waste 
 The waters of some rivers may be found 
 Far out at sea, of which they form a part. 
 And yet retain the freshness of the stream. 
 So may it be when all the breath He breathed 
 In Eden's bowers returns again to God. 
 
 But why should we with futile thought e'en try 
 To guess at that which we can never know ? 
 \Vhat God may be, and what we may become, 
 We cannot learn, and for His purpose wise 
 He fixed has, that men may never know : 
 But of His nature some small glimpse we have. 
 For God is Love, and pure Love men may know . 
 
 Love is God-like^ God is Love, 
 Love is all we knoiv of Him ; 
 Here with selfishness alloyed 
 Rays of God-like love are dim. 
 
 Btit one day we'll surely cast 
 All of earth and self behind, 
 See our Fathei-'s hidden face 
 And true bliss, and pure love find. 
 
 Page 39-
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 17 
 
 T ANDWARD the chilly soulhein night winds creep, 
 -*— ' The waves reluctant from the shore retire. 
 Leaving the sodden sands all bare and bleak, 
 
 Swept by the keen-toothed winds which never tire. 
 The sharp-horned moon by clouds is covered o'er, 
 
 Which low anil low'ring lie along the land, 
 And aye the sullen surf's unceasing roar 
 
 Is heard along the dreary stretch of sand. 
 
 WHiat seeks Te Kura on a night so dark ? 
 
 Forth from the silent pah^ why does she steal? 
 'I'he pathway to the beach she scarce can mark. 
 
 She slow and cautious must her footsteps feel. 
 At length she gains the yielding sand, which shows 
 
 Distinct the impress of her naked feet ; 
 r.ut ere the morning can those prints disclose, 
 
 The friendly tide will wash them out complete. 
 Why should Te Kura thank the friendly tide, 
 
 That thus her footprints are removed from sight ? 
 Are there no other footprints hers beside, 
 
 Footprints still larger, with a longer stride ? 
 
 'Tis not to gather pipis'^ that she goes 
 Alone at night thus to the dismal strand ; 
 
 Page 40.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Nor yet to watch until the ocean throws 
 
 The struggling silver frost fish^^ on the land. 
 
 Down from Waihola's lake there's one who comes 
 And nightly meets Te Kara by the sea ; 
 
 And low and gently to herself she hums : 
 " My love Koroki^^ surely waits for me." 
 
 With such a charm as love to guide her way, 
 
 Atua or Taipo-" cannot work her harm ; 
 Yet tim'rously she speeds without delay 
 
 To the safe shelter of her lover's arm, 
 Which soon Te Kura's lissom waist enfolds, 
 
 While meet their loving lips in lingering kiss. 
 With scarce a word he close his darling holds ; 
 
 Both feel the thrill of love's unspoken bliss. 
 
 " Te Kura, dear," at length Koroki said, 
 
 " I fear this night will be the last we'll meet 
 For long ; but, dearest, be not so dismay'd ; 
 
 Before dread Tahu we must still retreat. 
 Tahu the vengeful's so sworn my sire to slay ; 
 
 And as the remnant of our tribe is weak, 
 We could not hold our pah ^ a single day, 
 
 Should the victorious Tahu still us seek. 
 But, darling Kura, think not that we'll go 
 
 To such a distance further down the coast 
 That our new refuge even you'll not know, 
 
 And we to one another shall be lost. 
 
 Page 41.
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 
 
 No, Kura ; dearest Kura ; No ! though I 
 
 Cannot at night thus meet you on the beach, 
 Yet hither sometimes I shall come and try 
 
 To gain an hour or two of loving speech. 
 Oh ! that your father would my suit allow, 
 
 Then thus in secret we'd no longer meet. 
 Even to be his slave I'd gladly bow, 
 
 For servitude with you, love, would be sweet." 
 
 *' No, no, Koroki," quick replied the girl, 
 
 " How could I ever wed my father's slave ? 
 E'en could I, I know well no slavish churl 
 
 Would please my father, were he e'er so brave. 
 My father, thinking that I looked on you 
 
 With eyes well pleased, when first your father came. 
 With flag of truce, held high from his canoe. 
 
 To 'stablish peace, with you in his train ; 
 My father thinking you, as I assume, 
 
 Had caught my eye, said quick but not unkind : 
 'The harsh-voiced cuckoo"^ bears a handsome plume. 
 
 But yet, Te Kura, you will never find 
 Him mated with the daring sparrow-hawk ; 
 
 For when the cold south wind begins to blow, 
 The cuckoo disappears.' Thus did he talk. 
 
 ' In time of danger, so do strangers go.' " 
 
 " Aye, aye, Te Kura, but right well you know, 
 That no cuckoo am I summer to seek. 
 
 Page 42.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Misfortune and fierce Tahu brought us low ; 
 
 I feel that now my fortune you must keep. 
 I know that you could never wed a slave, 
 
 But could you do so, then a slave I'd be. 
 Freedom is sweet, especially to the brave. 
 
 But, darling, sweeter is my love for thee. 
 The only servitude we'll ever know, 
 
 Shall be the fetters soft of mutual love ; 
 And though from you I now must sadly go. 
 
 By sure return I'll like the cuckoo prove, 
 When once, Te Kura, we have gained a place 
 
 Where sure in safety we once more may dwell ; 
 And thither gathered all our scattered race, 
 
 And Tahu's fierce attacks we could repel. 
 Then, dear Te Kura, you will fly with me, 
 
 And be to me my own, my dear loved wife ; 
 For if your father should not then agree, 
 
 He dare not seek to take you back with strife. 
 When once my lonely whare ^ you have cheered. 
 
 Te Kura, darling ! Oh ! that happy time 
 Will certain come ; there's nothing to be feared 
 
 That can prevent its coming, dearest, mine." 
 
 But yet Te Kura, with her tearful eyes : 
 •' Koroki, dearest, I am filled with dread, 
 
 Lest I should never have the glad surprise 
 Of your returning, seeking me to wed. 
 
 Page 43-
 
 HAKr TE KURA. 
 
 Oh ! my Koroki, I am very sad ; 
 
 Perchance fierce Tahu may my lover slay : 
 I'll fly with you at once, and shall be glad 
 
 To share the dangers of your vvand'ring w^ay." 
 
 " My own Te Kura, would that it could be ; 
 
 But then two foes we'd have instead of one. 
 Your father then would aid the foe we flee, 
 
 He would not own a fugitive as son. 
 Nay, dearest Kura, yet a little while 
 
 Unwedded, parted, we must still remain. 
 If our weak band fought Tahu, he'd but smile, 
 
 To think how soon he'd feast upon the slain. 
 But when our tribe and friends are gathered in, 
 
 As shortly will be, if our scouts speak true. 
 Then Tahu we could fight, and hope to win ; 
 
 And then, my darling, I shall win you too." 
 
 The colder air foretells the coming dawn. 
 
 And warns the lovers it is time to part ; 
 With frequent kisses, between sighs long drawn, 
 
 lie, loving, tries to soothe her anxious heart. 
 Long does the parting last, and yet it seems 
 
 To those fond lovers but a moment's space ; 
 They linger till the rising sun's first beams 
 
 Disclose to him the sadness in her face. 
 He caught Te Kura in his loving arms. 
 
 He held her close in amorous embrace. 
 
 Page 44.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 He kissed her quickly, sudden broke love's charms, 
 Then fleet away he sped with rapid pace. 
 
 II. 
 
 Full bright the sunbeams gild the waves that play 
 
 Upon the surface of Waihola's lake. 
 The raupo brown heads in the breezes sway. 
 
 The green and sedge-like leaves a rustUng make. 
 The wary wild-duck to each other cry, 
 
 Then rising startled, seek some safer place. 
 For they have heard what tells them man is nigh. 
 
 The paddling of canoes, that come apace 
 From out the lake, to where the Taieri tends 
 
 Towards the mountain chain that guards the sea, 
 And seeks the narrow gorge through which it wends 
 
 Its sullen course, when by the tide left free. 
 Into the gorge, with the receding tide. 
 
 The turgid Taieri bears but three canoes, 
 Wherein Koroki, and his friends beside, 
 
 Will sail the sea till they a refuge choose. 
 
 The grassy hill-sides have a yellow glow, 
 
 The flax blades glitter in the morning sun, 
 The blue pukaki,^ startled, rises slow, 
 
 With trailing legs, and seeks mankind to shun. 
 Adown the Taieri gorge Koroki sails, 
 
 Helped by the tide, the paddler's task is light ; 
 
 Page 45.
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 
 
 Passing on either hand seduded vales, 
 
 A dark and wooded point soon meets the sight, 
 
 The river's further course it seems to bar, 
 The trees seem clinging to its rocky slopes. 
 
 And from their leafy shades are heard afar 
 
 The chiming bell-bird's -■* clear and mellow notes. 
 
 '& 
 
 From 'mong the green-leaved trees the grey bare rocks 
 
 Rise upwards from the dark and flowing tide 
 Which, sweeping steady on, their efl'ort mocks 
 
 To stem the course they can but thrust aside ; 
 For round the point with sharp and sudden turn 
 
 The river swiftly bends its winding way, 
 Bearing the barks upon its waves, which spurn 
 
 All that attempts their seaward course to stay. 
 
 Below the point Koroki smoothly rides 
 
 In his canoe, as though in quiet lake, 
 For circled close by hills the river glides. 
 
 And the successive reaches lakelets make. 
 Each circling hill upon its bosom bears 
 
 A cov'ring of the woodland's brightest green ; 
 Save where some rugged rock full sombre stares, 
 
 And gloomy looks upon the lovely scene. 
 The hills are pierced by many a wooded glen 
 
 Where stately pines rise o'er each lowly tree. 
 While from a shady nook just now and then. 
 
 The tree-fern peeps, as though the light to see. 
 
 Page 46.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The tuneful tui^ loudly whistles forth 
 
 His merry jocund song, which hearty rings 
 Across the stream with sound of gladsome mirth, 
 
 And calls his comrades, who with noisy wings 
 Fly fearless overhead the paddling men ; 
 
 But far more tuneful to Koroki's ear 
 Is the low warbling of the native wren,^ 
 
 Which sadly sings its plaintive notes and clear ; 
 For sad and mournful are the thoughts that fill 
 
 Koroki's manly heart as on he glides 
 Upon the river's breast, which bears him still 
 
 Nigher his loved one's home, but yet derides, 
 By swiftly sweeping past his stout canoe 
 
 On to the restless billows of the deep. 
 Fate and the river from his lover true, 
 
 Shall sever him awhile ; when will they meet ? 
 
 He wonders will the loved Te Kura be 
 
 Her lover's passing watching 'mong her tribe, 
 
 Or lest her tell-tale tears her friends might see, 
 In darkened whare - till he's past she'll bide. 
 
 Not so Te Kura, though she could not bear 
 To watch her lover 'mid the heedless throng, 
 
 Resolved to see Koroki, she would dare 
 To wave a farewell as he speeds along. 
 
 "With but one maiden slave the pah ^ she leaves 
 At early dawn, and from the river strays, 
 
 Page 47.
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 
 
 She gains the uplands where the morning breeze 
 
 Fresh from the ocean 'mid the long grass plays. 
 Keeping along the hill-tops as she goes, 
 
 Te Kura wanders up the river's course, 
 Until she comes to where Te Kura knows 
 
 The river's current sets with steady force. 
 Then clambering down the narrow stony ridge, 
 
 She gains the furthest limit of the crag, 
 WTiere grows a stunted tree upon the edge ; 
 
 Her maiden, timid, on the hill must lag. 
 Close 'neath the rock whereon Te Kura rests, 
 
 The friendly current will her lover bear, 
 For there the river with the cliff contests, 
 
 Te Kura waits her lover's coming there. 
 
 Down from Waihola's lake with measured stroke 
 
 Te Kura hears the distant paddles beat, 
 Her rising sobs she bravely tries to choke, 
 
 And ponders how Koroki she shall greet. 
 Soon round a turning in the river's bed 
 
 The three canoes sweep swiftly into sight, 
 "There's my Koroki's manly form," she said. 
 
 Then shrill and loudly calls with all her might, 
 " Haere ra,^ Koroki," and the sound 
 
 Upon the waters borne unto his ear, 
 Makes him to start and quickly look around ; 
 
 The voice proclaims that his Te Kura's near. 
 
 Page 48.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 " Haera ra,^ Koroki," comes once more, 
 
 More loudly now he hears the well-loved voice, 
 And looking upwards to the rocky shore, 
 
 Te Kura's shapely form his eyes rejoice. 
 Against the azure sky he sees her stand, 
 
 Clear and distinct upon the craggy peak ; 
 And ever and anon she waves her hand, 
 
 Then listens as to hear her lover speak. 
 " Haki Te Kura, hei Kona,"^ he cries, 
 
 But there's a tremor in his manly voice. 
 Te Kura hears it, and again she tries 
 
 To say farewell to him who is her choice. 
 
 Then as Koroki passes 'neath the cliff, 
 
 Swift borne upon the tide's fast ebbing waves, 
 Te Kura, longing to be in his skiff — 
 
 To join her lover, that is all she craves — 
 With resolution strong, and impulse quick. 
 
 Full madly from the rock nigh headlong leaps 
 Towards her lover. Ah ! his heart grows sick, 
 
 But his canoe relentless onwards sweeps. 
 Striking its carven prow Te Kura falls, 
 
 Before a hand to save her can be raised. 
 " Oh ! my beloved ! " loud Koroki cries, 
 
 Whereat his comrades brave are all amazed. 
 Beneath the swirling waters she has gone : 
 
 Their changeful circles show a trace of blood ; 
 
 Page 49-
 
 HAKl TE KURA. 
 
 As round the rocky point they're hurried on, 
 Awhile to linger on the eddying flood. 
 
 But ere his light canoe the eddy gains, 
 Koroki in the turbid torrent springs. 
 
 To save his loved one, or to end his pains 
 
 He recks not what result his action brings, 
 The dark and rushing waters o'er his head 
 
 Rise seething while the current sweeps him down, 
 And soon to seek the surface he is led 
 
 Instinctive, though he willingly would drown. 
 Swimming, he strives to stem the waters' force 
 
 For though he knows Te Kura must be dead, 
 He fain would rescue from the deep her corse. 
 
 His comrades quick to where he swims have sped, 
 And raised him struggling to his own canoe, 
 
 His strivings with the stream have stol'n his strength, 
 " The stranger girl is drowned," they tell him true ; 
 
 Watching the water still, he lay alength ; 
 But on the surface never more appears 
 
 Te Kura's form to her sad lover's gaze. 
 Although he watches keen, through silent tears ; 
 
 " Oh ! here remain," he constant sadly prays. 
 
 'We dare not so," his comrades make reply, 
 " Lest Kura's father should for vengeance come." 
 
 Pa^e sa
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 Already on the hill they could descry 
 
 The tim'rous maiden quickly hieing home. 
 So to the sea more eagerly they speed ; 
 
 To pass the pah^ long ere the news they learn 
 They paddle steady on ; nor is there need 
 
 To stay to save the girl for whom they yearn. 
 
 Oh ! wond'rous woman's heart, what fervent love, 
 
 E'en in a savage bosom may abound. 
 Can we who rise the savages above 
 
 Say warmer, truer love can now be found. 
 
 The maiden slave at nighfall reached her home, 
 
 And trembled much to tell her piteous tale ; 
 And when her tidings sad, to all were known, 
 
 There rose on high a loud, prolonged wail. 
 The mothers and the maidens of the clan 
 
 The lost Te Kura mourned with many tears. 
 Her sire Tu Wiri, a revengeful man, 
 
 Swore he'd have utu,^^ if for many years 
 He constant must pursue Koroki's band. 
 
 He sent his cautious scouts to mark their course. 
 And bade them note the place where they should land. 
 
 That he might follow with an armed force. 
 
 Page SI
 
 HAKI TE KURA. 
 
 III. 
 
 Far down the coast upon a distant isle 
 
 Heart broke Koroki mourns his late lost love ; 
 His father from his grief would him beguile, 
 
 But all his arts Koroki cannot move, 
 Yet in the daily business of the camp, 
 
 He willing lends to all his helping aid, 
 But still his mournful looks their spirits damp, 
 
 Though of pursuit they are not now afraid ; 
 For they are far from where Tu Wiri lives, 
 
 And he no effort at pursuit has made, 
 E'en fear of Tahu, now no caution gives 
 
 To all their ways, as when they nigher stayed. 
 Unamied they sail upon the placid sea, 
 
 To capture lish, which they require for food ; 
 'Tis moons since from Waihola they did flee. 
 
 But still Koroki o'er his loss will brood. 
 
 No thought of danger have they as they ply. 
 
 And close attentive watch the finny deep, 
 Yet though they're heedless, danger's lurking nigh 
 
 Although for coming for no watch they keep, 
 Tu Wiri's men upon their victims steal. 
 
 From out a peaceful beauteous bay they come. 
 Close by the shore, their presence to conceal ; 
 
 They're now between the fishers and their home. 
 Then like a hawk that swoops upon its prey, 
 
 Straight to the fishing craft they paddle out, 
 
 Page 52.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The fishers, startled, strive to flee away : 
 As to their fate there cannot long be doubt. 
 
 By numbers overpowered, and all unarmed, 
 
 No chance have they against their foes to fight, 
 Yet though the bravest well may be alarmed. 
 
 The brave Koroki, quick, with all his might 
 His paddle upward swings and aims a blow 
 
 Right at Tu Wiri's head ; he wards it well, 
 And with his polished mere ^^ smites full low 
 
 Koroki with the stroke. He backward fell 
 Into his skiff, and there he lay as dead. 
 
 His fellow-fishers all are quickly slain, 
 And then towards the shore the victors sped, 
 
 To slaughter all who on the isle remain. 
 
 Koroki 'mong the corpses of his friends 
 
 Nigh senseless lies, for though the ocean's breath 
 Plays gently o'er his face, and new strength lends. 
 
 And wakes his senses, yet he's still as death. 
 He knows not where he is, nor what has happ'ed, 
 
 And fancies that his loved Te Kura's near. 
 And as the skiff is by the wavelets lapped, 
 
 Like Kura's voice, it sounds upon his ear. 
 "Te Kura dearest, yes, at length I've come, 
 
 To claim a loving maiden as my wife," 
 He lowly murmurs, then for ever dumb. 
 
 With thoughts of Kura slowly ebbs his life. 
 
 Page 53.
 
 HI NEMO A. 
 
 HINEMOA. 31 
 THE MAID OF ROTORUA. ^^ 
 
 MAIDEN of a thousand charms, 
 Hinemoa ! 
 Hasten to your lover's arms, 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 What although the lake be wide? 
 
 Hinemoa ! 
 You may reach your lover's side, 
 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 Do not longer lonely pine, 
 
 Hinemoa ! 
 Loving arms shall you entwine, 
 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 Come to where is now your heart, 
 
 Hinemoa ! 
 We cannot longer live apart, 
 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 You can cross the stormy wave, 
 
 Hinemoa ! 
 Will you not all danger brave ? 
 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 Pagt 54.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Now's the hour you must decide, 
 
 Hinemoa ? 
 Tane will protect his bride, 
 
 Hinemoa, Hinemoa ! 
 
 Across the waters of the lake. 
 
 The gentle breeze wafts Tane's notes, 
 
 And they to Hinemoa spake 
 
 As clear as if from living throats: 
 
 Articulate, the message came : 
 
 For Tane's flute, clear-toned and high. 
 Seemed ever to repeat her name, 
 
 When still eve brought the distant nigh : 
 With Tiki's aid the sound to swell. 
 
 Which further than love song could fly. 
 And aye fond Tane's love could tell. 
 
 So Tane and his trusty friend 
 
 Wake music's most melodious voice, 
 
 Tell Hinemoa that they send 
 
 Love's message that she may rejoice. 
 
 Oh ! mighty music, great thy charm. 
 Thou speech of angels to their Lord, 
 
 Thou nervest with might the warrior's arm, 
 Thou whisperest a loving word. 
 
 I 
 
 P^Se 55-
 
 HI NEMO A. 
 
 Darkness upon the lake has dropped, 
 
 The music keeps awake the night ; 
 Upon the shore the maiden stopped, 
 
 And waited for the moon's pale light. 
 When its cold beams illume the shore, 
 
 She vainly seeks a swift canoe, 
 But cannot without aid restore. 
 
 From whence her friends suspicious drew, 
 A vessel to its wat'ry home ; 
 
 And now on Rotorua's tide 
 Floats no canoe to skim the foam 
 
 And bear her to her lover's side. 
 
 Still, still across the wat'ry way 
 Come notes of music on the night, 
 
 "Which aye to Hinemoa say, 
 
 "Come my beloved, my delight." 
 
 " Tane, my Tane," loud she calls ; 
 
 The echo but returns her voice ; 
 Still on her ear the music falls. 
 
 And tells her she is Tane's choice. 
 Full oft by night the friends have played ; 
 
 The maiden knows their meaning well : 
 And now with bosom half afraid. 
 
 She yields to love's and music's spell. 
 She casts her rich wrought mat aside, 
 
 And plunges in the waters dark, 
 
 Page 56.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCTRS. 
 
 Heedless although the lake is wide, 
 
 She'll cross although she has no bark ! 
 With Tane's piping for her guide, 
 
 She bravely breasts each rising wave. 
 Oh ! can she cross the waters wide ? 
 
 Was ever maiden known so brave ? 
 She onward swims until her strength 
 
 From battling with the wave succumbs, 
 Then on the tide she rests at length, 
 
 The waters chill her heart benumbs. 
 But as she on the surface floats, 
 
 The night winds fresh'ning from the shore, 
 Bear to her ear loved Tane's notes ; 
 
 Still, still through them his soul's tholights pour. 
 
 Oh ! my beloved, do not faint. 
 
 Courage, my loved one come to me. 
 If your friends offered no restraint 
 
 I should quickly cross to thee. 
 
 ^^ 
 But if your Tane sought your isle, ( C .. ; ; \, ; y 
 
 He would surely find a bier, 
 Oh ! could he here his love beguile. 
 
 She would dwell in safety here. 
 
 Oh ! come then, loved one, come to me ; 
 Come and be my own dear wife ; 
 
 Page 57.
 
 HI NEMO A. 
 
 If from my tribe I passed to thee, 
 I should quickly lose my life. 
 
 Thus she interprets Tane's strain, 
 
 Her half stilled heart now quickly beats. 
 Her nigh numbed limbs new vigour gain, 
 
 " Help, Tane ! Tane ! " she repeats. 
 But Tane cannot hear her cry. 
 
 For she is still far from the shore ; 
 She turns, and yet again will try 
 
 To gain the goal she sought before. 
 
 Oh ! Hinemoa, hard's the task 
 
 That you essay beyond the strength 
 Of man ; then who could woman ask 
 
 The feat to try ; to swim the length 
 That lies between the shore and you, 
 
 But love lends its all-powerful aid. 
 As to Leander, lover true. 
 
 Who rivalled you, O bravest maid ! 
 
 The girl exhausted gains the strand. 
 
 Near where a warm spring wells from earth ; 
 
 She scarce can drag herself to land : 
 Now fear first in her mind has birth. 
 
 How can she thus to Tane go ? 
 The moon reveals her unclothed form : 
 
 Page s8.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Where Tane dwells, she does not know ; 
 
 She seeks the covering water warm. 
 Close by the lake the warm pools lie, 
 
 There, there her tired cold limbs she'll hide 
 And hope that ere the sun be high 
 
 Some maid may seek the water's side. 
 
 Wakeful, within his whare^ warm, 
 
 Full loudly Tane calls his slave, 
 " Go, fetch a draught, 'twill act as charm, 
 
 From Rotorua's cooling wave. 
 'Twill bring soft sleep unto mine eyes. 
 
 With sweetest slumber soothe my brain, 
 That wakeful, pictures love's fair prize, 
 
 The girl beloved, I cannot gain." 
 
 How very oft, poor sightless man, 
 You long for what you cannot win ; 
 
 Frustrate you are by Fate's fell ban ; 
 And yet it lies your grasp within. 
 
 The slave the water hastes to draw, 
 
 And as he stoops upon the brink, 
 Mode of escape fair Hine saw, 
 
 So gruffly call, " Give me to drink." 
 He starts, the moon cloud hidden shows 
 
 A head rise from the steaming bath, 
 He trembles, for he little knows 
 
 'Tis not a man his cup would quaff ; 
 
 Page 59-
 
 HI NEMO A. 
 
 The dripping gourd he hands the maid, 
 Who drinks its cr}'stal contents cool, 
 
 Then though the slave be all dismayed, 
 The cup breaks by the rocky pool. 
 
 To his lord Tane, thirsting still, 
 
 The empty-handed slave returns, 
 And tells he cannot do his will ; 
 
 Fierce rage in Tane's bosom burns, 
 Lakeward he hies to find the churl. 
 
 " Where art thou boaster hiding now ? " 
 He calls, and answered by a girl. 
 
 Comes, "Tane," spoken sweet and low. 
 
 Like the full moon rising stately, 
 
 From out the ocean's placid breast, 
 From the pool wherein she lately 
 
 Had laid her tired, numbed limbs to rest, 
 Did Hinemoa slowly rise. 
 
 To her loved Tane's wondering gaze ; 
 Though often longed for, in surprise 
 
 He stares a moment with amaze. 
 The moonlight shows her well-loved face, 
 
 Reveals him too, her matchless form. 
 Her virgin twin breasts' swelling grace. 
 
 Her shapely limbs, and every charm. 
 And as she modest crouches down. 
 
 Beside her lover on the strand. 
 
 Page 60.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 His mat around her he has thrown, 
 
 And raised her, with a loving hand. 
 Her beauty dazzled like the sun, 
 
 Her modest mifen like south wind chilled ; 
 One glance, his pass'nate pulses run : 
 
 A second, nigh their beating stilled. 
 A moment's silence, ere he spoke, 
 
 " Ah, Hinemoa, my own love ! " 
 And as his voice the stillness broke 
 
 He felt the chilly spell remove. 
 He caught the timid Hine's hand. 
 
 And quick embraced her where she stood. 
 Though, 'neath the moon's cold beams they stand, 
 
 Hot flow the courses of his blood. 
 Her slender waist his arm entwines, 
 
 He her reluctant upward leads 
 To his lone home, and he combines 
 
 Faint force, soft words, till he succeeds. 
 
 They gain the whare's ^ safe retreat. 
 
 And in its friendly darkness hide. 
 Ne'er shall the shameless moon repeat 
 
 How loving Tane claimed his bride. 
 
 Oh S the rich joy of new-found love ! 
 
 Oh ! friendly darkness aiding joy ! 
 Oh, that such night would endless prove ! 
 
 Why brazen day such bliss destroy ? 
 
 Page 6i .
 
 LAMENT FOR TE HEU HEU. 
 
 His tribe, next day, knew Tane wed 
 
 To Ilinemoa, matchless maid : 
 To her tribe too, the news has sped. 
 
 From vengeful war their hand is stayed 
 By the thought of her devotion, 
 
 Which gave her strength to cross the lake. 
 Tribes remotest by the ocean, 
 
 Of Rotorua's maiden spake. 
 
 LAMENT FOR TE HEU HEU. 
 
 SEE the infant morning wakes, 
 O'er the dark Tauhara's height ; 
 Where the dawn the darkness breaks 
 Floats a lightsome fleecy cloud. 
 Does that cloudlet bring to me. 
 From the realms of darkest night, 
 The friend on earth I loved to see, 
 For whose return I cry aloud ? 
 
 Does that cloudlet robe his form ? 
 The manly form to me so dear. 
 With the brightness of the morn 
 Will he again return to earth ? 
 Alas ! he never will return, 
 His lonely friend's sad eyes to cheer, 
 
 Page 6a.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 All lonely here I sadly mourn : 
 
 When he passed, then my grief had birth. 
 
 Yes, yes the mighty one has gone. 
 The mighty chief, the spreading tree : 
 Ah ! why was I left here alone 
 Of my people's shade bereft ? 
 Who is the strange god caused thy death ? 
 That horrid death — Oh ! fell decree — 
 That cruel crushed from thee life's breath, 
 Of all thy hapu,^'^ but one left ! 
 
 Sleep on, O chieftain, take thy rest, 
 Within thy dark and dank abode ; 
 If I were with thee I w^ere blest. 
 Where with our friends thou liest low. 
 Grasp with thy hand thy weapon rare, 
 Time cannot greenstone hard corrode, 
 Thy fathers, brave beyond compare, 
 Taught foes its keenest blows to know. 
 
 Show once again thy tatoo'd face. 
 
 Thy noble, bold, athletic frame ; 
 
 Oh ! could I see thy moko's ^ grace 
 
 And all the chiselled lines of blue. 
 
 The stars in heaven but faintly shine : 
 
 Thine own bright star has quenched its flame. 
 
 I 
 
 Pare 63. 
 
 I
 
 LAMENT FOR TE HEU HEU. 
 
 Because of thy dread fate malign : 
 Like thee 'tis parted from our view. 
 
 Piercing still the morning air, 
 
 Rears Tongariro's mighty head, 
 
 Thy fatherland is bright and fair ; 
 
 The war canoes prepared for fight ; 
 
 But weeping women fill the land, 
 
 For thou liest in thy silent bed. 
 
 Why didst thou leave thy treasures grand ? 
 
 Why hast thou wrapped thyself in night ? 
 
 From thy deep slumbers, chieftain, wake ! 
 And tell us of the things to be ; 
 In thy right hand thy mere^" take, 
 Lead us again against the foe. 
 Thy people will avenge their wrong. 
 Nor shrink from danger led by thee ; 
 Though foemen's ranks as sea-waves strong, 
 Thy people's vengeance they shall know. 
 
 But thou hast fallen, greatest chief, 
 The greedy earth retains her prey ; 
 And while we live our keen-edged grief 
 Remains with us for ever nigh. 
 Thy wond'rous fame shall ever live 
 In splendour like the brightest day ; 
 Thy deeds, to thy fame strong wings give, 
 On which 'twill ever soar on high. 
 
 Past 64.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 THE WOMAN IN THE MOON, ^s 
 
 A MAORI LEGEND, 
 
 HIGH in the dull blue heaven the round-faced moon, 
 Paling the twinkling stars, looks calmly down 
 
 On Rona^^ hast'ning from the slumb'ring town 
 Towards the lake,— hei- path nigh bright as noon — 
 To fetch fresh water, which her mother craves, 
 
 She bears a vessel : now she stays a space, 
 
 To view the mirrored moon's reflected face ; 
 But as she stoops she falls into the waves, 
 Misled by the deceptive moon's pale ray : 
 
 She rising curses his illusive light. 
 Then from the heaven swoops down the god of night, 
 
 And seizing Rona, bears her quick away. 
 Though parted from her friends she's still in sight, 
 
 For in the moon she will be seen alway. 
 
 IVAN GRAEME, 
 
 A NEW ZEALAND REVERIE. 
 
 THE moko chimes his richest notes 
 'Mid dark green kaio trees, 
 His distant comrade's answer floats 
 Upon the gentle breeze, 
 
 Page 65.
 
 IVAN GRAEME. 
 
 With sound as if a convent bell 
 
 Tolled softly far away, 
 
 Now heard, now lost, it rose and fell 
 
 With the wind's fitful play. 
 
 The deep blue azure of the sky 
 
 Is flecked, but here and there 
 
 With snow-white clouds slow sailing by 
 
 High in the balmy air. 
 
 The shrill cicada's noisy trill 
 
 Falls ceaseless on the ear, 
 
 From the tall flax bush by the rill 
 
 Which babbling runs, and clear. 
 
 The glossy kine browse lazily, 
 
 Or on the grass repose. 
 
 The grey-duck swims so warily 
 
 In pool where raupo grows : 
 
 While from the sea there swiftly comes 
 
 The black-capped, long-winged tern ; 
 
 The drowsy blue-fly heavy hums 
 
 Among the russet fern. 
 
 The wide Pacific's peaceful waves 
 
 Are scarce heard from the shore, 
 
 Save where a dark clifPs feet it laves 
 
 With distant mufiled roar. 
 
 The hill-sides, gently sloping, rise 
 
 Up to the forest's edge. 
 
 Thence high into the azure skies 
 
 E'en every peak and ledge 
 
 Paf^e 66.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 With dark-leaved trees is densely clad, 
 O'er which the tall pine trees 
 Rise proudly up, as though they had 
 A scorn for every breeze. 
 Through a low saddle in the west 
 A snow-clad peak appears. 
 Rearing 'mid clouds its mighty crest 
 White with the snows of years. 
 Hard by the brook a rude hut stands, 
 Thick thatched with dry snow grass, 
 Raised by some hardy settler's hands 
 To shield from southern blasts. 
 The sheltering eaves, deep hanging o'er 
 Its log-formed, rough-scarred face. 
 Make the small windows and the door 
 Seem frowning o'er the place. 
 'Twere out of keeping with the view 
 Did not the smoke rise slow 
 From chimney wide, as if it knew 
 The scene it left below 
 Was one of quiet beauty rare 
 Which it was loath to leave ; 
 And as it hangs upon the air 
 It almost seems to grieve. 
 
 A youth from out the open door 
 
 Steps forth into the day. 
 
 And, as he scans the landscape o'er, 
 
 Page 67.
 
 IVAN GRAEME. 
 
 He smiles as if he'd say : 
 
 " How fair and lovely all things seem, 
 
 From the bright lordly sun 
 
 To his reflected sparkling gleam 
 
 Where quick the waters run." 
 
 Stepping into the hut again, 
 
 With gun, returns the lad ; 
 
 He whistles to his collie then, 
 
 Who bounding comes, and glad. 
 
 By wagging tail, and many a sign 
 
 He testifies his joy ; 
 
 He barks and tells in ways canine, 
 
 'Tis pleasure to destroy. 
 
 Towards the bush the pair now stroll 
 
 And slowly climb the hill, 
 
 Resting awhile upon a knoll 
 
 That rises from the rill. 
 
 Impatient Taipo trots around 
 
 His master's chosen seat, 
 
 And eager sniffs along the ground 
 
 Then lies down by his feet. 
 
 His master 's in no sporting mood, 
 
 For silently he lies ; 
 
 He 's inly worshipping the All-good 
 
 And gazing at the skies. 
 
 "Yes, Taipo," he exclaims at last, 
 
 "All things are happy here ; 
 
 Pai^e 68.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 All things where'er my eyes I cast 
 
 Bespeak a Father's care. 
 
 How gladsome e'en things lifeless look, 
 
 Those quivering ti-tree^- leaves, 
 
 The gentle murmur of the brook, 
 
 The fern the soft wind heaves, 
 
 All speak of placid calm content ; 
 
 And all the things with life. 
 
 Together sing as if they meant 
 
 To wage harmonious strife. 
 
 Even the creatures which are dumb. 
 
 At least to human ear ; 
 
 Like that lithe lizard which has come. 
 
 Quite fearless though we're near. 
 
 To bask upon that worn grey stone A 
 
 A pleasure seems to feel'f 
 
 In motion, yea, from life alone, 
 
 A quiet joy they steal. 
 
 See, too, that glorious butterfly, 
 
 Deep black, with scarlet band. 
 
 Now flying oft", now resting nigh, 
 
 On yonder patch of sand. 
 
 Where shutting close, then opening wide, 
 
 His brilliant coloured wings, 
 
 Though bird-like song to him 's denied, 
 
 Joy every moment sings. /..y'VC'iVui'. . 
 
 I share the feeling that it is 
 
 Great pleasure to exist ; 
 
 Page 69.
 
 IVAN GRAEME. 
 
 I cannot shoot, a day like this 
 
 I'll from my sport desist. 
 
 So kakas,^'' pigeons, you may still 
 
 The sweets of life enjoy, 
 
 Of kowhai^" leaves, pray, eat your fill, 
 
 Your feast I'll not annoy." 
 
 Then springing quickly to his feet, 
 
 The youth resumes his way ; 
 
 He seeks the forest's cool retreat, 
 
 Hid from the glare of day, 
 
 By a thick canopy of green, 
 
 And tree-ferns spreading wide 
 
 Their giant fronds, where in between 
 
 The softened sunbeams glide 
 
 To fill the thicket's shade awhile 
 
 With pleasant mellowed light. 
 
 As if the fernlets to beguile 
 
 From endless shade and night. 
 
 Seeking this deep shade he wanders 
 
 To shun the mid-day sun. 
 
 Lost in deepest thought he ponders 
 
 Upon the course he'll run ; 
 
 And this strange problem does propound- 
 
 " I now my life enjoy. 
 
 Just as the animals around 
 
 With, haply, more alloy, 
 
 Page 70.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 For they're ne'er troubled with dull care, 
 
 Nor sense of shame or sin, 
 
 Nor struggle to resist a snare, 
 
 Nor warring thoughts within. 
 
 What though some pleasures they're denied 
 
 Permitted to mankind. 
 
 We've naught to boast of in our pride 
 
 Of pleasures of the mind. 
 
 If from the mines of literature 
 
 I treasures may extract 
 
 With thorough zest, I am not sure 
 
 My pleasure from the act 
 
 Is equal to the lizard's bliss 
 
 When basking in the sun : 
 
 A happy share of life is his 
 
 From morn till day is done. 
 
 If in the converse of dear friend 
 
 I ofttimes take delight. 
 
 Does my enjoyment thence extend, 
 
 As of the songster bright. 
 
 That from the bough of yonder tree. 
 
 With clematis^ o'erhung. 
 
 Sings to his distant mate with glee, 
 
 Who with responsive tongue. 
 
 Anon her hearty answer makes 
 
 In full melodious song. 
 
 And yet a further songster wakes, 
 
 Their concert to prolong ? " 
 
 Page 71.
 
 IVAN GRAEME. 
 
 Wandering and musing upon this, 
 
 Scarce marking as he strays, 
 
 The white stars of the clematis 
 
 Hung from the highest sprays ; 
 
 The stately rimu's^ drooping tress 
 
 By him is never seen, 
 
 The lowly mosses' loveliness, 
 
 Nor ferns of softest green ; 
 
 Until he gains a tree-fern grove, 
 
 Within whose twilight cool, 
 
 The brook with moss-grown boulders strove, 
 
 Then rested in dark pool. 
 
 The rich luxuriance of the spot 
 
 Awhile from his thought weans 
 
 The youth from pond'ring on his lot. 
 
 To Nature's fairy scenes. 
 
 The tree-ferns high like pillars rise 
 
 In some cathedral grand, 
 
 While feathery fronds, which hide the skies> 
 
 In a fair crown expand. 
 
 These form a roof so slight that though 
 
 Scarcely a sunbeam stole 
 
 Into the shade, there's light to show 
 
 Each fern-encrusted bole. 
 
 These tiny little frondlets fair 
 
 Like finest sculpture seem. 
 
 Even the " 'prentice pillar "'^^ rare, 
 
 I scarce can worthy deem 
 
 Pa^e jz^
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 To liken to these fern-stems tall, 
 Whose verdant ornament 
 Excells the shafts which they recall, 
 With grey stone leaves besprent. 
 "Here, Taipo, let us rest awhile, 
 Far from the sun's bright glare, 
 We'll here an hour or two beguile. 
 The time we well can spare ; 
 Since our first purpose we've foregone. 
 And have our sport forsook. 
 We'll pass an idle day alone 
 In this sequestered nook." 
 
 The tame bush robin "^ came to view 
 
 Who entered his domain, 
 
 From branch to branch he nearer drew, 
 
 To show his plumage plain ; 
 
 His dusky plumes and solemn mien, 
 
 Give him an aspect sad, 
 
 Did not his eye so brightly gleam 
 
 And tell, he too, is glad. 
 
 Here, resting on a mossy bed, 
 
 The youth the thought resumes, 
 
 He cannot banish from his head, 
 
 And thus he still communes : 
 
 " Am I no happier than that bird, 
 
 These plants I see around ? 
 
 Surely my Reason, that's absurd 
 
 There's some way to be found 
 
 Page 73.
 
 /l^AN GRAEME. 
 
 To gain a greater happiness, 
 
 Than these poor soulless things ; 
 
 I'll leave this lovely wilderness, 
 
 And see what Fortune brings. 
 
 Methinks I here too long have stayed 
 
 In rural solitude, 
 
 Though Nature's beauties here displayed 
 
 May save from growing rude. 
 
 Now I shall tread the path of Fame, 
 
 That sure will pleasure bring, 
 
 To live to make oneself a name, 
 
 Make men one's praises sing." 
 
 While yet he speaks, from 'mong the fern 
 
 A figure seems to rise. 
 
 With aspect as of warrior stern, 
 
 With bold, keen, flashing eyes. 
 
 No dusky, tattooed warrior he, 
 
 Nor ghost of Maori race. 
 
 Some buried mere come to see. 
 
 And guard the tapued ® place. 
 
 His features are of British mould. 
 
 Resplendent his array, 
 
 His coat of scarlet, laced with gold. 
 
 And all war's trappings gay ; 
 
 Medals and crosses on his breast 
 
 Tell of great honours won, 
 
 The cross of valour 'mong the rest, 
 
 Of deeds of brav'ry done. 
 
 Page 74.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Then in a tone of proud command, 
 
 Thus to the youth he spake : 
 
 " If to gain praise of men you've planned, 
 
 The path of glory take. 
 
 No other path so surely leads 
 
 To an immortal fame : 
 
 To warriors each the palm concedes, 
 
 And aye will do the same. 
 
 E'en in the tedious times of peace 
 
 The show and pomp of war 
 
 To gain men's homage do not cease, 
 
 Though that's commanded more 
 
 When some presumptuous foe essays 
 
 To trample on our rights, 
 
 Then is the greatest share of praise 
 
 To him who for them fights. 
 
 Think of the honour to be won 
 
 By gallant, noble deeds 
 
 On brilliant fields of glory done, 
 
 Whence lasting fame succeeds." 
 
 The youth, transported by this speech, 
 
 Exclaimed, "I'll follow thee 
 
 Till I the heights of fame shall reach 
 
 And all shall envy me." 
 
 He scarcely ceased, when lo ! he heard 
 
 A sweet soft voice reply. 
 
 No branch, no fern, no leaf was stirred. 
 
 No living soul seemed nigh. 
 
 !■ 
 
 P 
 
 Page 75.
 
 IVAN CRAEME. 
 
 As if they floated on the air, 
 
 The words fall on his ear ; 
 
 lie does the gentle tones compare 
 
 To those of mother dear, 
 
 Who in his early childhood died 
 
 When he scarce knew his loss. 
 
 To paint her form he oft had tried, 
 
 His fancy purged all dross, 
 And in his thoughts his mother seemed 
 ^ creature pure and fair, 
 A lovely being, whose eye beamed 
 With love and tender care, 
 
 Plis recollection faint retained 
 
 Some mem'ry of her voice ; 
 
 The semblance these soft words contained 
 
 Almost makes him rejoice ; 
 
 But with his feelings mingles awe, 
 
 No form descry can he, 
 
 E'en the brave warrior late he saw, 
 
 Just by that moss-grown tree. 
 
 Has vanished quickly as he came ; 
 
 Yet still the voice is near ; 
 
 It softly calls him by his name 
 
 In accents low and clear. 
 
 •' Seek not to tread war's gory path, 
 
 With horrid sword and flame ; 
 
 Fame gained through vengeful strife and wrath 
 
 Pa^e 76.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Is but a sorry fame : 
 
 To climb o'er heaps of slaughtered horde, 
 
 To wade through widows' tears. 
 
 Can no true happiness afford 
 
 In the succeeding years. 
 
 Ivan, if you must make a name, 
 
 Seek other means than this. 
 
 Can you not choose a path to fame 
 
 That all mankind may bless ? " 
 
 He wondered much to hear the voice, 
 
 His name, familiar, call ; 
 
 Take kindly interest in his choice. 
 
 And what may him befall. 
 
 "My mother's spirit this must be, 
 
 Watching her lonely boy, 
 
 The thought that she from Heaven might see 
 
 Has filled me oft with joy ; 
 
 And sometimes weaned from deeds of sin. 
 
 When higher influence failed 
 
 A way to gain my heart within. 
 
 To think she saw, prevailed. 
 
 But not till now I realised 
 
 Her spirit hovered near, 
 
 I scarce know if 'tis to be prized, 
 
 Or gives me cause to fear. 
 
 To fear ? Nay, surely there is naught 
 
 To dread from mother's love. 
 
 Pa^e 77-
 
 /^AN GRAEME. 
 
 That to her son her spirit's brought 
 From the blest realms above. : 
 
 "The counsel that she gives is good, 
 
 A name, ' mankind may bless,' 
 
 Is not attained through war and blood. 
 
 That from me I'll dismiss. 
 
 What then the road by vi^hich to mount 
 
 And gain the laurel crown, 
 
 To make mankind my praise recount, 
 
 And so achieve renown ? 
 
 Could I not guide the helm of state, 
 
 Or bloodless victories gain 
 
 With winged words in hot debate, 
 
 My purpose so attain ? 
 
 And if that purpose ever were 
 
 Th' advantage of the many, 
 
 What though the few should think I err. 
 
 Of fame I'll ne'er have any. 
 
 If I consider every man. 
 
 And try each one to please ; 
 
 When power's attained by this plan, 
 
 I need not care for these 
 
 O'er whom I've climbed to win applause 
 
 Of the vast multitude. 
 
 This were a noble course because 
 
 I may perchance do good, 
 
 And wield the power I'd striven to gain, 
 
 Pti^e 78.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Humanity to aid ; 
 
 So even should my influence wane, 
 
 My name should never fade." 
 
 " Ah, Ivan ! you are far astray," 
 
 Once more the voice responds, 
 
 " If motives such as these you sway, 
 
 You are enchained with bonds 
 
 Which low and grovelling, you will keep ; 
 
 Although you may outvie 
 
 All compeers in the path you seek. 
 
 You'll never thus mount high ; 
 
 For your ambition selfish is, 
 
 Though it you would excuse, 
 
 And conscience still mislead in this, 
 
 With self-deceiving ruse, 
 
 By saying you will aid mankind 
 
 When you have reached your goal, 
 
 But selfishness, you then would find, 
 
 Had leavened all your soul." 
 
 Once more the sweet tones died away. 
 Leaving the awe-struck youth 
 Much wondering, as well he may. 
 Whence comes this fond reproof. 
 And now the question he propounds : 
 " Is fame worth the pursuit ? 
 Since difficulty thus surrounds 
 
 Page 79.
 
 IVAS GRAEME. 
 
 Each fair enticing route. 
 
 Fame is but mortal after all, 
 
 We leave it at the grave ; 
 
 What a poor phantom to enthral, 
 
 A man's life to enslave ! 
 
 Methinks the pleasure it w^ould yield 
 
 Would scarce the toil reward, 
 
 And if by it one's heart were steeled 
 
 Self only to regard, 
 
 Then were the fame acquired one 
 
 Which would not blessings win ; 
 
 Ambition seems in unison 
 
 With selfishness and sin. 
 
 Is all ambition sinful, then ? 
 
 Nay, that can scarcely be, 
 
 For 'tis a power which raises men 
 
 Its good results we see. 
 
 'Tis true in Heaven it may not dwell, 
 
 But Heaven's not here below 
 
 How can arise wish to excel 
 
 Where all contentment know? 
 
 "But yet, methinks, I will not seek 
 Such giddy heights to scale ; 
 The highest pinnacles are bleak, 
 And catch each passing gale ; 
 So, when a man is set on high 
 Above the common throng. 
 
 Page 80.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 Many with envious tongue decry 
 
 The rank for which they long. 
 
 Some humbler calling I'll select, 
 
 And zealously pursue ; 
 
 To it my energies direct, 
 
 That wealth may thence ensue. 
 
 Well nigh all mankind seeks this aim ; 
 
 And ofttimes men succeed, 
 
 Why, then, should I not do the same, 
 
 Achieve the wished-for meed ! 
 
 It is a noble thing to toil, 
 
 ^Vhether with hand or brain, 
 
 To wield the pen or till the soil, 
 
 A livelihood to gain. 
 
 And if one works with all his might, 
 
 And thus amasses wealth 
 
 By naught but honest ways upright, 
 
 Surely his spirit's health 
 
 Will not from thence take detriment. 
 
 Nor suffer any harm ; 
 
 And wealth obtained, the increment 
 
 I'd make act as a charm 
 
 To drive away dull, weary care, ' 
 
 To dispel many a fear, /'^ . 
 
 To /radiate poortith's murkiest lair,'^ 
 
 To dry the widow's tear. 
 
 With gratitude some such to bind 
 
 Full closely unto me, 
 
 E Pose 8i.
 
 lyAN GRAEME. 
 
 Is far above praise of mankind, 
 True pleasure that would be. 
 My guardian spirit,, if you're near. 
 You'll think I'm right at last, 
 If you can my communings hear 
 You'll say, ' Be thou steadfast.' " 
 
 " Not yet," once more replies the voice, 
 
 " Although your end is good, 
 
 Ivan, I can't commend your choice. 
 
 You still yourself delude. 
 
 For where you end you should begin, 
 
 And not for recompence. 
 
 Do good not for the thanks you win. 
 
 But from obedience 
 
 To that command our Maker gives 
 
 Of all His law the key. 
 
 To think each one who round you lives 
 
 Dear as thyself to thee." 
 
 "Ah ! now your wish I comprehend 
 That I should give my powers 
 Evil to fight, the good defend. 
 Aye, in this world of ours. 
 But how in this can I succeed ? 
 How best can I do good ? 
 I fear there's much would me impede. 
 From such a course exclude. 
 
 Page 82.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES 
 
 Yet if I chose a preacher's life, 
 
 I this end might achieve, 
 
 And vict'ries gain o'er evil rife. 
 
 And still some praise receive. 
 
 With words of living eloquence 
 
 I would attract the crowd, 
 
 And as I'd gain small recompence 
 
 There's naught my fame would cloud. 
 
 But still I'm hankering after fame, 
 
 I feel I'm still astray. 
 
 Is pride or discontent to blame ? 
 
 What does my guardian say?" 
 
 " 'Tis certain pride must bear a part, 
 
 And discontent may join 
 
 In causing thoughts like these to start 
 
 And better thoughts purloin. 
 
 But now at last, methinks you see 
 
 The aim I'd have you choose, 
 
 Regardless what the end may be, 
 
 Your talent well to use. 
 
 You have a duty to fulfil 
 
 Whatever be your lot, 
 
 To further still your Father's will, 
 
 Without an earthly blot 
 
 Of selfish aim, or worldly end. 
 
 Which some try to unite, 
 
 Small success can such efforts 'tend ; 
 
 If they could see aright. 
 
 > U 
 
 Page 83.
 
 IVAN GRAEME. 
 
 Page 84. 
 
 Whatever work you have to do, 
 Do it with all your might. 
 Without another end in view 
 Than that the thing is right." 
 
 " What ! Taipo boy, I must have dreamed 
 
 Near a whole summer's day, 
 
 And yet full short the hours have seemed 
 
 As here I quietly lay. 
 
 We must move homewards ere the gloom 
 
 Of evening quick descends, 
 
 Which makes the bush dark as the tomb." 
 
 Downward his way he wends, 
 
 Still thinking o'er his thoughts again, 
 
 Towards the open land ; 
 
 Then, pausing, look'd p'er the campaign. 
 
 And as the view he scanned, 
 
 He marked the change on everything 
 
 Wrought by the eventide ; 
 
 The fluttering bat with silent wing. 
 
 The greyish moths beside. 
 
 More peaceful does the landscape seem 
 
 Than by the glare of day. 
 
 Silently homewards down the stream 
 
 The sea-fowl wing their way. 
 
 The only sound which meets his ear 
 
 Is more-pork's '*" eerie call, 
 
 And now anon he hears more near. 
 
 From out the flax plants tall,
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The wakeful weka's ^ weird wikl cry, 
 
 Which Taipo sportive seeks. 
 
 His master heavenward turns his eye 
 
 Where ling'ring day's last streaks 
 
 Of light have tinged the clouds with rose, 
 
 And all the western sky 
 
 Still bright with sunset's splendour glows 
 
 And Nature's richest dye. 
 
 " Methinks, in yonder cloud, which erst 
 
 Was colourless and white. 
 
 E'en as the sea-bird's spotless breast, 
 
 And now is rosy bright, 
 
 I see of what my life I should 
 
 Aye strive a type to make, 
 
 To keep it pure, and then it would, 
 
 If I work for His sake, 
 
 Perchance of glory catch some ray, 
 
 Which mankind might observe. 
 
 Taking assurance thence, that they 
 
 Him too may likewise serve. 
 
 Thus would my light before men shine, 
 
 To God they'd give the praise ; 
 
 His be the glory, gladness mine, 
 
 Now and through endless days. 
 
 I'll strive my duty well to do. 
 
 And leave the rest to God." 
 
 Whistling to Taipo, through the dew 
 
 Home to his hut he strode. 
 
 Pose 85.
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 A DISJOINTED STORY. 
 
 AMONGST old Scotland's heath-clad hills 
 A quiet village peaceful lay, 
 Adown the vale a sparkling stream 
 Went prattling on its seaward way ; 
 The street, nigh silent as the grave. 
 Seemed basking in the noonday sun ; 
 When loosed from school, the village pride, 
 The happy laughing youngsters run. 
 They scamper gleesome down the street, 
 Eager to gain the village green, 
 Where, at their joyous youthful sports, 
 Pictures of sturdy strength they seem. 
 
 Some by the open smithy door, 
 A moment lingering, wait to see 
 The big smith raise the fiery shower 
 Which each successive blow sets free ; 
 The wheelright's heap of logs close by, 
 For them a moated castle makes : 
 An active youth soon from on high 
 With a defiant cry awakes 
 
 i'a^e 86.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The slumbering echoes all around ; 
 The other lads return the shout, 
 Quick storm the fancied vantage ground, 
 And the presumptuous braggart rout, 
 Themselves to be o'erthrown in turn : 
 Till wearied of this violent play, 
 One speaks of " dooking " in the burn. 
 Thence happily they troop away. 
 
 The leader ever in their sport, 
 And best at books as well as play. 
 Was a tall stripling Alan Scott ; 
 None could his right thereto gainsay. 
 The master's favourite was he ; 
 lie looked upon the lad with pride, 
 And oft he said Alan would be 
 A great man yet, before he died. 
 A youth beloved, was Alan too, 
 His manly breast held gentle heart ; 
 The harassed girl or youngster knew 
 That Alan Scott would take their part, 
 And free them from the bullying boy. 
 Who quailed 'neath Alan's flashing eye : 
 None dared the small or weak annoy. 
 If Alan Scott were only nigh. 
 
 II. 
 
 A quiet lane embowered by trees, 
 Known as the " The Lover's Loan ; " 
 
 Pa^e 87.
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 The scent of bean- fields on the breeze, 
 
 From o'er the wall of stone ; 
 
 The summer sun's last ling'ring ray 
 
 Steals through the quiv'ring leaves 
 
 As hand in hand two lovers stray ; 
 
 But yet the maiden grieves. 
 
 "Ah ! Alan Scott, I lo'e ye weel," 
 
 The maiden weeping said, 
 
 " But you 'gainst me your heart maun steel 
 
 For we maun ne'er be wed." 
 
 "And why? " asks Alan in amaze, 
 
 " If really you love me." 
 
 Her tearful eyes met Alan's gaze, 
 
 " You're far owre guid," said she, 
 
 "You, Alan Scott, \vi' heaps o' lear, 
 
 An' me that scarce can read ; 
 
 Ye need a wife baith learned and fair ; 
 
 It canna be, indeed." 
 
 " Is that all, Mary ? " laughed the lad ; 
 
 " Come, lassie, dry your tears : 
 
 You're leal and true, — now don't look sad, 
 
 But put away your fears. 
 
 It's you who are too good for me. 
 
 Of that I'm very sure, 
 
 I'm restless whiles, may changeful be ; 
 
 You're constant as you're pure." 
 
 "Weel, Alan, gin ye wish it sae, 
 
 I'll pledge my troth to you ; 
 
 Page\
 
 FAR SOUTH fancies: 
 
 I aye thocht o' ye every day, 
 
 My fancy has come true. " 
 
 " Mary, I've naught, but love is strong ; ^ ' ' - / '' 
 
 Now I will strive to win 
 
 Enough, so that we may ere long. 
 
 Our wedded life begin. " 
 
 III. 
 
 A letter for me frae New Zealand ! 
 
 A letter frae over the sea ! 
 
 Oh ! then 'tis a letter frae Alan, 
 
 My laddie has written to me. 
 
 How weary the months sin' we parted, 
 
 I dreaded I never wad hear, 
 
 That may be the saut sea had drooned him. 
 
 But noo there's naething to fear. 
 
 He says he has only just landed, 
 
 An' writes by the very first mail, 
 
 He likes fine the look o' the country, 
 
 He'll write soon again wi'oot fail. 
 
 He speaks aboot gaun to the diggin's. 
 
 To howk for the glittering gowd, 
 
 Says he'll work sair, late and early. 
 
 For the lass o' whose luve he's so proud. 
 
 Na lassies, I'll no read the rest o't. 
 
 There's some bits I'll keep to mysel' ; 
 
 Hoo I \^'^sh that I was a scholar, 
 
 A' my ain thochts to Alan to tell. 
 
 Page S9
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 IV. 
 Oh ! but my heart was very sair, 
 
 An' I was unco wae, 
 When my true love, sae braw, sae fair, 
 
 Cam his fareweel to say. 
 He pressed me to his manly breast, 
 
 He fondly gazed on me, 
 An' saftly vowed, as me he kissed, 
 
 "Lass, I'll aye think o' thee." 
 
 An' oh! when he was fairly gane, 
 
 I thocht my heart wad break. 
 My tears cam fast, like winter rain, 
 
 For my ain laddie's sake ; 
 For he'd to cross the stormy main. 
 
 To land beyond the sea ; 
 But aye, I cheered mysel' again. 
 
 An' said, " He thinks o' me." 
 
 He toils for gowd in that far land 
 
 Where noo 's the simmer sun, 
 Soon he'll return as aft he planned. 
 
 An' say his bride is won. 
 Cauld poortith drave awa' my lad. 
 
 We couldna married be. 
 But ae thocht ever makes me glad. 
 
 He's thinking aye o' me. 
 
 Pagt 90.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The nippin' winter wind blaws cauld, 
 
 For that I little care, 
 For by my ain warm heart I'm tauld 
 
 My love will soon be here ; 
 He'll come back ower the saut, saut faem, 
 
 He canna langer be, 
 He'll soon be here, and big a hame, 
 
 An' then he'll marry me. 
 
 In the quiet hamlet 
 
 Erstwhile Alan's home, 
 
 There a fond heart beats yet, 
 
 Beating still alone ; 
 
 Fondly beats, though breaking, 
 
 Filled with weary pain. 
 
 Years of weary asking, 
 
 " Will he come again ? " 
 
 Oft at first, his loved one, 
 
 His betrothed bride. 
 
 Got a lover's letter 
 
 O'er the ocean wide : 
 
 These she fondly carries 
 
 In her bosom fair. 
 
 And upon her warm heart 
 
 Lies a lock of hair. 
 
 Pige 91-
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 Seldom and more seldom 
 Come the letters now, 
 Few are the words of love 
 They on her bestow ; 
 Colder still and colder 
 Grows his studied tone. 
 Not now lover's letters, 
 She is forced to own. 
 Poverty it is not 
 Which thus chills his heart, 
 He writes of gains of gold 
 In the busy mart ; 
 Oh ! that he would tell her 
 He has ceased to love 
 Hope deferred is painful ! 
 Will he constant prove 
 She would gladly serve him. 
 Be his willing slave, 
 Gladly love and serve him, 
 Though no love he gave. 
 Oh ! that he would tell her 
 That can never be : 
 Death ere long would free her 
 From her misery. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In fair New Zealand's fertile isles. 
 Wooing fickle Fortune's smiles. 
 
 Page 92.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCrES. 
 
 Wooing so well the fickle dame 
 
 Smiles responsive to his flame : 
 
 Thus passing years found Alan Scott, 
 
 Love and home almost forgot ; 
 
 He thinks alone of gaining gold, 
 
 Dreams he e'en of wealth untold. 
 
 Unwedded Alan still remains ; 
 
 Wedded but unto his gains : 
 
 Something which his heart has heeded, 
 
 Him, from marriage has impeded. 
 
 At last he woos a lady fair, 
 
 Her lands are broad, her beauty rare, 
 
 But lovelier in Alan's eyes, 
 
 Are her lands, for which he sighs. 
 
 The love of wealth has changed his heart 
 
 As by some alchemic art, 
 
 If not to gold, 'tis turned as hard, 
 
 All his youthful promise marred 
 
 Yet a remembrance lingers still, 
 
 And oft intrudes, against his will, 
 
 Of Mary, who did years ago 
 
 On him her loving heart bestow, 
 
 "Yes, Mary was a bonny lass, 
 She did the village girls surpass ; 
 Doubtless, she long since has wed 
 A peasant husband," Alan said ; 
 ' ' To wed her was my early dream, 
 
 Page 93.
 
 FAITHLESS. 
 
 My boyish fancy her did deem 
 Well worthy to become my wife, 
 But little knew I then of life, 
 A poor unlettered girl was she, 
 In naught my equal could she be ; 
 A pretty face and a warm heart 
 Are very good, but only part 
 Of what in wife one should expect. 
 A self-made man had best select, 
 One who will aid him with her dower, 
 Better to climb to wealth and power, 
 But not one who will keep him down, 
 Reminding he was once a clown." 
 Thus conscience qualms reas'ning away 
 Alan became a bridegroom gay ; 
 Yet he not having sweet content. 
 More wealth desired till life was spent. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Peaceful in her virgin grave 
 Mary's worn-out body lies. 
 Now no more that spirit brave 
 For her faithless lover sighs. 
 Some rumour that to her he had 
 Proved so false as wed another. 
 She heard and said, " The dear lad ! " 
 Then as though her sobs to smother 
 
 Page 94.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Laughingly she said, " I never 
 Thought that he would marry me. 
 Well I knew that love would wither 
 Ta'en across the saut, saut sea." 
 
 Many men who came to woo, 
 
 She rejected, sent away, 
 
 To false Alan she proved true. 
 
 Even to her dying day ; 
 
 She who might well have gladdened 
 
 Some one's loving heart and home 
 
 Lived alone, hopeless, saddened, 
 
 Pined away, and died alone. 
 
 Dead, a neighbour found one day, 
 Mary kneeling by her bed. 
 Though her soul had fled away. 
 Seemed as though a prayer she said ; 
 Her thin hands together pressed, 
 Firmly held a lock of hair, 
 Her dress, unfastened at the breast. 
 Showed Alan's letters lying there. 
 Now her lowly grave is gay 
 With the green and daisied sod, 
 While o'erhead the mavis' lay 
 Tells her tale of love to God. 
 
 Page 95.
 
 MAUNGATUA. 
 
 MAUNGATUA.« 
 
 THE spirit's mountain, such the name 
 The early Maori gave : 
 Where's his forgotten grave ? 
 We know not, but thou'rt still the same 
 Gloomy and dread Maungatua. 
 
 Thou art the spirit's mountain still, 
 Though aye thou dost not frown, 
 But on the plain look'st down ; 
 
 Which now the white-browed ploughmen till ; 
 
 With changeful face Maungatua. 
 
 Thou hast for us lost half thy gloom, 
 
 For we can see thee smile 
 
 And pleasant look awhile. 
 When summer's sun make flowerets bloom 
 And lights thy brow Maungatua. 
 
 And when the winter's southern wind 
 With many a keen toothed blast 
 Has snow upon thee cast. 
 
 Thy hoaiy head proud o'er thy kind 
 
 Thou holdest high Maungatua. 
 
 Page 96.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Thine aspect ever seems to change, 
 As when on breezy day 
 The cloud shades o'er thee play 
 
 And fly along thy lofty range ; 
 
 Yet thou 'rt the same Maungatua. 
 
 The spirit that in Nature lives, 
 
 And speaks to him who hears, 
 Arrayed in strength appears. 
 And to thy massive mountain gives 
 Thy spirit name Maungatua. 
 
 MOUNT COOK. 
 
 (aorangi.) 
 
 I. 
 
 FROM THE MUELLER GLACIER. 
 
 MAJESTIC mountain monarch holding high 
 Thy ice-crowned summit hoar 'mid heavens blue, 
 Whence calm clouds creeping come caressing you 
 To veil thy grandeur from the awe-bound eye ; 
 Seeks none of all thy court with thee to vie ; 
 Each one who sees thee, owns the^. monarch true, n \j 
 
 Thy spell withdraws and chains the wand' ring view. 
 For Nature's majesty doth in thee lie. 
 
 Page 97-
 
 MOUNT COOK. 
 
 How trivial man seems thus brought face to face 
 With Nature's power which scenes like these display : 
 Slow grinding glacier, avalanche's race, 
 While turbid torrents tear their seaward way. 
 What count a thousand years in such a place. 
 And what is feeble man's life's little day ? 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM THE FOOT OF LAKE PUKAKI. 
 
 HOW fair the prospect here before us spread, 
 The bright blue lake whose placid waters gleam 
 Where-breeze-stirred ripples catch day's dying beam — 
 High o'er the valley at its head 
 Aorangi's snows rise which these waters fed, 
 Led long miles thence by Tasman's treacherous stream 
 Though nigh the lake his icy gi^andeurs seem. 
 Yet by their distance they are softened. 
 
 The mountain gains in beauty, losing awe, 
 Yet more the awful to my soul appealed, 
 It spoke of Nature's power and ruthless law ; 
 Here Nature's powerful forces are concealed. 
 I peaceful pleasure from the prospect draw 
 For Nature's beauty's by the scene revealed. 
 
 Pagey
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 FAERIE. 
 
 WHY have we in these isles no fairy dell, 
 No haunted wood, nor wild enchanted mere ? 
 Our woods are dark, our lakelets' waters clear, 
 As those of any land where fairies dwell. 
 In eveiy verdant vale our streamlets tell 
 Their simple story to the list'ning ear, 
 Our craggy mountains steep are full of fear, 
 E'en rugged men have felt their awful spell. 
 
 Yet lack they glamour of the fairy tale, 
 Nor gnome nor goblin do they e'er recall, 
 Though Nature speaks, e'en in the wind's sad wail. 
 Who shall give meaning to Her voices all ? 
 The poet's art,— as yet without avail, — 
 Must weave the story of both great and small. 
 
 OUR HERITAGE. 
 
 A PERFECT peaceful stillness reigns. 
 Not e'en a passing playful breeze 
 The sword-shaped flax-blades gently stirs 
 The vale, and slopes of rising hills 
 Are thickly clothed with yellow grass. 
 Whereon the sun, late risen, throws 
 His rays, to linger listlessly. 
 
 Page 99.
 
 OUR HERITAGE. 
 
 Naught the expanse of yellow breaks, 
 Save where a darker spot denotes 
 Some straggling bush of thorny scrub ; 
 While from a gully down the glen, 
 The foliage of the dull-leaved trees 
 Rises to view ; and the calm air 
 From stillness for a moment waked 
 By parakeets' harsh chattering, 
 Swift followed by a tui's -^ trill 
 Of bell-like notes, is hushed again. 
 The tiny orbs of glistening dew, 
 Still sparkle gem-like, 'mid the grass ; 
 While morning mist, their mother moist, 
 Reluctant loiters on the hill. 
 Whence presently she'll pass to merge, 
 In the soft depths of the blue heav'ns. 
 
 This fertile isle to us is given 
 
 Fresh from its Maker's hand ; for here 
 
 No records of the vanished past 
 
 Tell of the time when might was riglit 
 
 And self-denial weakness was, 
 
 But all is peaceful, pure, and fair. 
 
 Our heritage is hope. We'll rear 
 
 A nation worthy of the land ; 
 
 And when in age we linger late, 
 
 Upon the heights above life's vale, 
 
 Before we, like the mist, shall merge 
 
 Past loo.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 In depths of God's eternity, 
 We'll see, perchance, our influence 
 Left dew-like, working for the good 
 Of those whose day but dawns below. 
 
 OTAGO. 
 
 I DEARLY love my native land 
 Where passed my happy boyish days ; 
 Years since I left its wave-washed strand, 
 Yet still I fain would sing its praise. 
 Ne'er Caledonia I'll forget 
 While memory lingers in my frame ; 
 Although I left without regret, 
 Still proud to bear her honoured name ; 
 I thought me of the happy time 
 When home my footsteps I should turn 
 To that loved land, from foreign clime ; 
 E'en thinking made my bosom burn. 
 I thought of all her heroes bold, 
 Of sturdy Bruce and Wallace wight, 
 Of many a tale of valour told 
 Of martyrs for their God and right. 
 "No spot on earth can equal thee. 
 No land on earth with thee compare. " 
 So thought I then, and still agree, 
 Yet other thoughts my bosom share. 
 
 Page loi.
 
 OTAGO. 
 
 For long I've lived in this fair land, 
 Where still I peacefully would d-weW ; 
 First peopled by a hardy band 
 From the old land I love so well. 
 
 Otago ! Yes, I love thee too ! 
 With Scotia you my heart divide ; 
 Thy memories as yet are few, 
 But thy young strength awakes my pride. 
 Here much reminds me of the shore 
 Where my last years I thought to spend ; 
 Thy youth and beauty charm me more, 
 And here I hope my days to end. 
 Haply some caviller may demand, 
 "How can two loves together dwell ? 
 Were I not sprung from old Scotland, 
 Then might I love Otago well." 
 Ask yonder youth, I would respond, 
 From childhood's home but late removed, 
 If, since a new love he has found, 
 His mother is less truly loved ? 
 Indignant, he will quickly say, 
 "Cannot affection's stream divide? 
 I dearly love my mother grey. 
 More tenderly I love my bride." 
 The loving heart more loving grows. 
 The more the objects of its love. 
 For Heaven-born love no limit knows, 
 But infinite is, as God above. 
 
 Page 102.
 
 FA R SO UTH FA NCIES. 
 
 Old mem'ries let us cherish still ; 
 Here too, is land of hill and flood, 
 Recalling oft the heath-clad hill 
 Where in my youthful days I've stood. 
 Back from the dead I then recalled 
 Old Scotia's lion-hearted men ; 
 Now, here my fancy's never palled 
 With peopling every plain and glen. 
 Yes peopling every glen and plain 
 With men as brave and stout and true 
 As those who raised old Scotland's name, 
 With naught but nature to subdue ; 
 Men who in days that are to come. 
 Will form one loving brotherhood. 
 Will make of this our chosen home, ^ 
 The home of all that's pure and good. 
 Oh ! blessed Hope, thou second grace 
 Who stand'st 'twixt Faith and gentle Love, 
 How men forget thine honoured place. 
 And yet thou'rt sent us from above ; 
 And of how much thou art the spring ; 
 Men hope to gain their wished-for aim : 
 Let our ambition then take wing, 
 Our country we shall raise to fame : 
 Fame more enduring, better far. 
 Than that by strife and warfare gained ; 
 Fame, shining like some brilliant star. 
 Through arts of peace shall be attained. 
 
 Pas:e 103.
 
 A NEW ZEALANDER\S SONG. 
 
 Feeble although our efforts be, 
 They tend to shape a growing State, 
 Which we can fancy strong and free: 
 Let's try to make it good and great. 
 
 A NEW ZEALANDER'S SONG. 
 
 DEAR are thy rugged hills to me, 
 My own wave-circled native land ; 
 Thy very soil is dearly loved, 
 
 From snowy peak to ocean strand. 
 
 Thy massive mountains bare and stem. 
 Their crystal torrents leaping free. 
 
 Thy shady dells, bedecked with fern, 
 Where can be found their like to me? 
 
 My father sings of Scotland's hills. 
 The bonny heath, and harebell blue. 
 
 And memories of his country's ills, 
 
 And Scottish hearts both stout and true. 
 
 My gentle mother tells me oft 
 
 Of merry England's flowery vales, 
 
 And pleased my youth in accents soft, 
 Recounting her land's pleasant tales. 
 
 Page 104.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 But these fair lands to me are naught, 
 Compared with this, which is mine own, 
 
 Though not endeared by freedom bought 
 With blood from cruel tyrant's throne. 
 
 Though quaint old stories tell us not 
 Of good old days and merry times, 
 
 Thank Heaven ! loved hills, 'tis not your lot 
 To recall our ancestral crimes. 
 
 What, though no martyr's hallowed blood 
 Has crimson stained thy grassy slopes, 
 
 'Tis not past memories we prize. 
 But our own strong and ardent hopes. 
 
 For thou Zealandia, yet shalt rise 
 The peaceful mistress of the sea, 
 
 And noble work is ours to build 
 A happy nation, great and free. 
 
 TO THE MOKO-MOKO OR BELL-BIRD. 
 
 (No'tU rapidly dying out of our land.) 
 
 ■ ERRY chimer, merry chimer. 
 Oh, sing once more. 
 Again out pour, 
 Like some long-applauded mimer 
 All thy vocal store. 
 
 M 
 
 Page 105.
 
 TO THE MOKO-MOKO OR BELL-BIRD. 
 
 Thy short but oft-repeated song, 
 
 At early dawn 
 
 Awakes the morn, 
 Telling that joys to thee belong, 
 
 Greeting day new-born. 
 
 Alas ! we now but seldom hear 
 
 Thy rich, full note 
 
 Around us float, 
 For thou seem'st doomed to disappear. 
 
 E'en from woods remote. 
 
 Some say the stranger honey-bee, 
 
 By white men brought, 
 
 This ill hath wrought ; 
 It steals the honey from the tree. 
 
 And it leaves thee naught. 
 
 The songsters of our Fatherland 
 
 We hither bring. 
 
 And here they sing. 
 Reminding of that distant strand 
 
 Whence old memories spring. 
 
 But as the old we love the new ; 
 
 Fain we'd retain 
 
 Thy chiming strain, 
 Thy purple throat and olive hue : 
 
 Yet we wish in vain. 
 
 Page io6.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Thy doom is fixed by Nature's law ; 
 
 Why, none can tell. 
 
 Therefore farewell ; 
 We'll miss thy voice from leafy shaw, 
 
 Living silver bell. 
 
 Why should we ever know new joys, 
 
 If thus they pass ? 
 
 Leaving, alas ! 
 Wistful regret, which much alloys 
 
 All that man now has. 
 
 TO A LARK ON A SPRING MORNING.^s 
 
 MELODIOUS warbler, whose unceasing song 
 Wakes envy in my breast, and makes me long 
 To pour my soul in such a strain 
 As that which wellest from thy wond'rous throat 
 While upon spreading wings I see thee float 
 High in the blue air o'er the plain. 
 
 The happiness of life I feel like thee. 
 As in thy wanton joy thou soarest free ; 
 
 This bright spring morn I too rejoice 
 And long to rise upon unwearied wing, 
 But more I long thy gladsome song to sing ; 
 
 I feel ; but cannot find a voice. 
 
 Page 107.
 
 THE CLEMATIS. 
 
 The fresh clear air, the warm bright sun, 
 The new day which has just begun, 
 
 The whiteness of the sailing cloud, 
 Each flower and leaf, the young grass glitt'ring green, 
 The deep blue sky, and every thing I ween 
 
 All make me yearn to sing aloud. 
 
 Obedient to my wish no voice will come. 
 And my soul's music must be ever dumb, 
 
 Or mourn in some poor twitt'ring note, 
 The lack of that great gift, melodious song 
 To utter all I feel within me strong 
 
 Wliich dies within my songless throat. 
 
 THE CLEMATIS. ^^ 
 
 FAIR crown of stars of purest ray, 
 Hung aloft on mapau*^ tree, 
 What floral beauties ye display. 
 
 Stars of snowy purity : 
 Around the dark-leaved mapau's head 
 Unsullied garlands ye have spread. 
 
 Paec io3. 
 
 Concealed were all thy beauties fain 
 
 'Neath the dark umbrageous shade, \ 
 
 But still, the loftiest spray to gain 
 Thy weak stem its efforts made : 
 
 Now, every obstacle o'ercome, 
 
 Thou smilest from thy leafy home. 
 
 ^ [ttx/vJL
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 That home secure, 'mid sombre leaves, 
 Yielded by thy stalwart spouse, 
 
 Helps thee to show thy fairy crown ; 
 Decorates his dusky boughs : 
 
 His strength, thy beauty, both unite 
 
 And form a picture to delight. 
 
 Fair flower, methinks thou dost afford. 
 
 Emblem of a perfect wife : 
 Whose work is hidden from the world, 
 
 Till perchance, her husband's life 
 Is by her influence beautified ; 
 And this by others is descried. 
 
 SONGS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 A SONG OF SPRING. 
 
 BIRD in thy mossy nest 
 Cosily hid. 
 Bird in thy mossy nest 
 Young leaves amid ; 
 
 Nigh is thy tuneful mate, 
 Singing with glee ; 
 
 Hopeful thy tuneful mate, 
 Hope gladdens thee. 
 
 Pa^e 109.
 
 SONGS OP THE SEASONS. 
 
 Hope that from speckled eggs 
 Fledglings will grow ; 
 
 Brood o'er the speckled eggs : 
 Soon time will show. 
 
 Fearless of coming storm, 
 
 List how thy mate 
 Sings without fear of storm, 
 
 Without joy elate. 
 
 Why then do men alone 
 
 Fear coming ill ? 
 Only are men alone 
 
 Dread-haunted still. 
 
 Evil may never come ! 
 
 Whence comelh fear ? 
 The present is gladsome, 
 
 Be of good cheer ! 
 
 II. 
 
 A SONG OF SUMMER. 
 
 BIRD in the leafy shade, 
 Placid at rest, 
 Screen'd by the leafy shade 
 Patient and blest 
 
 Page no.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANC/ES. 
 
 Calm sleeps the summer noon 
 
 Round thy retreat, 
 Hot glares the summer noon, 
 
 Shadow is sweet. 
 
 Content in thy shady bower 
 Wait the cool breeze. 
 
 Then from thy shady bower 
 Flit through the trees. 
 
 In the cool eventide 
 
 Joyfully sing, 
 The winds at eventide 
 
 Fan with thy wing. 
 
 Man is not quite content 
 E'en when most blest. 
 
 Why is he not content. 
 Never at rest ? 
 
 Taking with calm or joy 
 
 All that is sent, 
 Without the base alloy 
 
 Of discontent. 
 
 Pag€ HI
 
 SONGS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 III. 
 
 A SONG OF AUTUMN. 
 
 BIRD 'mid the golden sheaves 
 Taking thy share, 
 Picking from ripened sheaves 
 Thy evening fare. 
 
 Sure with no thought of thee 
 
 Sown was the seed, 
 Reaped without thought of thee 
 
 Or of thy need. 
 
 Yet from another's toil 
 Thou tak'st the gain, 
 
 Fed by another's toil, 
 His was the pain. 
 
 But with thy mellow song 
 Cheered was his heart ; 
 
 Sing then thy happy song, 
 Such is thy part. 
 
 Who should from weary toil 
 
 Seek to be free ? 
 Fruit from thy wearj' toil 
 
 Thou may'st not see. 
 
 Pa^e 112.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Naught but thy best aye do, 
 Some one will reap. 
 
 Strive then thy best to do ; 
 
 Why should 'st thou weep ? 
 
 IV. 
 A SONG OF WINTER. 
 
 BIRD on the leafless bough 
 Summer has fled, 
 Bird on the leafless bough 
 Flowers are dead. 
 
 Dead too thy trilling song, 
 Dead in thy grief ; 
 
 Not e'en a saddened song 
 Mourns for the leaf. 
 
 E'en now on leafless bough 
 Swells the small bud. 
 
 Soon all the leafy bough 
 Blossoms shall stud. 
 
 Then 'mid the summer leaves, 
 
 Winter forgot, 
 Singing 'mid summer leaves, 
 
 Thy happy lot. 
 
 Pao^exi-i-
 
 O N HEARING A YELLOW-HAMMER SING NEAR DUNE DIN. 
 
 Why then, poor stricken soul, 
 
 Why dost thou grieve? 
 Thou knowest stricken soul 
 
 Time will relieve. 
 
 Ah ! will not mem'ry keep 
 
 Sharp grief alive ? 
 Never will mem'ry sleep 
 
 Howe'er I strive. 
 
 ON HEARING A YELLOW HAMMER SING NEAR 
 
 DUNEDIN. 
 
 LIST to that pretty little bird, 
 Singing on yonder bush of thorn ; 
 Its plaintive notes I have not heard, 
 Save in the land where I was bom. 
 
 Full oft in boyhood's sunny days, 
 I've listened to its short sweet song 
 
 When wand'ring o'er the whinny braes 
 Or briery knowes, the whole day long. 
 
 How gleefully v.-e used to mock 
 
 The yellow yorlin's simple lay ; 
 With eager hands pull back the dock 
 
 That hid its nest of hair and hay. 
 
 Page 114.
 
 FAR SOITTH FANCIES. 
 
 Gone is the friend with whom I played, 
 In these my boyhood's happy hours ; 
 
 Not long from him Death's hand was stayed ; 
 He gained not his full manhood's powers. 
 
 When but a stripling to the plough 
 He set his hand right manfully ; 
 
 Though short his time for work, I trow 
 There's few who more have done than he. 
 
 With zeal, for sake of Master loved, 
 He strove to aid his fellow-men ; 
 
 The task too heavy for him proved. 
 
 How soon we'd part, I thought not then. 
 
 Here in this sunny southern land, 
 
 In this bird's song there's something sad ; 
 
 Or, is't that led by memory's hand, 
 I mourn him lost when yet a lad. 
 
 Yes, yellow yorlin, this is all 
 
 Thy simple song has done for me ; 
 
 Not these sad thoughts rose at thy call 
 But thoughts of boyhood, full of glee. 
 
 There's no more sadness in thy note 
 Than in the song my lost friend sings, 
 
 \Vhere sounds of Heavenly music float 
 Around the throne of King of kings. 
 
 Page 115.
 
 rHE EXILE SKYLARK. 
 
 Sing on then, little yellow bird, 
 
 Though thou, like us, art stranger here ; 
 To those by whom thy song is heard 
 
 Thou'lt oft recall their boyhood dear. 
 
 THE EXILE SKYLARK. 
 
 UPWARD soaring, ever singing, 
 From on high thy clear song ringing, 
 Ringing from the heaven's high blue, 
 To me descends like music's dew. 
 
 As the soft dew when evening's shade. 
 Falling o'er every hill and glade. 
 Freshens each flower and leafy spray, 
 After the glare and heat of day. 
 
 So does thy song's sweet joyous trill. 
 
 My bosom with refreshment fill, 
 
 When 'gainst my will sad thoughts arise. 
 
 And Ileaven-sent Hope has closed her eyes. 
 
 Like me an exile here thou art, 
 But still thou sing'st from joyous heart, 
 For the same Father watches thee 
 As in that isle far o'er the sea. 
 
 Page 116.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 That distant isle where my poor heart 
 Oft turns with longing home-sick smart, 
 To think of friends by me held dear, 
 Ne'er to be seen again I fear. 
 
 But He to whom thy sweet songs pour 
 From thy small throat, let me adore. 
 For He will keep my friends and me, 
 Though severed by wide leagues of sea. 
 
 E'en as I pause, the song has stopped, 
 And like a stone the lark has dropped 
 Through the clear air, and to its nest 
 'Neath the tall flax it sinks to rest. 
 
 The exiled lark is joyous here. 
 And soars and sings in skies more clear 
 Than in the land from whence he came. 
 Then why should I not be the same ? 
 
 In this fair land I'll make a home 
 To which my far-off friends shall come. 
 A nation here we'll help to raise. 
 And here we'll spend our future days. 
 
 Pageiij.
 
 PATTERING FEET. 
 
 PATTERING FEET. 
 
 LITTLE feet, 
 Pattering feet, 
 In my ear 'tis music sweet 
 The trotting little steps to hear, 
 Footsteps of my children dear. 
 
 Soon, too soon, 
 
 The little shoon 
 Will cease their pattering tune ; 
 For as the little feet grow strong, 
 Youth's rosy path they'll dance along. 
 
 And 'tis clear. 
 
 If we bide here, 
 Steadier footfalls we shall hear, 
 When youth and childhood passed away 
 They reach the zenith of their day. 
 
 Oh ! never 
 
 May they ever. 
 Forbid it, O, Great Giver, 
 Drag weary feet o'er life's rough way. 
 Or for the grave goal sadly pray. 
 
 Page 1 18
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Dear to me 
 
 Shall ever be 
 Sound of patt'ring footsteps wee : 
 It will recall to my delight, 
 My laughing rosy children bright. 
 
 GANYMEDE. 
 
 GANYMEDE with golden hair, 
 Curling round your brow so fair. 
 Laughing, trotting everywhere, 
 My little Ganymede. 
 
 Little eyes of bluish grey. 
 In which roguish sparkles play 
 Bright and twinkling all the day, 
 My little Ganymede. 
 
 Little cheeks with blush of rose, 
 'Tween, a short and tiny nose. 
 Lips which little teeth enclose, 
 My little Ganymede. 
 
 Ever restless, never still, 
 Chatt'ring with a magpie's will, 
 Till sleep the little eyes shall fill, 
 My little Ganymede. 
 
 Page 119.
 
 X/SSES. 
 
 KISSES. 
 
 WHAT is a kiss, 
 When longing lovers' lingering lips 
 In gentle dalliance meet, 
 And in the present sweet. 
 They feel each but a foretaste sips 
 Of future bliss 
 In passionate kiss ? 
 
 \\Tiat is a kiss, 
 When as a pledge of wedded loves 
 
 It speaks of mutual joys. 
 
 Or mutual grief alloys ? 
 The keenest edge of pain removes 
 
 Token like this 
 
 A wedded kiss. 
 
 What is a kiss 
 When on sweet baby's rosebud mouth 
 
 A loving mother pours, 
 
 In no unstinted showers. 
 Like rains from out the boist'rous south, 
 
 In happy bliss 
 
 A mother's kiss ? 
 
 Pa^e 120.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 What is a kiss 
 When a true friend's heartfelt greeting, 
 
 No language can express, 
 
 Finds tongue in warm caress, 
 After weary absence meeting? 
 
 There's none could miss 
 
 Speech in such kiss. 
 
 What is a kiss, 
 When coldly on the passive cheek, 
 
 Some trait'rous Judas heart, 
 
 False meaning to impart, 
 Or something for himself to seek, 
 
 With snakelike hiss 
 
 Imprints a kiss ? 
 
 YOUNG ALLEN. 
 
 THE BRAVE BUGLER BOY. 
 
 COME all ye bright New Zealand lads. 
 And listen unto me ; 
 I'll tell you of a gallant boy. 
 From land beyond the sea : 
 
 That brave old land, our fathers' home 
 Where still our kindred dwell, 
 
 Pas'e :
 
 YOUNG ALLEN. 
 
 Which next to our own genial isle 
 Wc proudly love, and well. 
 
 'Twas in our island's early days, 
 When settlers were but few, 
 
 When hostile Maoris waged fell war, 
 A bold and warlike crew. 
 
 In the fair valley of the Ilutt 
 
 Some fifty soldiers lay, 
 When close the stealthy Maoris crept, 
 
 An hour ere break of day. 
 
 Young Allen, the brave bugler boy, 
 
 The stealthy foemen saw ; 
 He raised his bugle to his lips. 
 
 From sleep the men to draw. 
 
 But ere he sounded the alarm, 
 
 A tomahawk's fell stroke, 
 Wielded by brawny dusky arm, 
 
 The bugler's right arm broke ! 
 
 The bugle in his left he took, 
 
 Undaunted by the blow. 
 And sounded loud its warning notes, 
 
 And roused his comrades so. 
 
 Pn^^e 122.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 He roused them, but the vengeful foe 
 Struck at the stripling's head, 
 
 And 'neath the Maori tomahawk 
 The brave young boy fell dead. 
 
 The rude-roused soldiers bravely fight, 
 Their ground they stoutly keep ; 
 
 All, but for Allen's warning note, 
 Had perished in their sleep. 
 
 Now lads, a duty truly done, 
 
 Is aye a gallant deed. 
 E'en though it be some simple thing 
 
 Which men may never heed. 
 
 THE PRAETOR ^LIUS TUBERO. 
 
 ■ T was not 'mid diHi of battle, {u j "P^ 
 
 I 
 
 The noble deed was done ; 
 It was not with hot blood coursing 
 With hope of victory won. 
 
 But without a thought of safety. 
 
 With nothing to excite, 
 It was duty to his country 
 
 That nerved his hand with might. 
 
 Pa^e 123.
 
 THE PRAETOR MLIUS TUBERO. 
 
 For it was not then as now is 
 
 With many public men, 
 Whose motive 's love of power or gain ; 
 
 'Twas love of country then. 
 
 In the forum was assembled 
 The pride of ancient Rome ; 
 
 The praetor ^lius Tubero, 
 To sit as judge was come. 
 
 And while the noble ^lius 
 
 Meted out justice there, 
 The sky was quickly darkened, 
 
 Where erst. all had been fair. 
 
 For from out the heavens fluttering, — 
 It was a weird strange thing, — 
 
 A woodpecker alighted down, 
 And closed his wearied wing. 
 
 Just by the hand of yElius, 
 
 On the tribunal there. 
 His hand has caught the trembling bird, 
 
 While shouts rise on the air. 
 
 " Oh ! of what is this the omen? 
 
 Some ill it may portend ! 
 Oh ! stay thy hand brave ^lius, 
 
 And for the augurs send." 
 
 Pas:t 124.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 The Story strange the augurs learned, 
 
 And saw the trembling bird, 
 They interpreted the omen, 
 
 And all assembled heard. 
 
 " If with its life that bird escapes, 
 
 And flies unscathed hence, 
 Our great Republic soon must fall. 
 
 Oh ! woeful consequence. 
 
 " But if the bird doth here remain, 
 
 111 threatens only him 
 To whom this doleful bird has flown. 
 
 Whose hand it rests within." 
 
 Then yElius heaved a heavy sigh, 
 
 For bright had been his life ; 
 Much honoured by the citizens ; 
 
 Beloved by child and wife. 
 
 And hope of many years he had, 
 
 Peaceful and happy days ; 
 Youth's fever o'er, he waited for 
 
 Old age's placid ways. 
 
 But now — Ah ! now, he quick must choose 
 
 His death or country's doom. 
 He sees around the people stand 
 
 In silence and in gloom. 
 
 Page 125.
 
 IFOAfAN'S POWER. 
 
 Then presses tightly his strong hand 
 
 The beating heart inside, — 
 The heart he crushed then was his own,- 
 
 The bird ill-omened died. 
 
 And from that day on ^lius came 
 
 The dread of coming ill ; 
 And an ever-haunting horror 
 
 His brave heart's blood would chill. 
 
 Then ere long another praetor 
 
 Was chosen in his place, 
 For the great yElius Tubero 
 
 Had run his earthly race. 
 
 And his country throve and prospered 
 
 The better for his deed. 
 Which told e'en horror could be braved, 
 
 If such the nation's need. 
 
 WOMAN'S POWER. 
 
 A NORSE HALLAD. 
 
 YOUNG Harald is a mighty man, 
 A right brave man is he, 
 In hunt or war he takes delight ; 
 He scorns the wind-Iash"d sea. 
 
 Page 126.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 He knows not fear this Norseman bold ; 
 
 He rules his comrades rude ; 
 And 'mong them all the jarl is first 
 
 In sport, or field of blood. 
 
 But now in gloom he silent sits, 
 Though flowing mead he quaffs ; 
 
 While round his roist'ring comrades drink, 
 He does not join their laughs. 
 
 'Tis woman's spell is on his heart, 
 
 And he of Gyda thinks, 
 Gyda who sent an answer proud ; 
 
 To banish thought he drinks. 
 
 He sent to claim fair Gyda's hand ; 
 
 And much to his surprise, 
 His messengers without her came — 
 
 Did she his suit despise ? 
 
 Gyda was fair, but she was wise, 
 
 She saw her land was torn 
 By strife and war, 'mid petty jarls : 
 
 The land was made forlorn. 
 
 If 'neath a king they all were joined, 
 Then great would be the land, 
 
 And they might sail with conqu'ring sword, 
 To foemen's distant strand. 
 
 Page 127.
 
 lyOMAN'S POUTER. 
 
 "Tell Harald," was her answer proud, 
 
 " I'll only wed a king ; 
 Let him all the Norse jarls subdue 
 
 And then his message bring." 
 
 Her answer still he's brooding o'er 
 
 As in his hall he sits, 
 He wonders, did she him despise : 
 
 His gloomy brow he knits. 
 
 Then forth he called his messengers 
 And questioned them again : 
 
 She would wed no one but a king ; 
 And Harald of all men 
 
 Was much the ablest to achieve 
 This great and wished-for end. 
 
 Why should they think of love and joy, 
 When much there was to mend ? 
 
 She could not wield her father's sword ; 
 
 Nor lead to victory ; 
 But she could use her influence ; 
 
 Through man a conqueror be. 
 
 Then Harald swore a mighty oath 
 That he this deed would do : 
 
 He even swore by mighty Thor; 
 The jarls he'd subdue. 
 
 J'age 128.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 He swore his hair he'd never cut, 
 
 Till he was Norway's king : 
 And then, his sceptre to the feet 
 
 Of Gyda fair would bring. 
 
 For twelve long years fierce war he waged 
 
 Twelve years did Gyda wait : 
 Then victory his efforts crowned ; 
 
 On Norway's throne he sat : 
 
 And patient Gyda was his Queen, 
 
 The first of Norway's line : 
 Who for her loved country's good 
 
 So long did lonely pine. 
 
 FATE. 
 
 HAST ever seen wild woodland bird. 
 Beat its cage bars with baffled wing ; 
 E'en when its cruel captors hoped, 
 That it for them would sweetly sing ? 
 
 Hast ever seen tall tow'ring tree 
 Wave wild its branches to the gale ? 
 Let strive the strong winds as they may, 
 Surely its roots shall never fail. 
 
 Page 129.
 
 FA 7 E. 
 
 But yet the bird exhausted falls, 
 From futile fight for freedom dies ; 
 While the tall tree's unbending pride 
 Before the blast uprooted lies. 
 
 Mark thou the calm Christ, where he stands 
 Before proud Pilate's judgment seat : 
 The Roman boasts his power to slay 
 Or free, as seems to him most meet. 
 
 The only power his pris'ner owns, 
 Is given by the will Divine : 
 To which he yields, submissive still : 
 Though hard the lot ; does he repine ? 
 
 When dire disaster man o'ertakes. 
 He fareth best who sees God's hand, 
 And calm accepts the heavy blow, 
 Why dealt, he cannot understand. 
 
 No feeble flutt'rings aid the bird ; 
 Its stalwart strength helps not the tree ; 
 Nor aye for sin misfortune comes : 
 It is God's will, it is to be. 
 
 J^as^e 130.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 THE blow had fallen sure 
 With cruel stunning stroke, 
 Dry-eyed and still she sat, 
 It seemed as though her heart had;broke ; 
 Not even by a moan she spoke. 
 Alas ! Alas for the hearts that bleed ! 
 Who ? Oh! who can bring them the balm they need? 
 
 Why has this evil come ? 
 No human ken could know ; 
 
 And with an aching wound 
 She through her lonely life must go, 
 While following ills will surely grow. 
 Alas I Alas for the hearts that bleed! 
 Who ? Oh ! who can bring them the balm they need? 
 
 No human hand could aid ; 
 Undo the evil done ; 
 
 Not even God himself 
 Can alter what he has begun : 
 Give faith in the deceitful one. 
 Alas ! Alas for the hearts that bleed! 
 Who ? Oh! who can bring the?n the balm they need? 
 
 The sinner may repent, 
 And victims may forgive, 
 The evil wrought remains 
 
 Page 131.
 
 CHRISTIAN ENGLAND. 
 
 Though they through long, long years shall live : 
 
 Forgetfulness comfort may give. 
 
 Alas ! Alas for the hearts that bleed! 
 
 [fho ? Oh ! who can brim^ the/n the balm they need ': 
 
 Oh ! could I ease the pain ! 
 How helpless quite we are ! 
 
 The sufTrer I console, 
 But on my ears my own words jar ; 
 P'or words, grief seems too sacred far. 
 Alas I Alas for the hearts that bleed! 
 Who ? Oh ! mho can bring them the balm they need ? 
 
 Poor though my speech might be, 
 It touched a hidden chord, 
 
 Of sympathy it told : 
 Now springing tears relief afford, 
 Waked by a sympathetic word. 
 Sympathy staunches the zuound that bleeds, 
 Though the ache retnains, and the scar succeeds. 
 
 CHRISTIAN ENGLAND. 
 
 YOU say that England is a Christian land : 
 If so it be, I cannot understand 
 How in each city 
 Hundreds there are who starve ; ay even die 
 For want of food ; and scarce evoke a sigh 
 Of passing pity. 
 Page i3».
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 How many children nursed and reared in crime 
 But as an oath know God's great name divine, 
 
 Yet how few care ! 
 How many girls stray into paths of shame, 
 And how seducing men get little blame, 
 
 'Tis fast they are ! 
 
 How in the lap of luxury caressed 
 
 The rich, indifferent, see the poor oppressed : 
 
 'Tis their hard fate. 
 How toil the workers for a pittance small 
 While to the drones the fair sweets fall, 
 
 They never sate. 
 
 How even 'mong the servants of the Man, 
 Who but for others lived, for such His plan, 
 
 We see some feed 
 Upon the zealous services of those 
 Who work for God and them with scant repose. 
 
 Oh, cruel greed ! 
 
 How many a gen'rous soul, with noble aim, 
 Starts on life's journey, with his heart aflame 
 
 With purpose high : 
 Crushed by the Juggernaut of selfish greed 
 Which soon o'ertakes him with relentless speed 
 
 We see him lie. 
 
 Page 133.
 
 CHRISTIAN ENGLAND. 
 
 How even in the weighty things of state, 
 Diplomacy, not Christian love has weight. 
 
 And guides the course 
 Of statesmen politic, who do not ask 
 What Christ would do : for is it not their task 
 
 Good terms to force ? 
 
 That many Christians do in England live 
 Is true : my humble thanks to God I give. 
 
 But yet how few 
 Are truly guided by the mind of Christ ; 
 Ready to give, no matter how high priced, 
 
 And their best do. 
 
 When abject want shall cease, and haughty pride 
 Shall never modest merit thrust aside, 
 
 And the meek stand 
 In foremost places, when the Church no more 
 Wants union, nor does narrow strife deplore, 
 
 'Twere Christian land. 
 
 When will that be? when shall God's Kingdom come? 
 He knows, though in wise silence still is dumb. 
 
 Yet it shall be. 
 When we have learned how distant still we are 
 From being Christian land ; and very far 
 
 Such falsehoods flee. 
 
 Page 134.
 
 J^AH SOUTH FANCIES . 
 
 AND YET IT MOVES. 
 
 THE old man stood in the judgment hall 
 Before proud Rome's high tribunal, 
 His judge's powers his soul appal : 
 
 Eppur si muove !^® 
 
 Dungeons had told on his weary frame ; 
 Their threatened curse his soul o'ercame ; 
 Damnation in the Church's name : 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 He raised his hand, as they told him to, 
 His weighty words he all withdrew, 
 Swore to renounce his teaching new. 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 Swore the world was fixed by God's decree, y 
 
 And naught but fixed could it be ; 
 To say aught else was heresy. 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 But yet, as he raised his head on high 
 And saw the sun shine in the sky, 
 Burst forth the half repressed cry, 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 Look on the world as we see it now, 
 Despairing one what wilt thou vow ? 
 'Tis moving, thou canst scarce allow. 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 Page 135.
 
 B EAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BUR DENS. 
 
 Two thousand years since the Master came, 
 And yet the world is still the same, 
 Though some invoke the Master's name. 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 Still, still the same race for wealth and power 
 Cannon smoke darkens noonday hour ; 
 Skies for poverty darkly lower : 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 It moves, it moves, and dawn must the day, 
 When light of love shall round us play ; 
 The law of love shall all men sway. 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 Then Christ shall reign and the morning break, 
 Burdens be borne for brothers' sake, 
 Men to brotherhood shall awake. 
 
 Eppur si muove ! 
 
 BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS. 
 
 WHAT is the Christian's aim ? 
 His soul to save. 
 What is his life to bring ? 
 Peace 'yond the grave. 
 
 Page 136.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES 
 
 Taught this the Nazarene ? 
 
 Strife for self still ? 
 Nay, but obedience 
 
 Unto God's will. 
 
 What is the will of God ? 
 
 His work to do. 
 What is the will of God? 
 
 Tried by how few ! 
 
 Each other's burdens bear : 
 
 This is the law ; 
 But for the love of God, 
 
 Sans selfish flaw. 
 
 BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 WHAT power can raise the world ; 
 Conquer its strife ; 
 Give to the wretched souls 
 A few joys in life? 
 
 Civilization's march 
 
 Tramples the weak ; 
 It brings abundant wealth, 
 
 And want's pahd cheek. 
 
 Page 137.
 
 r,ROT HER HOOD. 
 
 " Liberty will mend all 
 
 Some one may cry. 
 It gives to modern slaves 
 
 But freedom to die. 
 
 " Give us equality ! " 
 
 Cries bonnet red, 
 " Make all men equal ; 
 
 The riddle is read." 
 
 Nay, for the power divine 
 
 Not so decreed. 
 All have not equal brain, 
 
 The same strength or speed. 
 
 So must the race be still 
 
 Gained by the swift ; 
 Strength gains the victor's crown ; 
 
 The weak are bereft. 
 
 The key is brotherhood. 
 
 Kindly and true : 
 Naught but such brotherhood 
 
 The world can renew. 
 
 Then would the well endowed 
 The weakling aid ; 
 
 rag:e 133.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 They by the weakling's love 
 Be amply repaid. 
 
 Even though some should err 
 Seventy times seven ; 
 
 Aye by fraternal love 
 Still be forgiven. 
 
 Not such forgiveness means 
 Freedom from pain ; 
 
 But sympathetic aid 
 From ill to refrain. 
 
 Rich men would never then 
 
 The poor despise. 
 Ne'er in the poor man's breast 
 
 Would envy arise. 
 
 Nor would the churches' pale 
 
 Brotherhood bound, 
 In each one around would 
 
 A brother be found. 
 
 If God be the Father 
 
 Of all mankind ; 
 Then such a brotherhood 
 
 We some day must find. 
 
 Page 139.
 
 THE THREE GRACES. 
 
 THE THREE GRACES. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 A DOUBTING heart ne'er 'complished doughty deed, 
 For Doubt is ever followed close by Fear, 
 And obstacles insup'rablc appear, 
 Which quick before the eye of Faith recede. 
 The truly Faith-inspired all danger braves, 
 Hut if each one were govern'd by his fears, 
 This world would be indeed "a vale of tears," 
 For to pale, tim'rous Fear all would be slaves. 
 Then let us ever work and strive for right, 
 Believing that 'twill conquer in the end ; 
 And though the evil here, our hearts may rend, 
 At God's own chosen time by His great might 
 All baneful evils from the world he'll send. 
 And Faith, courageous, will be lost in sight. 
 
 II. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 fi/*'-' 
 
 . 'f„ 
 
 TO every man a strong faith is not given, 
 For Nature in some souls has planted doubt, 
 And from their hearts they cannot cast it out ; 
 But that it may not their whole manhood leaven. 
 
 Page 140.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 They welcome to their bosoms bright-eyed Hope, 
 
 True Faith's fair sister : yet she cannot give 
 
 The certainty assured, which they who live 
 
 In Faith possess, but still they thus may cope 
 
 "With sick'ning doubt, which sin can never be ; 
 
 Else how could Hope be deemed a Christian grace, 
 
 If in no bosom doubt could find a place ? 
 
 If all had Faith, and all could clearly see 
 
 The look triumphant on her heavenly face. 
 
 Then Hope divine from this strange world would flee. 
 
 III. 
 CHARITY. 
 
 FAITH is a lever which the world can move, 
 And Hope can well-nigh strangle pale-face Fear ; 
 But neither Faith nor Hope can e'er come near 
 In power or beauty to the best grace Love. 
 For Hope in certainty will one day end, 
 And Faith, the strongest, must be lost in sight. 
 But love divine will ever grow in might, 
 Though even now it does them both transcend. 
 With life below both Faith and Hope must die ; 
 But Love eternal shall for ever live : 
 For God is Love ; and he will surely give 
 Some measure of His love to those who try. 
 Of Charity a portion to receive. 
 And it dispense to all whom they come nigh. 
 
 H Page 141.
 
 A CLOUDLESS SKY. 
 
 "]<!0\N I KNOW IN PART." 
 
 PROLIFIC Nature without seeming care 
 Brings forth her children often but to die, 
 E'en without birth some perish, and we pry 
 Into her secrets, and we oft declare 
 She knows no pity but delights to slay : 
 But not without result a germ can die 
 Though such may be deep hid from mortal eye ; 
 The truth that it has been will last alway. 
 
 Thus is it with the life of every man 
 Whose every act bears its abundant fruit 
 For good or evil : and could we but scan 
 The cause of each eftect, and to its root 
 Trace every influence, — 'twere vain pursuit, — 
 Each act we'd see formed part of the whole plan. 
 
 A CLOUDLESS SKY. 
 
 IT is a perfect day, and prone I lie, 
 Hid from the sun's fierce glare by leafy shade. 
 And through the breaches by the bent boughs made 
 I upward gaze to the soft deep blue sky. 
 
 Page 142.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 An azure vault it seems to my dull eye ; 
 
 And yet I know no roof is there displayed ; 
 
 By nothing would my upward flight be stayed 
 
 If to the nearest planet I would fly. 
 
 Or to the presence of my God would rise : 
 
 My God, who from my dim and earthly sight 
 
 Is hidden ; and I scarce can realise 
 
 How I am kept from knowing Him aright. 
 
 When I would look on Him with longing eyes 
 
 I know His fullest beauty 's hidden quite. 
 
 LIGHT.''^ 
 
 " T IGHT, more light," thus spake the dying sage, 
 
 1 J As dark'ning death-films stole across his eyes ; 
 The final words were writ upon his page ; ^ / -^ X' 
 
 His wish was granted, btrt beyond the skies :• ' '"^''^ - ' > 
 
 He soon had gained the light. 
 
 All Nature echoes and repeats this cry : 
 
 The shaded plant, long drawn, of sickly hue, 
 Stretches its petals pale towards the sky 
 
 From whence it draws its health and colours too : 
 It dies without the light. 
 
 Light, still more light, is carolled by the lark, 
 ^Vhen up at dawn he springs to meet the day ; 
 
 Page 143.
 
 LIGHT 
 
 Depressed to earth through gloomy hours of dark, 
 He now exultantly pours forth his lay, 
 Transported by the light. 
 
 The busy toilers of the restless ^ivaves, 
 
 By whose joint efforts, fertile isles are made, 
 
 By sinking rocks are carried to dark graves ; 
 Their building sons, by their dead sires upstayed, 
 Press upwards to the light. 
 
 All things in Nature love and seek the light, 
 Except the prowling, savage beasts of prey ; 
 
 The pois'nous night-flowers, though of colours bright, 
 Wither and die beneath the eye of day ; 
 For evil shuns the light. 
 
 Light, still more light, is ever man's desire, 
 Though sought by him in many devious ways ; 
 
 For to mere worldly knowledge some aspire. 
 Who make much progress in that winding maze, 
 And yet reach not the light. 
 
 " The wisdom of self-interest," like night spread 
 Over the earth, so shuts out love's bright beam 
 
 That by such " wisdom " groping men are led 
 
 To shun love's rays, if they on them should stream 
 In a full blaze of light. 
 
 Page 144.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Under this pall of darkness, everywhere 
 
 Full many an evil influence doth lurk ; 
 Some dark as night, and others seeming fair. 
 
 But seem so only through the gloomy murk 
 Scarce pierced by the light. 
 
 The light of love vi'hich now illumes the world 
 
 Makes but a twilight, not what ought to be. 
 But light shall spread till darkness hence be hurled, 
 
 And by pure love all nations clearly see 
 And recognise the light. 
 
 To gain this end each one may bear a part, 
 
 And hasten on the brilliant glorious day 
 When aught of selfishness within man's heart 
 
 Shall like the snows of winter melt away, 
 When smitten by the light. 
 
 And in that land above, where ne'er is night. 
 
 And naught of love of self can enter in. 
 All those who through the glass have gained some light 
 
 Though much obscured and dimmed by earthly sin. 
 Shall there obtain clear light. 
 
 There, is no night, for God Himself is there ; 
 And God is light, and light is love, 
 
 Page 145.
 
 THE SYDNEY EXHIBITION. 1870- 
 
 The strength of Heavenly love who'll here declare, 
 Or tell the brightness of those courts above, 
 Where all is holy light ! 
 
 THE SYDNEY EXHIBITION, 1879. 
 
 A CENTURY complete has scarcely passed 
 Since the first daring English wand'rer stood 
 Upon this favoured ground where now we stand. 
 The stately gum trees raised their lofty tops 
 O'er hills and dales untrod by human feet, 
 Excepting those of some poor native black, 
 Who, with his boomerang or well-poised spear. 
 Stole, silent, near the grazing kangaroo ; 
 Or launched upon the waters of the bay 
 A bark canoe — his fishing vessel frail. 
 Perchance the English stranger as he gazed 
 Upon the harbour, circled like a lake ; 
 As yet unploughed by keel save his own ship's. 
 The only fleet a flock of dusky swans, 
 Which, near some fearless white-plumed pelicans, 
 Swam stately on the quiet water's breast ; 
 Pondered upon the future of the land ; 
 But never in his dreams did he foresee 
 The wond'rous changes passing years have wrought. 
 
 Pag: 146.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 Perchance the wattle's glorious golden bloom, 
 
 Breathing its fragrance on the stilly air, 
 
 The changeful blossoms of the Christmas-bush, 
 
 Or calistemon's flaming brush-like plume, 
 
 Meet and delight the adventurer's eye. 
 
 His list'ning ear is startled by the sound 
 
 Of human laughter from that merry bird 
 
 Which oft has mocked some wand'rer in the bush ; 
 
 Or by the warning sent'nel's strident scream, 
 
 Telling from lofty bough his feeding mates 
 
 That danger for the cockatoo is nigh. 
 
 A fairyland of flowers and bright -hued birds 
 
 To him it seemed ; as now to us to-day 
 
 A fairyland indeed it surely is. 
 
 For here has risen, as 'neath wizard's wand, 
 
 A fair and prosperous city, whose strong sons 
 
 A fitting spacious palace now have reared, 
 
 Wherein the peaceful arts, which nations bind 
 
 And make the peoples great, are gathered ; 
 
 The triumphs of the onward moving world. 
 
 Here in a friendly strife are met late foes ; 
 
 German and Frank their countries' wares display, 
 
 'Mid goodly merchandise from distant climes. 
 
 E'en populous Cathay and far Japan 
 
 Have sent their laboured products here to vie 
 
 With those which Europe's younger nations bring. 
 
 Page 147.
 
 THE SYDXEY EXHIRTTION. 
 
 And fair Columbia, England's earliest born, 
 Strong in the might of her inventive skill 
 And ceaseless energy, shows here her strength. 
 When England ill-advised first cast her off. 
 She wedded Freedom, and has grown so great 
 That with her mother she can now compete — 
 Surpass her too, in some industrial arts : 
 And mother England here has likewise sent, 
 To her first-born Australian daughter's mart, 
 The honey from her ever toiling hives. 
 Oh, England ! hither send thy wisest men 
 To see thy Austral daughters, and to learn 
 That not within thy little isle alone 
 Do thy sons dwell : that thou hast duties too. 
 Not always well performed, towards the band 
 Of thy far off Australian daughters fair ; 
 Foster the feelings, strengthen every tie, 
 Which binds these growing nations to thy heart. 
 
 Aye growing nations we right well may say, 
 For if a century has the marvel wrought 
 Which now we see, and this great city reared. 
 It needs no eye prophetic to behold 
 Fair Sydney, seated by her beauteous bay 
 Thronged with commerce ships of many lands 
 The Queen majestic of the Southern Seas. 
 
 Page 148.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Pronunciation of Maori Words. In Maori all the vowels are broad, and every 
 vowel should be sounded. Thus a is sounded as in water, e as in berry, i as ee in 
 feed, o as in roll, and u as in mute ; and these sounds are, unlike those of the English 
 vowels, invariable. The consonants are sounded as in English ; and the only 
 combination at all puzzling in its pronunciation is the union of n and g, which 
 especially when it occurs at the beginning of a word, looks alarming, as in Ngaio. 
 These letters are always sounded as the same combination in the English sing, ring, 
 &c. In Otago the ng becomes k, thus Ngaio (a small tree), becomes Kaio ; Kainga 
 (a village), Kaika ; Waitangi (weeping water), Waitaki, &c. The following examples 
 of phonetic spelling of one or two of the words occurring in the text may assist the 
 reader. Whare, pronounced wharry, ti = tee, reinga. — ray-eng-ah, nure = may- 
 ray, ritnu == ree moo, tohunga = to hung-ah, &c. Even in the Colony, especially 
 in the south, where there are few, indeed practically no Maoris, the native names are 
 already greatly corrupted, both in pronunciation and spelling. The writer has 
 adhered to the popular method in Waihola, the name of a lake a few miles south of 
 Dunedin, which is manifestly incorrect, as there is no / in Maori ; in Taieri (pro- 
 nounced by the settlers tie-ry), a river in Otago, and also a fertile plain near Dunedin , 
 which it waters, which is a corruption of Taiari, and also in Aiirangi, which is 
 commonly pronounced as if the first two letters formed a diphthong, instead of two 
 syllables. It is the native name of Mount Cook. (q. v. post.) 
 
 I. Pa or Pah, a fortified village. 
 
 Pase 149.
 
 NOTES . 
 
 2. \Vh ARE, a native house built of slabs of timber, roofed with raupo or native bull- 
 rush leaves ( TyJ'ha angiisti/olia) ; the walls being often covered outside with the 
 same material, wliile inside they were frequently lined with the flower stems of the 
 Toi-toi grass (Ariindo conspicua). The name is often applied by the Colonists to a 
 hut of any kind. 
 
 3. Tangaroa piri whare ; " Tangaroa is hiding in the house," is a Maori proverb. 
 Tangaroa is one of the great Polynesian gods, and is invisible, but hears all. 
 Hence the phrase is equivalent to the saying that " walls have ears." (Colenso.) 
 
 4. HuiA Plumes. The Huia {Heteralocha ar«^zVi)j^rzi) is a bird rather smaller 
 than an English blackbird, though the tail is longer. It is of a bright glossy black, 
 and the tail feathers are tipped with white. As the bird is very local in distribution, 
 and withal somewhat rare, the tail feathers were greatly prized by the Maoris, and 
 were used by the chiefs as a head decoration. These plumes when not in use were 
 generally kept in a bo.x (He papa). Some of these boxes are beautifully carved, and 
 are marvels of patience and ingenuity. The symmetry and beauty of the carved 
 lines would not disgrace an artistic workman aided by every modern appliance, and 
 yet they were the production of savages possessing only stone tools. 
 
 5. ToHUNG.\ a Maori priest or medicine man. 
 
 6. Tapu, "sacred." A person or thing might be made tapu, either purposely or 
 accidentally. The institution, which was a peculiar one, had many ramifications. 
 A chiers belongings were tapu, as were crops or game preserves in what we should 
 call the close season ; a dead body was tapu, &c. It was customary for the Maoris 
 to tapu anything they wished to preserve. The tohunga by performing certain rites 
 could remove the tapu, or at least some kinds of it. There was a blending of the 
 political and religious in the institution, which was similiar to that pervalent in many 
 of the islands of the South Seas, whence we derived our word taboo. 
 
 7. Weka, wood-hen or Maori hen {Ocydromus Australis), is a rail with speckled 
 brown plumage, about the size of a game fowl and of crepuscular habits. Its^cry is 
 loud and melancholy. It was a most useful bird, killing rats and young rabbits ; but 
 
 ^"^t 150.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 it is now disappearing before the ferrets and weasels introduced for the purpose of 
 checking the rabbit plague. 
 
 S. Flax. The plant known as New Zealand flax {Phorjnimn ienax) has long 
 ensiform leaves commonly called blades. It grows in clumps or bushes. The leaves 
 yield a valuable fibre formerly dressed by the natives and made into mats, which 
 formed their clothing. 
 
 9. Bush ; the natural forest is so called in New Zealand. 
 
 10. MoA. " We cannot like the Moa feed on air," is, according to Colenso, one of the 
 few Maori sayings referring to this extinct gigantic bird (Dinornis gigantea). It 
 must at one time have been very numerous, especially in the South Island, as the 
 remains of several species are not uncommon. The period of its extinction is a moot 
 point, but it was evidently used for food by the natives, as the bones, especially the 
 smaller ones, are found in Maori ovens or kitchen middens ; and in close proximity to 
 one of these the writer has gathered small chips of eggshell lying exposed on the 
 surface of the ground on the bare spaces between the tussocks of grass. This points 
 to its comparatively recent extinction ; and the absence of many references to this 
 bird in Maori traditions may be accounted for by their being almost extinct in the 
 North Island on the arrival of the Maoris; while in the South Island, where the 
 moas were much more numerous, it is ascertained that there have been several 
 immigrations of tribes from the North who ruthlessly slaughtered their predecessors: 
 so that in one of these invasions the knowledge of the moa may have passed away 
 with the lives of the conquered tribe who had themselves exterminated them. 
 
 11. Eels. The eel is the only native freshwater fish of consequence. They abound 
 in all the lakes and rivers, and formed a staple article of diet with the natives. The 
 rivers are now well stocked with magnificent trout. 
 
 12. Ti is the native name of the cabbage tree {Cordyline Anstralis). The young 
 leaves, when pulled from the centre of a shoot, are edible at the base. 
 
 13. Reinga. There are several different Maori fables regarding reinga, or the abode 
 
 Page 1 5 It
 
 NOTES. 
 
 of the spirits of the dead. The word literally means the leaping-off place. (Taylor's 
 *' New Zealand," p. 231.) The name was given to the North Cape or land's end, 
 whither the spirits were supposed to travel, and whence they entered the spirit land. 
 A cape near Cape Maria Van Diemen is still called Cape Reinga, and the adjacent 
 bay Spirits* I3.iy. The following extracts from a paper on "The mythology and 
 traditions of the Maori," by the Rev. Mr Wohlers (New Zealand Institute Trans- 
 actions, vol. viii. p. Ill), give the South Island natives' conception of Reinga :— 
 
 "When people died, their souls went to a place called the Reinga, somewhere 
 under the earth. . . . The Reinga was surrounded by hills, having a lake in the 
 centre, round which on the banks, the departed dead lived again in their bodily shapes. 
 When a spirit arrived, she alighted first on the top of one of the hills, and waited till 
 observed from below. Then some one would call up, 'Dost thou belong to me?' 
 If not, the soul would shake her head; but if asked by a parent or relation, then she 
 would throw her head back as a sign of yes. Then she would be asked to hover down, 
 and when she reached the ground, she would be again in her bodily shape." Mr 
 Wohlers says the old wise men could give no clear description of their conception of 
 the life after death, but they said that souls died again, and some after passing through 
 several stages returned to the upper world in the shape of blue-bottle flies! No 
 doubt this idea was the result of a train of thought similar to that which led the 
 Greeks of old to depict P.syche with the wings of a butterfly. 
 
 14. Mount Erebus is an active volcano in the Antarctic regions lat. 760 16 S. 
 long. 1680 ii' E.), which was discovered by Captain Ross on the 28th January 1841. 
 It is 12,400 feet high. 
 
 IS- Mounts Cook and Tasman are two mountains in the South Island of New 
 Zealand. The latter named after the first discoverer of New Zealand, as is also the 
 river draining the area South East of these mountains. Mount Tasman is a dome- 
 shaped mountain 12,300 feet high ; while Mount Cook's more pointed summit is the 
 highest peak in New Zealand (13,200 feet), and is justly named after our own great 
 navigator who first ascertained the extent and character of Tasman's discovery, 
 though It must be admitted that the native name Aorangi is more musical and poetical. 
 It IS somewhat freely translated " the heaven-piercing peak," Ao meaning the earth 
 or world, and Rangi the sky. Ao also means day, so that some render the meaning 
 
 fa£;e 152,
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 " the day in the sky," or the dawn ; but the Maoris had a word meaning dawn. On 
 the western side of the lofty chain from which these mountains rise, the Prince 
 Alfred glacier comes down into the forest as low as only 700 feet above the sea-level. 
 
 16. Ocean's wind flowers, sea anemones. 
 
 17. Haki Te KuRA. The Rev. J. W. Stack, in a paper on the "Traditional 
 History of South Island Maoris" (Transactions, New Zealand Institute, vol. x. pp. 
 33-4), tells the story of Haki Te Kura in the following words :— 
 
 " Tukiauau, who escaped with his son and a few followers, separated from the 
 main body of fugitives and went down to the Waihora Lake, where he built a pa. 
 While there, his son Koroki Whiti made the acquaintance of Haki Te Kura, the 
 daughter of a chief whose pa stood at the mouth of the Taiari. This maiden, un- 
 known to her friends, used to meet her lover on the sands when the tide was low, and 
 these clandestine meetings continued up to the time of Tukiauau's departure further 
 south, for hearing rumours of Ngai Tahu's movements he became alarmed and 
 determined to place himself beyond pursuit. Accordingly he abandoned his pa at 
 Waihora, and embarked with his followers in a large war canoe. As they were pass- 
 ing below her father's pa, Haki Te Kura, eager to join her lover, jumped off the cliff 
 into the water, but in doing so either fell upon a rock or the edge of the canoe, and 
 was killed. Tu Wiri Roa, overwhelmed with grief and rage, swore to destroy the 
 man who was the cause of his daughter's death. Waiting for a while to lull suspicion, 
 he followed in Tukiauau's wake, but could not for a long time discover his retreat, 
 which was at length betrayed by the smoke of a fire on the island of Rakiura. 
 Concealing himself behind some islets, he waited till a canoe manned by a large 
 number of persons came out to fish. 'When they had anchored, and their attention 
 was fixed on their lines, Tu Wiri Roa bore down upon them and cut off their 
 escape. Taken unawares, without their weapons, the crew were easily overpowered 
 and put to death, and all their companions on shore soon after shared their fate." 
 
 The scene of this story is in the vicinity of Dunedin, and the beautiful and romantic 
 gorge of the Taieri river is a favourite resort for pic-nic parties, for whose convenience 
 a steam launch now plies on the route taken by Koroki Whiti and his friends, and 
 the point known as the Maori's leap is pointed out by the boatmen. In the versifica- 
 tion of the tradition, the writer has adhered as closely as possible to the original 
 
 Pag-e 153.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 story, though it would have undoubtedly been a more dramatic ending to have 
 drowned Koroki at the same time as his lover. 
 
 i8. PiPis. Pipi is the native name for the cockle, a mollusc used by the Maoris 
 as food. 
 
 19. Frost Fish (Lepidopus caudatus) is esteemed the most delicious fish in New 
 Zealand. It is never caught either by line or net, but is cast up on sandy beaches on 
 cold frosty nights. Sir James Hector, in " Notes on the Edible fishes of New 
 Zealand," says, " Nothing is definitely known of the habits of this singular fish, or 
 why it should be cast up on the land." 
 
 20. Atua or Taipo. Atua is a spirit, Taipo an evil spirit. The former is the word 
 by which God is rendered in the Maori Bible, while the latter stands for the devil. 
 Atua, according to Mr Wohlers, means " anything incomprehensible from a ghost to 
 a piece of machinerj'." (N.Z. Institute Transactions, vol. viii. p. 112, note.) 
 
 21. The harsh-voiced cuckoo, or the long-tailed cuckoo of the settlers {Eudyn- 
 amis taitensis), is one of the few migratory birds which visit New Zealand. It has 
 brown plumage with bands and streaks of a rufous colour. Like its English name- 
 sake, it lays its eggs in the nests of other birds. Speaking of its habits, Duller says 
 " it is semi-nocturnal in its habits, and its long shrill cry at night is generally the 
 first intimation we get that it has arrived in the land. . . . This species is more 
 predatory in its habits than is usual with the members of this group. Lizards and 
 large insects form its principal diet ; but it also plunders the nests of other birds, 
 devouring alike the eggs and young." 
 
 22. PuKAKi, also called swamp-hen or pukeko {Poryphyrio melanotus), is a bird 
 not unlike the British water-hen (Gallinula Moropus), though a little larger and the 
 plumage is brighter, the feathers of the breast and neck being of an indigo blue. 
 
 23. Bell-uikd or iMOKO-MOKO {Antliomis jnclanura), is remarkable for the bell- 
 like sounds of many of its notes. Captain Cook, evidently referring to this bird, says, 
 " the ship lay at the distance of somewhat less than a quarter of a mile from the shore, 
 
 Page 1S4-
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 and in the morning we were awakened by the singing of the birds : the number was 
 incredible, and thej- seemed to strain their throats in emulation of each other. This 
 wild melody was infinitely superior to any that we had ever heard of the same kind ; 
 it seemed to be like small bells most exquisitely tuned, and perhaps the distance and 
 the water between might be no small advantage to the sound." (" The Voyages of 
 Captain James Cook." London : William Smith, 1S46, vol. i. p. 165.) 
 
 Unfortunately this fine songster is disappearing : it was much more numerous in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of Dunedin twenty-five years ago than it is now ; and 
 in the North Island the decrease has been much more marked. Sir Walter BuUer, 
 in his " History of the Birds of New Zealand," speaking of this bird, says : "this 
 species, formerly very plentiful in every part of the country, appears to be rapidly dying 
 out. From some districts, where a few years ago it was the commonest bird, it has now 
 entirely vanished." The cause of this decrease is unknown. It is a honey eater and 
 has the brush-like tongue possessed by such birds. This fact no doubt gave rise to 
 the Maori theory that the birds were killed by the bees introduced by the white men. 
 When the moko put his tongue into a flower to e.xtract the honey the bee already in 
 possession stung that member and caused the bird's death. Were the stings not to be 
 found in the tongue of any dead moko-moko ! It is doubtful if the more enlightened 
 theory of the settlers,— that the decrease of the species is due to the lessening of one 
 of the main sources of food supply, because of the introduced bee gathering the 
 honey,— is any more tenable than that of the ingenious native. But whatever the 
 cause the effect is certain. 
 
 24. Tree-ferns, of which there are several species, form a common object in New 
 Zealand sylvan scenery, but they are usually met with in the greatest beauty and 
 perfection in the gullies in the dense bush. They attain a height of from twelve to 
 eighteen feet, or even more, and the stems are frequently completely covered with 
 parasitic vegetation, consisting chiefly of the smaller species of hymenophythum, 
 trichomane-, and other small ferns, mos.ses, &c. 
 
 25. The Tui, or parson bird (Prosthemedera Novae Zeelandia), is about the size of 
 a British blackbird, and has plumage of a greenish-black with metallic reflections. 
 Its English name is derived from the fact of its having two tufts of white curly 
 feathers on the throat which are suggestive of a parson's bands. 
 
 Page 155.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 26. Native Wren is a name occasionally given to the grey warbler {Gerygone 
 /lavivcntris). Its song is a short plaintive warble of five notes repeated over and 
 
 over again. 
 
 27. Haere ra ! " Farewell I " if the person addressed be going. (Williams, " First 
 Lessons in Maori Language." Triibner, 1862.) 
 
 28. Hei Kona! "Farewell," if the person addressed be remaining. (Williams, ut 
 sup.). 
 
 29. Utu, revenge or satisfaction on the principle of blood for blood : also payment 
 in more modern times. 
 
 30. Mere, a short club. Those made of nephrite or greenstone are highly prized. 
 
 31. HiNEMOA. The story of the maid of Rotorua as here told, is the version given 
 in Sir George Grey's collection of Maori songs and legends, rendered in rhyme. It 
 has been the aim of the writer, while not adopting the ballad form, to tell the tale in 
 its original simplicity. No complete collection of Maori curios is without a flute, 
 made from a human bone, which has been satisfactorily identified as the very 
 instrument used by Tu Tanekai (the Tane of the poem). As the authenticity of the 
 flutes is unquestionable, the only solution of the apparent difficulty must be that 
 Tu Tanekai used a new flute every night while serenading Hinemoa. 
 
 32. Lament for Te Heu Heu. This is a paraphrase of an old Maori lament. 
 The chiefiain and. his followers were buried by a landslip which overwhelmed 
 their village in the night. 
 
 33. Hapu, a tribe or clan. 
 
 34. MoKO, the tattoo markings. 
 
 35. The Woman in the Moon. The legend here narrated was told to the writer 
 by a lady who, as the wife of a missionary, lived many years among the Maoris. 
 There are other versions of the legend to be met with, in which Rona is a man. The 
 moon is masculine in Maori. 
 
 Page 156.
 
 FAR SOUTH FANCIES. 
 
 36. Kaka {Nestor uieridionalis), a species of parrot which affords very good 
 eating. 
 
 37. KowHAi {Sophora ietraptera), a tree bearing a profusion of yellow pea-like 
 blossoms in the early spring. The native pigeons feed on the young leaves. 
 
 38. RiMU or red pine (Dacrydium Cupressimim), a valuable timber tree of pendu- 
 lous habit. The younger specimens are singularly graceful and pretty. 
 
 39. 'Prentice Pillar. The apprentice's pillar is a richly carved and highly 
 ornate column in Roslyn Chapel, Midlothian. The local tradition is that it was the 
 work of an apprentice sculptor during the absence of his master in Italy, and that 
 the latter on his return, moved by jealousy, killed his apprentice. 
 
 40. Bush robin (Peiroeca albifrojis), is a blackish-grey bird with a dingy white 
 b»east. " As the popular name implies, it is naturally a tame bird ; and in little fre- 
 quented parts of the country, it is so fearless and unsuspicious of man, that it will 
 approach within a yard of the traveller, and sometimes will even perch on his head or 
 shoulder." (Buller, " Birds of N.Z.") 
 
 41. More PORK is the name given by the Colonists to a species of owl (.4 ^^e«^ 
 Novae Zealandiae) from its cry resembling these words. 
 
 42. Maungatua is the name of a mountain which forms one of the boundaries of 
 the Taieri plain, a fertile tract of country nearDunedin. It is a compound word, and 
 means the mountain of the spirit. Maunga, a mountain, and atua, a spirit. {Vide 
 ante.) 
 
 43. Mapau {Myrsine urvillei), is the native name of a small tree, the leaves of 
 which have a reddish tinge. The same name is also applied to species oi Pittosporum^. 
 in some localities styled Matipo. The country settlers have corrupted the word 
 Mapau into Maple, to which tree it bears no resemblance. 
 
 44. Clematis (C. indivisa). This flower is one of the most strikingly pleasing 
 
 Page 157
 
 NOTES. 
 
 features of New Zealand sylvan scenery in spring, its white starlike flowers grow- 
 ing in large masses on the tops of the lower growing trees in the bush. 
 
 45. The Lark and other English song-birds alluded to, are some of those accli- 
 matised in the Colony. 
 
 46. Ei'PUR SI MUOVE, " and yet it moves."' This is a paraphrase of a passage from 
 ' ' Faith and the future," an essay by Joseph Mazzini. 
 
 47. Light. Suggested by a passage in "The Bird," by Jules Michelet. 
 
 PRINTED BY TUKNDULL AND SPEAKS, EDINBURGH. 
 X M.— G.— 39.
 
 BOOKS BY DOUGLAS SLADEN. 
 
 FRITHJOF AND INGEBJORG AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Published by Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., London. In green cloth boards, 5s. 
 
 " We read with pleasure the tale of ' Frithjof and Injebjorg,' and can recommend it 
 to our readers. A good tale well told, justifies publication." — TlielVcstinmster Revieiu. 
 
 " Even in the rough Hexameters of the American Poet (Longfellow), the story is 
 full of pathos and dignity ; but when wedded to Mr Sladen's tender and musical 
 words, it must charm all who read it." — Tke Glasgow Herald. 
 
 AUSTRALIAN LYRICS. 
 
 Second Edition, in parchment envelope, is. 
 
 " The best thing in the volume is undoubtedly 'The Squire's Brother,' a tale of 
 true love told in ringing measures ; but there is much more that will delight the 
 genuine lover of poetry." — The Graphic. 
 
 A POETRY OF EXILES. 
 
 Second Edition, in parchment envelope, is. 
 
 " With as much freshness of subject and ardour of feeling as characterised previous 
 productions, they have more variety of theme, and more of the kind of descriptive 
 writing which we want." — The Academy. 
 
 A SUMMER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 In green cloth boards, 6s. 
 
 " Mr Sladen tells his story in a vigorous Hudibrastic verse, and he relieves it by 
 stories from the lips of his friend. He does not claim that the work is a poem, but 
 only a novel in verse; but certainly such pieces as 'Odysseus in Scheria,' 'San 
 Sebastian,' which is dramatic in the most exacting sense of the word — and ' Sappho,' 
 which is truly lyrical, may lay claim to being poems in themselves, and, as interludes, 
 may lay claim to communicate something of poetic character and charm to the whole. 
 For ourselves, we have read the latter piece with real enjoyment and appreciation of 
 the music and delicate fancy which mark it. Many other portions of the volume 
 might well claim more exhaustive notice, such as we cannot now give it. But we 
 commend the volume to all who care for Chaucer-like presentment of character and 
 situation, for humour and sly satire, for imagination and real power of portraiture." — 
 British Quarterly Revieiu. 
 
 IN CORNWALL AND ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 In scarlet, black and white cloth boards, 6s. 
 
 "Mr Sladen pays a tribute to the memory of Lindsay Gordon, the 'Poet of 
 Victoria ' ; but that erratic and unfortunate genius left little behind him that is_ so 
 good as many parts of Mr Sladen's work. Taken altogether it gives him a high 
 claim to be considered the best poet that Australia has yet produced." — The Queen. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN & CO., LONDON AND SYDIJEY.
 
 In the " Canterbury Poets" Series. 
 AUSTRALIAN BALLADS AND RHYMES, is. 
 
 Walter Scott & Co., London ; \\'luttaker & Co., New York. 
 
 " The volume, as a whole, is one that we can strongly recommend to our readers, 
 and we heartily wish it success. ... An important contribution to our poetical 
 literature."— Z/Vfrrtry World. 
 
 " We hope this pleasant little volume may have the undoubted success it deserves. — 
 
 "The volume marks an epoch in English ve.rie."— Public Opinwi. [Academy. 
 
 " A very welcome addition to our stock of poetical anthologies. It has a value 
 both intrinsic and extrinsic." — Globe. 
 
 "The beautiful preface, written by Douglas B. W. Sladen, deserves transcribing 
 in full."— /'£■« and Pencil (Glasgow). 
 
 "Mr Sladen has been very happy in his choice"— Glasgo^u Herald. 
 
 "The selection is representative of the best poetrj' produced in recent years in 
 Australia." — Scotsman. , ,-„, 
 
 " Bids fair to become popular the world over. —The C/ir^/ (Glasgow). 
 
 " A verj' good collection of antipodal poetry." — The Graphic. 
 
 "Of the power, significance, and beauty of this collection I have not space to 
 speak. It is undoubtedly a volume whose contents will sink deep into the hearts of 
 all English-speaking peoples."— ^wr^/^aw Mail. 
 
 " Will be welcomed by every Australian who loves his native land." — Ausiraliau 
 Times. 
 
 In Walter Scott's ''Windsor" Series. 
 
 A CENTURY OF AUSTRALIAN SONG. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Walter Scott & Co., London ; WTiite & Allen, New York ; and published by 
 Griffith, Farran & Co., London and Sydney, N.S.W. Second Edition. 
 
 EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 
 
 On thick antique paper, in scarlet, black, and white parchment covers, 4s. 
 
 "A successful modern example of the old-fashioned stage-history in blank verse." 
 —Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 "The drama entitled 'Edward the Black Prince,' just published by Griffith & 
 Farran, places the author at once on a literary pedestal, of which his previous efforts 
 have given no conception. It is no exaggeration to say that his treatment of the 
 paladin of chivalry is masterly, his history perfect, and his stj'le unaffected yet 
 scholarly. The research shown in the volume is remarkable, and we cordially 
 recommend a close study of it to Mr Wilson Barrett at the earliest opportunity. 
 Cut down and compressed into a third of its present length, it would make an acting 
 drama of the rarest promise. It is not often that a reviewer reads through a volume 
 of this ethic blank verse to the bitter end ; yet we can conscientiously aver that we 
 not only have read it through, but regretfully found ourselves arriving at the last 
 page. Such books never sell ; the age deals not in nor appreciates such literary 
 gems ; but when the twenty-first century has dawned, and author and reviewer have 
 alike been resolved into the elements, posterity will ponder over the want of taste 
 displayed by the nineteenth centurj- in passing by unnoticed a work of such infinite 
 beauty, fire, pathos, and purity, and, above all, the compendious story of a reign 
 scamped by historians, and only kept alive by Froissart, to whom Mr Sladen 
 cordially acknowledges his indebtedness." — St Stephen's Review. 
 
 And just out. 
 
 AUSTRALIAN POETS. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Griffith, larran & Co., London and Sydney ; Cassell & Co., New York. 
 
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