#Australians
Scene I ‘Discontent’ LAURENCE RABY. Laurence: I said to young Allan M’Ilveray,
Hugo. Down drops the red sun; through th… They burst-raging waves of the sea… Foaming out their own shame-ever f… Their leprosy up with fierce glee;
Francesca Crush’d and throng’d are all the p… In our amphitheatre, ‘Midst a sea of swarming faces I can yet distinguish her ;
Oh! the sun rose on the lea, and t… And the steed stood ready harness’… And he left his lady’s bower, and… And he lifted cloak and weapon fro… ‘We were wed but yester-noon, must…
Though the pitcher that goes to th… Too oft gets broken at last, There are scores of others its pla… When its earth to the earth is cas… Keep that pitcher at home, let it…
When he, that shepherd false, 'nea… Carried his hostess Helen o’er th… In fitful slumber Nereus hush’d t… That he might sing their future de… A curse to your ancestral home you…
The maiden sat by the river side (The rippling water murmurs by), And sadly into the clear blue tide The salt tear fell from her clear… ‘ ’Tis fixed for better, for worse…
With short, sharp violent lights m… To the southward far as the sight… Only the swirl of the surges livid… The seas that climb and the surfs… Only the crag and the cliff to nor…
Oh! wind that whistles o’er thorns… Of this fruitful earth like a gobl… Why should he labour to help his n… Who feels too reckless to help him… The wail of the breeze in the bend…
The sword slew one in deadly strif… One perished by the bowl ; The third lies self-slain by the k… For three the bells may toll— I loved her better than my life,
Mark: So, Maurice, you sail to-morrow,… And you may or may not return? Be sociable, man! for once in a wa… Unless you’re too old to learn.
We severed in Autumn early, Ere the earth was torn by the plou… The wheat and the oats and the bar… Are ripe for the harvest now. We sunder’d one misty morning
Thou art moulded in marble impassi… False goddess, fair statue of stri… Yet standest on pedestal massive, A symbol and token of life. Thou art still, not with stillness…
Through the lattice rushes the sou… With fumes of the flowery frankinc… From hawthorn blossoming thickly ; And gold is shower’d on grass unsh… And poppy-fire on shuddering corn,
To beasts of the field, and fowls… And fish of the sea alike, Man’s hand is ever slow to spare, And ever ready to strike ; With a license to kill, and to wor…