GRIM PROPHECY
Sing me a song of the Avar to conic an'd luae your lay to the clash of arms, And strip yourselves of the sluime of life, and turn your i'aee from soft -women's charms. The time is come to he m'en—'and) gods. Ye "will need the best of your grand white blood. Would ye save your slumb'ring Commonwealth and stem the tide of the northern floodSee how the north skies darken low, and the north seas churn 'noath a hundred keels Of the herce-'faced mob of a mad Julian, with n raping rabble at her heels. Hark to his guns at your northern gate: '"He is come! He is 'come!" Ye have tarried long In deadly dalliance with chance and pal try play Avith the brainless throng. —From "Australia and Other Poems" by W. H. Elsums, published in 1912.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/BPB19420812.2.8
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Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 90, 12 August 1942, Page 2
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141GRIM PROPHECY Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 90, 12 August 1942, Page 2
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