Original Poetry.

Evening Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2278, 25 August 1870, Page 2

Original Poetry.

DUNEDIN. Dunedin, 0 Dunedin ! I|.ow Loautifiil art thou ; Thq ocean billows tyye'fchy feet The sun shines on thy brow.' Round promontories bending Par as the oj f e can reach, On every side extending Thy stately suburbs stretch ; Opposing, and closing On every side the scene, Are hills on hills reposing, With fertile vales between. Surrounding, and frowning, Wild mountains guard the bay ; Green woods their summits crowning To make the landscape gay. And on its waveh ss bosom The steamboat churns along, And craft in busy motion I s crowded jetties throng. The view then relieving The bay looks like a pond, Whilst with billows dark upheaving The ocean rolls beyond. How pleasantly, how pleasantly, Beneath the sun’s warm glow, Prom Breakneck’s lofty eminence The City looks below. O’er rugged situations Dunedin spreads away, With waving undulations It winds around the bay. —'What toiling and moiling, Is sounding underneath. What scheming and wiljng Within that i,tfmpaj,§ Ipfef. How wonderful, how wondorfiil, Where flax so lately grew, To sec so many noble piles And streets Stretch out in view. By every hill side shelving, Where lately grew the fern, Now pleasure grounds arc delving And cottages adorn. Still hewing and hoeing Till Nature must give place, And orchards now are growing Where Maories led the chase, Lfovy beautiful, hoy bearJifid, When darkness rqlies flic scene, And the starry vault bends overhead Without a cloud—serene, And shows the brilliant piasters That light the Milky Way, And every bright orb glisters Like silver in the bay. Whilst gleaming and beaming On every side on high, The hills with lights are teeming Like stars up in the sky. Dunedin, 0 Dunedin, With all my wanderings wide, To vie with thee I know one spot And only one, beside. Par, o’er yon waste of waters Whose white foam laves your shore

By the graves of my forefathers, a land I’ll see no more. ", -To me than, sweet Orinan, k i As it flows out Loch Fyue, ’ No fairer can I see then Like the scenes of Auld Langsyne T. F. Octbam.