Page 1 Advertisements Column 1

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 8, Issue 454, 27 December 1866, Page 1

Original Hires luaaisixn bt a Visit to the Scene or the late Gallant Piqht at Pet an e, Hawke’s Bat, 12th Octobeb, 1858. PEUE, by fair Petane’s winding stream. By twilight still 1 love to dream Of those who faced the foe; Who, foremost in their country’s right, Exulting came forth to the fight, And laid the Hau-haus low. E’en here, with nought to intervene^ I gaze upon the fatal scene With patriotic pride. Arrested in their fierce career. Death overtook the rebels here, Surrounded here they died. Beneath the bright stars’ scintillation, How musing in sad contemplation, Emotion swells my breast. Here, gory stains still dye the ground. There, blood-stained garments strewed around. Attest the slain at rest. Swells on the breeze, like funeral dirge. The echoes of the distant surge. And, as they die away. Stern memories they still bequeath Of slaughtered savages beneath. And that triumphant day, Bather Supreme! to Thee we turn. With gratitude our bosoms bum; Thy goodness here we see. Who, for Thine all-sufficient ends, Sectored to us our gallant friends, Enwreathed with victory. Brave little hand! Intrepid few t Who paid our debt of vengeance due. Tour worth our hearts embalm. Deceive a grateful people's praise, By you more prized than flaunting hays, The laurel and the palm. i. H, Petane. "OUB, VALLEY." ©IS through the vale I wend my way. The rifle's crack afar, Proclaims our plucky Volunteers Are with the pigs at war. Such warlike language greets my ears, Unused to martial talk. The very air seems nlled with bomb]. Whene’er 1 take a walk. The thoughts of plunder still prevail And deep has taken root The notion that we alt should go And make a " pile” by loot. E’en those too old to wield a gun. Too worn-out far to flght. Crawl forth to pull the whams down. And loot the pa by night. And thus it comes that eveiy day. Each, man I come across Enquires of me in doleful mood, " Pray, have you seen my horse?" One painful thought invades my mind. And dwells for ever there; Perchance the horse I ride may prove Gome white man's looted mare. Should Hau-hau foes again appear. Who knows what may befall ? Th’ impression seems to be that We Shall kill and eat them all, . We hope in time to do without The aid of sun or moon. Already we have “ gas” enough To fill a large balloon. Our school, too, is deserted quite, Our pedagogue gone out; And little else we do Just now, But nohhlerise and spout. J. H., Petane. let November, 1860. A TEIBTJTE FBOM AN ADMIEEB. fITO case our grateful souls’ o’erflow, (Since bursting hearts must find vent) Low on our marrow-bones we fall. And laud our Superintendent. To save our " pelts” what mighty sums On cannibals be hath spent, Per countless feeds of ifllipee” They praise our Superintendent. To make us filibusters all. This matchless man is now bent. Auckland to Hawke’s Bay he’ll annex—- , Our potent Superintendent t To butter both sides of his econa O, Donald he hath weel kent. With rosy gills aud rubicund. Behold our Superintendent. Omaraaul gave renown, Petane’s bold sons have fame lent, To crown his name and celebrate Our martial Superintendent. Illustrious chief! who pays to well Those who both time and bicod spent, Be sure our memories revere Our grateful Superintendent. And O, of Hau-haus be aware. Who boast, and mean fulfilment. They’ll taka thy moko, and tattoo Our wool-kings’ Superintendent. To guard thy well-won fame he sure It is thy slave’s firm Intent To sptfUeote all those who ehnff Our M«ast Superintendent,