THEN—AND NOW

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XLV, Issue XLV, 8 June 1917, Page 1

THEN—AND NOW

A REMARKABLE POEM.' A correspondent of the 'Sydney llornin< Herald writes: '• In an old copy of the ' Eni pire", dated Sydney, April 15, 1854, I founc verses which have a peculiar interest for u: to-clay. I wonder who wrote them." The-' are subjoined:— ; ■ . • TO THE AUSTRALLVNS. Sons of the fair and wondrous lands, W hose rivers gush o'er golden sands, Whose rocks are veined with gold • Where 'neath a blue and cloudless sky Glad mature yields to Industry Her treasures yet untold! Awake!—A voice borne on the blast "The reign of Peac» is past!" lfi past! perchance for aye. "The hour is come! Our Parent LandEngland—has drawn the battle brand, And hurled the sheath away! While sternly whispers every gale Of nations buckling on their mail And plunging in the fray! The Danube's banks are red with b.'bod— The Danube rolls a crimson flood ', Down to the dark Eujrine/ v And mournfully the billows sweep, At Siuope, around the steep Where slaughtered Moslem heroes sleep In thousands neath the brine. Sow 'gainst the Tyrant of the T orth Her fiery legions Uaul sends forth, England her gallant sons. And as they meet, in deadly fight, Qtyie myriads of the Muscovite, Sevastopol hears, with affright, i The thunder of their guns! That sound is heard on Hungary's plains; The Magyar strives to burst his chains: The brave but hapless Pole Looks up to Heav'n with mute appealWrithes 'neath the Despot's iron heel, As if he, too, at last could feel Hope brightening hi his soul! While, as thro' Nature's sudden act, A lake, pent in some mountain tract, Might burst in one vast cataract Upon the vales below! From their wild homes, assailed tor years Circassia's dauntless mountaineers Rush down upon the foe! O'er barren steppe and trackless plain, Madly athirst for blood and gain, The savage Cossack rides; With fierce houra! and brandished lance. On, on, the modern Huns advance, Like ocean's rolling tides. They come,, they come—where carnag frowns, O'er ruined hearths—where burning towi Illume .the midnight sky! Where Islam's sons—a scanty host— Make desp'rate stand— tho ,( : all were lost Remaining still to die. Sons of the South, awake, arise! Security in action lies, While death attends delay; And he who, tempting adverse fal c, All unprepared, doth rashly wait Until the foemau storm the gate, , Will surely lose the day. Sons of the South! Has lust of gold Quenched all that warmed our sires of ol And thrilled each burning vein? When, sheathed in mail, with lance in res Or foot to foot, and breast to breast, They swept o'er many a tyrant's crestHurled—humbled—on the plain! Sons of the South! will ye disgrace The annals of that mighty race Whose glorious flag unfurled Tale despots view with quailing eye,' And crouch, while thunders to the sky The Anglo-Saxon's battle-cry Of "Freedom for the world!"' Sons of the South! It cannot be That, courting shame and infamy, The coming strife ye shun!

Why pause ye now? The hour is righ • Ay, look around and look, on high. If cowards dwell beneath- that sky, Or slaves beneath that sun— ' Then burst, ye fountains of the deep'!. Thou vast Pacific, rise and sweep The dastards from their hold. Better the. silence of the wave, In central ocean's deepest cave, Than shameful life, scorned by the brave; Than chains, altho' of gold! To arms! To arms! Each patriot band! The spoiler seeks your native strand! His ships are on the foam. In freedom's cause who dreads the e rav e? God's curse 'light on the coward slave Who dares not strike one blow to save His country and his home!