A TRIBUTE TO THE COMPENSATION CAUSE.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume 1, Issue 26, 12 February 1873, Page 2

A TRIBUTE TO THE COMPENSATION CAUSE.

SVA N days of yore, as I have read, in each aud ifl either zone; Where’er Britannia’s banner waved, her might and honor shone. On Agincourt and Creasy's plains, at Wcntaim too the same, And thousands more, as deep in gore, was blazon’d Britain’s name. Hint but an insult to that flag, her sons were all on fire, To hoist their glorious banner high, and blazon it still higher; God and St. George their battle cry, and with it fierce advance, Like lightning flashed their swords on high, quick pierced the quiv’ring lance. But now, alas! may Britons mourn, and mourn till they expire, To see that ancient, glorious flag, so trampled in the mire. When Rome resigned her mighty power, ’twos to a mighty host; Myriads of armed men, and hone, swarmed o’er her fertile coast. But here, a paltiy savage band, half human, and half brute; The gauntlet throws in Britain’s face, her might and right dispute: Her banner’s torn to deck their chiefs, while loud the rabble cry, For sugar, cash, and rice, and slops; deliver* tis , or die. And Britain cowed at their demand, produces the supply; Enslaves her sons, to feed their foes, who kneel while they defy: Sends pettifogging agents forth, th’ imposture to adorn, Invest base wrong with royal right, and bring our laws to scorn. To filch the last remaining coin, from the poor settler’s purse Thus make the plundered pay the fine, the robber runs his course: To coax the murderer with bribes, to cease his wholesale riot; Luxuriate at public cost, and murder on the ?uict: ast grand dodge, with honor crowned and royal medals three, To tob and murder loyal men, and set all traitors free: To crown at once this monstrous farce and suit each rogues desire, Let royal medal deck each thief, and dub each villian ’squire. Let but a maudlin babe of grata, scratch its vile tawny skin; The ’re crumbs of oomfort at command, the darling’s health to win. A Maori moll may lose her mate, by Maori rot, or fever, A pension from the Treasury chest, dries up her tears for ever. Or let a demon Han-han sheath his infant-blood-stained sword, Choice raiment decks his tawny hide, and tainties dock his board. But British victims of this farce, of every comfort shorn, ; 7 May starring weep for murdered friends, and kindred horrors mourn: In retrospective sadness view, polluted with their gore, Their blooming happy homesteads once; a home for them no more. The mutilated forms of age, the orphan’s piteous ciy, The widow left to mourn her lose, and weep her sorrows dry: At blowing beauty crushed and torn, beneath the savage blow, And blazing far and wide around a holocaust of woes Yea horrors worse, demoniac, which did I here rehearse; Would draw forth sympathetic tears, and .a paralyse my verse. ’Te Kooti’s inhumanity, was mercy in full bloom, Compared to what our Government, assign us as our doom; His victims were unkindly stripped, then mercifully slain, Ending in mercy at one blow, their worldly care and pain. We plundered were, by qsuul friends, reviled by passers by; Then left to starve, and linger on, desponding tillwedie: Die fifty deaths in five long years! ’tis mercy more to slay; Than feed on fragile promises, and starve our Cavil ye sneering critics, at language used so strong: Cavil ye may, but can’t refute, the moral of my song. \ ; How vile! how sinful is such rule! with mis’ry such the cost; How brutal too, to living death, oemsign a ruined host: Curses will rest on such base rule, and such vile pgliqy, Which galls a Briton with its chains, to set tta savage free. . “ O, for a forty-parson power,” to execrate such wrohg; Or tint some high and mighty Bard, would blazon it in song. Such Bardo seek more enchanting themes whence feme or profit flows; On which their sowing fancy, wild, effulgent • radiance throws. "fis left for my poor feeble muse, to murmur in her song; That sordid pity in our cause, adds insult to our wrong. Perhaps our griefs are yet unknown > porehanoe the public spy, Intent to note the Maori whine, pasdsd tmr great sorrows by. In charity we hope ’tis so,then fromourpiteous case.

V il! vanish inhumanity, and sympathy take Our Rulers then let us address, from whom such bletsings flow i • lo those who wrought our diurnal doom, and still insult our wo#: Perchance some good Samaritan, among that August throng; May raise aloud a Christian voice, to restitute our wrong: That though the Maori is, and will be, their especial care: let, of the crumbles from their feasts, we may partake a share. “ Thrice is he armed, whose quarrel’s just,” thrice valiant in the fight; Against all those, who to their shame, with might would smothes’right. ’lis not as grovelling paupers that, our Rulers now we sue: We claim but justice at their hands, a debt to us long due. That they redeem a promise given; evade which, or deny; At once brand honor with disgrace, and raise dishonor high. A promise by our rulers given, the fruit withheld so long, Which makes our cause so righteous, and our appeal so strong; But if our loud appeal should fail, as fail perhaps it may, Bereft of hope by human means, then let us humbly pray. O, Lord of Hosts! maintain our cause, Thy - means bring forth Thine ends: O, enervate our open foes, and “save us from our friends! ” W. J. Waltebs. Tutoko, January 1873.