At Coogee Bay.

Waikato Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1824, 15 March 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

At Coogee Bay.

Wixh eager feet fast hastening from the town, I've wandered towards thy sandy beach, 0 Sea 1 And while thy never-resting waves roll in and out, And breezes soft thy strong salt odours round me bear, I muse upon thy semblance to man's life. All calm thou art as on thee now I gaze, Thy wavelets ripple lazily and slowly ebb ; The gentle zephyr woes thee with a kiss, Disturbing not the rock-dust of thy marge, Nor moving c'en the sprays of feathery seaweed sprinkled there. Thou only art not still ; thy gentle restlessness seems perfect peace. So man, when strifes are o'er and foes subdued, reposes too, And soothes his soul to sleep and dreams of lasting bliss. Thou rat at peace with all 'gainst whom thou'rt wont to war, With all on whom, perchance, thou'lt soon make war again. Thou fearest nought from coming storms how sure so e'er they be ; The mighty tempests of the past have failed to trace One scar upon thy broad and placid bosom, wondrous Main ; And though storms may in many a time lo come, Lash thy great deep to wrath, and make thee roar and rage In furious indignation a? Thou roll'st thy mountain waves. In wild and fearful surges on this coast 'twill say to thee — " Thus far and nothing farther shalt thou come, 0 angry sea. 'Tis time to learn, great as thou art, there yet is One Who, greater far than thou, hast fixed thy bounds, Which, save He wills it, thou may'st never pass." And 'tis as vain for man, as thee, To war against divine decree. My present peace is but the calm that follows hard Upon the vanished footsteps of thy recent storms, With which not long ago this broken coast was In furious rage, wherewith thou'st wont to take revenge. Me seems 'tis in such halcyon days as these Thou'st gathering up thy mighty stores of wrath, With which thou'lt fearful vengeance shortly take once more On man and all his works, wherewith he needs must strive To check the ravages, and harness thee to do his puny will. So man doth leisure time employ In plotting how he may destroy. Oh, freedom's fittest emblem, everlasting mighty se«v I How oft hast thou to feel that man, though baffled oft, Is able yet to cope with such a foe as thou Hast ever been to him, and ever still must be? Yet, glorious sea, Say, who is he May fight with thee And fail to feel Thy wondrous power and majesty. 'Tis vain to look for scars upon thy bosom vast, Although for countless centuries past, 'Midst intervals of calm, in days like this, In mighty war Thou'st been engaged. With all thy shores Hast been enraged, And will be while those shores shall last. Aa fresh thou art as when, in old creation's prime, The Almighty Father marked thy bounds and , batle Thee keep within them— they more vast than earth itself.

On every shore, in narrow gulfs, in broadening inlets deep, Or sandy beaches strewn \utk countless grains Of stone thy never-tiring waters fret away — In rocks all honey- combed, and many a beetling cliff To shapeless ruin hurled, hast thou prepared thy monuments And writ the story old of thy resistless power. Thy struggle is for liberty, yet should'st thou know Thy freedom may ba never greater than it is. Thus man forever wars with mighty fate, _ And beats his troubled soul in pieces 'gainst the bars That still encompass him, however much to rage and fret. — Tristram. November 11, 1883.