Thy rise was as the morning, glorious, bright!
And error vanished like the affrighted dark; —
While many a soul, as the aspiring lark,
Waked by thy dawn, soared singing to the light,
Drowning in gladdest song the earth's despite!
And beauty blossomed in all lowly nooks —
Love, like a river made of nameless brooks,
Grew and exulted in thy wakening sight!
All nature hailed thee as a risen sun;
Nor will thy setting blur her thankful eyes!
While earth remains thy day shall not be done,
Nor cloud dispread to blot thy matchless skies!

Eternally without or blot, or staine,
During may you in memory remaine;
Making the teares be pearles, which men do weep,
O teaching them in their right ford to keep,
Not for the world to mourne, thence no reliefe
Doth then ensue, thy word doth mend our grieff .

Godly's the sorrow, whereto you exhorting
Require us, from the worldly care, dehorting,
In such a wife, that when this grieff we take,
Fairely grieff doth us mend and better make,
Fearing to sin this grieff in us doth breed,
Ensasing us thereby 'gainst sin at need:

'Tis a Dirge of Gloom
For an empty tomb
Where there's plenty of room
For the things that the War Cannot Kill!
( — — — the War!
As I said before:
— — ! — — — — !!**** !!! — — !
— — — — ***!!! — — I'm ill!)
But these Things that the War Cannot Kill:

The sights and the sounds as you go your rounds
In search of " trays " or in search of pounds,
In a city where beer and thirst abounds;
The sights that affright like the sudden sights
That bushmen see on recovery nights;
And the sudden sounds

Upon the Author's being accus'd of having wrote against Mrs . YEATES.

Some base designing — (down my Rage)
Has filch'd my Title to engage:
I write 'gainst Y EATES — forbid it Love,
Forbid it all ye Pow'rs above:
No, by my Life; full oft I've seen,
And ever prais'd that Goddess Mein;
Which with resistless Charms must sway,
Nay draws us from ourselves away:
Ill-fated Drury! curse the Hour,
That banish'd from thy Seat of Pow'r,
This peerless Fair: — Let Dancer strive,
To keep your glimm'ring Lamp alive,

All within and all without me
Feel a melancholy thrill;
And the darkness hangs about me,
Oh, how still;
To my feet, the river glideth
Through the shadow, sullen, dark;
On the stream the white moon rideth,
Like a barque—
And the linden leans above me,
Till I think some things there be
In this dreary world that love me,
Even me!

Gentle buds are blooming near me,
Shedding sweetest breath around;
Countless voices rise, to cheer me,
From the ground;
And the lone bird comes—I hear it
In the tall and windy pine

I got a letter the other day from a scribbling, sketching pal of mine,
In a foreign country, far away — somewhere out in the firing line.
It seems the censor won't let them say where they are bearing the battle's brunt,
So he dates, in the good Australian way, from " Some Old Place at the Blanky Front " .

He says it stinks, and he says it's Hell, and there seems no hope of earthly release:
But somehow the scream of a passing shell carries him back to the Days of Peace.
Where the soldiers howl in the camp at night, and the groaning and cursing wounded come,

My friends, the grape that charms the cup to-night,
Should be the noblest ever grown in cluster;
Our flowers of wit and song should be so bright,
That all the place should wear a noon-tide lustre.

For he whose natal day, and marvellous worth,
We strive to honor with our yearly presence,
Was of that clay so seldom found on earth,
On which the gods bestow their purest essence.

Ay, doubly bright should this ovation be;
For we are honored far beyond your dreaming,
The inward spirit bids me look and see,

Upon seeing Miss READ at Bath in the Character of R OSALIND in the Comedy of As you like it.

I.

Such a pleasing sweet Display,
Well demands a grateful Lay,
Fav'rite Muse assist the Strain,
Sing to Rosalinda's Fame!

II.

Elegance and sprightly Ease,
Ev'ry Charm combin'd to please,
Muse assist the flowing Verse,
Rosalinda's Praise rehearse.

III.

What attractive Grace appears,
Rapture to our Eyes and Ears;
Quitting Female Garb, you move
A perfect Ganymede in Love.

IV.

I dreamed I lay shot through and mutilated,
And buried in the trench we filled again,
And all the heaps above the loved and hated
Were levelled down and flattened by the rain.

I dreamed I saw the daily-paper posters,
I watched the Sydney people stand and stare —
The Blankers, By-Joves and the Holy-Ghosters;
The Well-I-Nevers and Just-Fancies fair —

To see " The Death of Henry Lawson " printed
In letters tall and black and fairly stout;
To read he died a hero, hear it hinted
That all his debts were paid — the Bill Wiped Out!

Gregory's learning, though a Pope he were,
Ever no shame it is at all to beare:
O then you sucke that fount, whence gratiously
Rightly came learning unto Gregory ;
Greatly you study that same sacred Law,
In Gregory that bred so great an awe,
Very well waying what in him was good,
Sucking that in, but leaving rotten food.

Choice learning in this worthy Prelate rested,
Ohe Romes Primacy full sore detested:
Know let the Papists then, not yet the luck
Ever they had Pope Gregory to Svcke .