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Though he rallied in the morning； long before the close of day
He had sunk； the worn…out hero； fainting； dying by the way！
But with Death he wrestled hardly； three times rising from the sod；
Yet a little further onward o'er the weary waste he trod。
Facing Fate with heart undaunted； still the chief would totter on
Till the evening closed about him … till the strength to move was gone；
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Then he penned his latest writings； and； before his life was spent；
Gave the records to his comrade … gave the watch he said was lent …
Gave them with his last commandments； charging him that night to stay
And to let him lie unburied when the soul had passed away。
Through that night he uttered little； rambling were the words he spoke：
And he turned and died in silence； when the tardy morning broke。
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell；
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well。
As those long hours glided past him； till the east with light was fraught；
Who may know the mournful secret … who can tell us what he thought？
Very lone and very wretched was the brave man left behind；
Wandering over leagues of waste…land； seeking； hoping help to find；
Sleeping in deserted wurleys； fearful many nightfalls through
Lest unfriendly hands should rob him of his hoard of wild nardoo。
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Ere he reached their old encampment … ere the well…known spot was gained；
Something nerved him … something whispered that his other chief remained。
So he searched for food to give him； trusting they might both survive
Till the aid so long expected from the cities should arrive；
So he searched for food and took it to the gunyah where he found
Silence broken by his footfalls … death and darkness on the ground。
Weak and wearied with his journey； there the lone survivor stooped；
And the disappointment bowed him and his heart with sadness drooped；
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And he rose and raked a hollow with his wasted； feeble hands；
Where he took and hid the hero； in the rushes and the sands；
But he； like a brother； laid him out of reach of wind and rain；
And for many days he sojourned near him on that wild…faced plain；
Whilst he stayed beside the ruin； whilst he lingered with the dead；
Oh！ he must have sat in shadow； gloomy as the tears he shed。
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Where our noble Burke was lying … where his sad companion stood；
Came the natives of the forest … came the wild men of the wood；
Down they looked； and saw the stranger … he who there in quiet slept …
Down they knelt； and o'er the chieftain bitterly they moaned and wept：
Bitterly they mourned to see him all uncovered to the blast …
All uncovered to the tempest as it wailed and whistled past；
And they shrouded him with bushes； so in death that he might lie；
Like a warrior of their nation； sheltered from the stormy sky。
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Ye must rise and sing their praises； O ye bards with souls of fire；
For the people's voice shall echo through the wailings of your lyre；
And we'll welcome back their comrade； though our eyes with tears be blind
At the thoughts of promise perished； and the shadow left behind；
Now the leaves are bleaching round them … now the gales above them glide；
But the end was all accomplished； and their fame is far and wide。
Though this fadeless glory cannot hide a grateful nation's grief；
And their laurels have been blended with the gloomy cypress leaf。
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Let them rest where they have laboured！ but； my country； mourn and moan；
We must build with human sorrow grander monuments than stone。
Let them rest； for oh！ remember； that in long hereafter time
Sons of Science oft shall wander o'er that solitary clime！
Cities bright shall rise about it； Age and Beauty there shall stray；
And the fathers of the people； pointing to the graves； shall say：
‘‘Here they fell； the glorious martyrs！ when these plains were woodlands deep；
Here a friend； a brother； laid them； here the wild men came to weep。''
LURLINE
（Inscribed to Madame Lucy Escott。）
AS you glided and glided before us that time；
A mystical； magical maiden；
We fancied we looked on a face from the clime
Where the poets have builded their Aidenn！
And oh； the sweet shadows！ And oh； the warm gleams
Which lay on the land of our beautiful dreams；
While we walked by the margins of musical streams
And heard your wild warbling around us！
We forgot what we were when we stood with the trees
Near the banks of those silvery waters；
As ever in fragments they came on the breeze；
The songs of old Rhine and his daughters！
And then you would pass with those radiant eyes
Which flashed like a light in the tropical skies …
And ah！ the bright thoughts that would sparkle and rise
While we heard your wild warbling around us。
Will you ever fly back to this city of ours
With your harp and your voice and your beauty？
God knows we rejoice when we meet with such flowers
On the hard road of Life and of Duty！
Oh！ come as you did； with that face and that tone；
For we wistfully look to the hours which have flown；
And long for a glimpse of the gladness that shone
When we heard your wild warbling around us。
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UNDER THE FIGTREE
LIKE drifts of balm from cedared glens； those darling memories come；
With soft low songs； and dear old tales； familiar to our home。
Then breathe again that faint refrain； so tender； sad； and true；
My soul turns round with listening eyes unto the harp and you！
The fragments of a broken Past are floating down the tide；
And she comes gleaming through the dark； my love； my life； my bride！
Oh！ sit and sing … I know her well； that phantom deadly fair
With large surprise； and sudden sighs； and streaming midnight hair！
I know her well； for face to face we stood amongst the sheaves；
Our voices mingling with a mist of music in the leaves！
I know her well； for hand in hand we walked beside the sea；
And heard the huddling waters boom beneath this old Figtree。
God help the man that goes abroad amongst the windy pines；
And wanders； like a gloomy bat； where never morning shines！
That steals about amidst the rout of broken stones and graves；
When round the cliffs the merry skiffs go scudding through the waves；
When； down the bay； the children play； and scamper on the sand；
And Life and Mirth illume the Earth； and Beauty fills the Land！
God help the man！ He only hears and fears the sleepless cries
Of smitten Love … of homeless Love and moaning Memories。
Oh！ when a rhyme of olden time is sung by one so dear；
I feel again the sweetest pain I've known for many a year；
And from a deep； dull sea of sleep faint fancies come to me；
And I forget how lone we sit beneath this old Figtree。
DROWNED AT SEA
GLOOMY cliffs； so worn and wasted with the washing of the waves；
Are ye not like giant tombstones round those lonely ocean graves？
Are ye not the sad memorials； telling of a mighty grief …
Da