songs from the mountains-第12章
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Too sore to cock up； reader！ …
A four…legged hero； full of years；
But sturdy as a cedar。
Page： 174
Still； age is age； and if my rhyme
Is dashed with words pathetic；
Don't wonder； friend； I've seen the time
When Rove was more athletic。
He lies coiled up before me now；
A comfortable crescent。
His night…black nose and grizzled brow
Fixed in a fashion pleasant。
But ever and anon he lifts
The one good eye I mention；
And tries a thousand doggish shifts
To rivet my attention。
Just let me name his name； and up
You'll see him start and patter
Towards me； like a six…months' pup
In point of speed； but fatter。
Page： 175
He pokes his head upon my lap；
Nor heeds the whip above him；
Because he knows； the dear old chap；
His human friends all love him。
Our younger dogs cut off from hence
At sight of lash uplifted；
But Rove； with grand indifference；
Remains； and can't be shifted。
And； ah！ the set upon his phiz
At meals defies expression；
For I confess that Rover is
A cadger by profession。
The lesser favourites of the place
At dinner keep their distance；
But by my chair one grizzled face
Begs on with brave persistence。
Page： 176
His jaws present a toothless sight；
But still my hearty hero
Can satisfy an appetite
Which brings a bone to zero。
And while Spot barks and pussy mews；
To move the cook's compassion；
He takes his after…dinner snooze
In genuine biped fashion。
In fact； in this； our ancient pet
So hits off human nature；
That I at times almost forget
He's but a dog in feature。
Between his tail and bright old eye
The swift communications
Outstrip the messages which fly
From telegraphic stations。
Page： 177
And； ah！ that tail's rich eloquence
Conveys too clear a moral；
For men who have a grain of sense
About its drift to quarrel。
At night； his voice is only heard
When it is wanted badly；
For Rover is too cute a bird
To follow shadows madly。
The pup and Carlo in the dark
Will start at crickets chirring；
But when we hear the old dog bark
We know there's something stirring。
He knows a gun； does Rover here；
And if I cock a trigger；
He makes himself from tail to ear
An admirable figure。
Page： 178
For； once the fowling piece is out；
And game is on the tapis；
The set upon my hero's snout
Would make a cockle happy。
And as for horses； why； betwixt
Our chestnut mare and Rover
The mutual friendship is as fixed
As any love of lover。
And when his master's hand resigns
The bridle for the paddle；
His dogship on the grass reclines；
And stays and minds the saddle。
Of other friends he has no lack；
Grey pussy is his crony；
And kittens mount upon his back；
As youngsters mount a pony。
Page： 179
They talk of man's superior sense；
And charge the few with treason
Who think a dog's intelligence
Is very like our reason。
But though Philosophy has tried
A score of definitions；
'Twixt man and dog it can't decide
The relative positions。
And I believe upon the whole
（Though you my creed deny； sir）；
That Rove's entitled to a soul
As much as you or I； sir！
Indeed； I fail to see the force
Of your derisive laughter
Because I will not say my horse
Has not some horse…hereafter。
Page： 180
A fig for dogmas … let them pass！
There's much in life to grieve us；
And what most grieves is this； alas！
That all our best friends leave us。
And when I sip my nightly grog；
And watch old Rover blinking；
This royal ruin of a dog
Calls forth some serious thinking。
For； though he's lightly touched by Fate；
I cannot help remarking
The step of age is in his gait；
Its hoarseness in his barking。
He still goes on his rounds at night
To keep off forest prowlers；
But； ah！ he has no teeth to bite
The cunning…hearted howlers。
Page： 181
Not like the Rover that； erewhile；
Gave droves of dingoes battle；
And dashed through flood and fierce defile …
The friend； but dread； of cattle。
Not like to him that； in past years；
Won fight by fight； and scattered
Whole tribes of dogs with rags of ears
And tail…ends torn and tattered。
But while time tells upon our pet；
And makes him greyer daily；
He is a noble fellow yet；
And wears his old age gaily。
Still； dogs must die； and in the end；
When he is past caressing；
We'll mourn him like some human friend
Whose presence was a blessing。
Page： 182
Till then； be bread and peace his lot …
A life of calm and clover！
The pup may sleep outside with Spot …
We'll keep the nook for Rover。
Page： 183
THE MELBOURNE INTERNATIONAL
EXHIBITION
WRITTEN FOR MUSIC
I。
BROTHERS from far…away lands；
Sons of the fathers of fame；
Here are our hearts and our hands …
This is our song of acclaim。
Lords from magnificent zones；
Shores of superlative sway；
Awful with lustre of thrones；
This is our greeting to…day。
Page： 184
Europe and Asia are here …
Shining they enter our ports！
She that is half of the sphere
Beams like a sun in our courts。
Children of elders whose day
Shone to the planet's white ends；
Meet； in the noble old way；
Sons of your forefather's friends。
II。
Dressed is the beautiful city … the spires of it
Burn in the firmament stately and still；
Forest has vanished … the wood and the lyres of it；
Lutes of the sea…wind and harps of the hill。
This is the region； and here is the bay by it；
Collins； the deathless； beheld in a dream：
Flinders and Fawkner； our forefathers grey； by it
Paused in the hush of a season supreme。
Page： 185
Here； on the waters of majesty near to us；
Lingered the leaders by towers of flame：
Elders who turn from the lordly old year to us
Crowned with the lights of ineffable fame。
III。
Nine and seventy years ago；
Up the blaze of yonder bay；
On a great exalted day；
Came from seas august with snow …
Waters where the whirlwinds blow …
First of England's sons who stood
By the deep green； bygone wood
Where the wild song used to flow
Nine and seventy years ago。
Five and forty years ago；
On a grand auspicious morn
Page： 186
When the South Wind blew his horn；
Where the splendid mountains glow …
Peaks that God and Sunrise know …
Came the fearless； famous band；
Founders of our radiant land；
From the lawns where roses grow；
Five and forty years ago。
IV。
By gracious slopes of fair green hills；
In shadows cool and deep；
Where floats the psalm of many rills；
The noble elders sleep。
But while their children's children last；
While seed from seedling springs；
The print and perfume of their past
Will be as deathless things。
Page： 187
Their voices are with vanished years；
With other days and hours；
Their homes are sanctified by tears …
They sleep amongst the flowers。
They do not walk by street or stream；
Or tread by grove or shore；
But； in the nation's highest dream；
They shine for evermore。
V。
By lawny slope and lucent strand
Are singing flags of every land；
On streams of splendour … bays impearled …
The keels are here of all the world。
With lutes of light and cymbals clear
We waft goodwill to every sphere。
The links of love to…day are thrown
From sea to sea … from zone to zone；
Page： 188
And； lo！ we greet； in glory drest；
The lords that come from east and west；
And march like noble children forth
To meet our fathers from the North！
VI。
To Thee be the glory； All…Bountiful Giver！
The song that we sing is an anthem to Thee；
Whose blessing is shed on Thy people for ever；
Whose love is like beautiful light on the sea。
Behold； with high sense of Thy mercy unsleeping；
We come to Thee； kneel to Thee； praise Thee； and pray；
O Lord； in whose hand is the strength that is keeping
The storm from the wave and the night from the day！
Page： 189
BY THE CLIFFS OF THE SEA
IN MEMORY OF SAMUEL BENNETT
IN a far…away glen of the hills；
Where the bird of the night is at rest；
Shut in from the thunder that fills
The fog…hidden caves of the west …
In a sound of the leaf； and the lute
Of the wind on the quiet lagoon；
I stand； like a worshipper； mute
In the flow of a marvellous tune！
And the song that is sweet to my sense
‘‘Is； ‘‘Nearer； my God； unto Thee；''
But it carries me sorrowing hence；
To a grave by the cliffs of the sea。
Page： 190
So many have gone that I loved …
So few of the fathers remain；
That where in old seasons I moved
I could never be happy again。
In the breaks of this beautiful psalm；
With its deep； its devotional tone；
And hints of ineffable calm；
I feel like a stranger； alone。
No wonder my eyes are so dim …
Your trouble is heavy on me；
O widow and daughter of him
Who sleeps in the grave by the sea！
The years have been hard that have pressed
On a head full of premature grey；
Since Stenhouse went down to his rest；
And Harpur was taken away。
Page： 191
In the soft yellow evening…ends；
The wind of the water is faint
By the home of the last of my friends …
The shrine of the father and saint。
The tenderness touching … the grace
Of Ridley no more is for me；
And flowers have hidden the face
Of the brother who sleeps by the sea。
The vehement voice of the South
Is loud where the journalist lies；
But calm hath encompassed his mouth；
And sweet is the peace in his eyes。
Called hence by the Power who knows
When the work of a hero is done；
He turned at the message； and rose
With the harness of
