Toll, ocean, toll thy melancholy dirge!
Hard fought that gallant ship with foaming surge;
Ere morning broke, scarce was there left a trace—
Youth, beauty, all clasped in thy cold embrace.
Gone like a dream! dear eyes and gleaming hair,
And Queensland’s noble manhood with a prayer
Laid on their lips, now cold and still, and dumb,
All their last thoughts of God and home, sweet home.
Oh, avalanche of grief! see Austral weep
For those, her sacred dead, who calmly sleep
Inside the Barrier Reef, on coral bed.
* * * * *
Mourn, Austral, mourn! our country’s heart stands still!
E’en though rebellious, kneel we to His will.
Mourn for the beautiful, who, in the bloom
Of life and health, were destined for the tomb!
Roll on, remorseless and resistless waves,
Incline the mourner’s ear to Him who saves,
And at the fiat “Time shall no more be,”
May thou restore our dead to us, O Sea.
“THE KING”
Australia’s flag floats on the breeze,
On this the Coronation day.
From torrid zones to zones that freeze,
Old England still doth wield her sway.
So to our King with loyal hearts
We lift our loving cup and say
“Be as thy sire—a man of parts—
In the great drama thou must play.”
He hath not asked to be a King;
The destinies decreed it so.
Then forth the royal mantle bring,
And press the crown on regal brow!
Australia with her pride of race;
The younger Empire’s daughter fair—
The sea-king’s child of gentle face—
Noble and strong to do and dare.
Whose ties of blood far stronger are
Cementing freedom’s civil rights
Than bands of steel or iron bar—
A constitution strong in might—
Swears her allegiance to thy throne,
And sacred person by the sign
Of her own virtue, fervent grown,
In love of liberty divine.
A race distinctive she hath bred,
Offspring of high unsullied name;
And down the centuries her tread
Shall never bend to servile fame.
Her sons, within her ramparts grim,
Watch in her rocky coat of mail;
Chivalrous, strong and lithe of limb—
Ready, should foe their land assail.