We'll pluck the brilliant poppies, and the far-famed barley-corn,
To wreathe with bursting wheat-ears that outshine the saffron morn;
We'll crown it with a glowing heart, and pledge our fertile land,
The ploughshare of old England, and her sturdy peasant band!
The work it does is good and blest, and may be proudly told,
We see it in the teeming barns, and fields of waving gold:
Its metal is unsullied, no blood-stain lingers there;
God speed it well, and let it thrive unshackled everywhere.
The bark may rest upon the wave, the spear may gather dust,
But never may the prow that cuts the furrow lie and rust.
Fill up! fill up! with glowing heart, and pledge our fertile land,
The ploughshare of old England, and her sturdy peasant band.
THE STORY OF ABEL TASMAN.
(DISCOVERER OF TASMANIA.)
BY FRANCES S. LEWIN.
Bold and brave, and strong and stalwart,
Captain of a ship was he,
And his heart was proudly thrilling
With the dreams of chivalry.
One fair maiden, sweet though stately,
Lingered in his every dream,
Touching all his hopes of glory
With a brighter, nobler gleam.
Daughter of a haughty father,
Daughter of an ancient race,
Yet her wilful heart surrendered,
Conquered by his handsome face;
And she spent her days in looking
Out across the southern seas,
Picturing how his bark was carried
Onward by the favouring breeze.
Little wonder that she loved him,
Abel Tasman brave and tall;
Though the wealthy planters sought her,
He was dearer than them all.
Dearer still, because her father
Said to him, with distant pride,
"Darest thou, a simple captain,
Seek my daughter for thy bride?"
But at length the gallant seaman
Won himself an honoured name;
When again he met the maiden,
At her feet he laid his fame:
Said to her, "My country sends me,
Trusted with a high command,
With the 'Zeehan' and the 'Heemskirk,'
To explore the southern strand."