“Aloft a witto nods and bends,
And grace to every motion lends;
A long white bone adorns the nose,
While on the forehead—teeth in rows.
“With a well-tried shield and spear,
Wirri, and other war-like gear,
Kyahs, wommeras, and kuttas,
And the mystic Paityowattas.
“Well versed in all ancient curses,
Which, when one properly rehearses.
Neither bird, beast, nor fish escape,
But, unresisting, yield to fate.
“Bright was the sun that shone that day,
As the daring brothers bent their way;
Sounds lamentable rise on high,
Mingl’d with shouts that rend the sky.
“Then solitary, on they go,
Their progress mark—firm, stealthy, slow;
Eyes, like their steps, most firmly bent,
Both on the one great aim intent.
“Through heat and scrub, all that long day,
Till the last sun-beam died away;
Then on a dreary, stony height,
Repeat their charms, and camp the night.
“Just where glimmers th’ early dawn,
Loom’d grandly in the ruddy morn,
Mount Nilarro, so vast and gaunt,
The abyss of Kupirri’s haunt.
“Bald were its hoary sides, and steep
Its gullies, precipitous and deep;
A silent stream, from a hidden source,
Pursued its dark meand’ring course.
“Little they ate, they little said,
But on their way they quickly sped;
With eagle-glances scan the land,
And closely watch on either hand.
“Another night they try to rest
In vain—with horrid fears opprest;
For they in fancy often see
The Red Kangaroo, Kupirri!