Cow’ring nearer, a young man asks,
“Tell us of the great First and Last?
Who was, and who is yet to come,
And why gaze we oft on setting sun?
“Why the burkas in silence meet,
Why in uncertain whispers speak.
In wild and lonely bushy creek,
And there enchanted words repeat?
For what the magic weapons use,
Why ourselves in warm blood suffuse,
Ord’ring women from th’ sacred place,
Tell us the myst’ries of our race?”
No! no! shouts the great Uwinda,
Rather tell us the tale of Inda,
And the famous hunter, Pilla,
And their deeds upon the Willa.
Crowding, then, around the wurley,
They listen to the tale of Purley,
Who in a measur’d tone begins,
Of the famous Kangarooing.
Carrying the fire-stick.
THE TALE OF PURLEY.
“In the long past, in days of yore,
Such days, alas! return no more!
Our tribe liv’d on the Wonga plain,
That stretches southward to the main.