“In all good things they richly shar’d,
Sumptuously on dainties far’d;
With bursting nets of game and fish,
In implements surpassing rich.
“We were, of all, the greatest tribe
That in the North or West reside;
Our dire enchantments never fail’d,
Northern sorcerers ’ fore them quail’d.
“Victors in ev’ry hunt and battle,
’Twas enough our spears to rattle;
Our enemies would fly apace,
Though rarely winners in the race.
“But though so powerful and great,
We dwindled at a rapid rate;
For hunting when the tribe would go,
There would be missing one or so.
“Suggest, could none of us a cause,
Whereby this sad mysterious loss
Could be explain’d, or could be trac’d,
For death had doom’d our noble race.
“It was resolv’d, before too late,
A gen’ral hunting match to make;
The scrub, and swamps, and plains to scour,
To find the foe, or magic power.
“Everywhere searching, left and right,
Till Nilarro appear’d in sight;
When lo! a monster on them springs,
Four men to ground he quickly brings.
“The unnatural creature, then,
Instead of grass ate up the men!
They lift no spear, they lift no wirri,
Powerless before Kupirri.
“Behold! like burnt sticks in a row,
By’s tail he fells them with a blow!
Enrag’d, he lashes it about,
And quickly puts them to the rout!
“Homeward they rush, nor look behind,
Frighten’d at e’en the rustling wind;
Frighten’d at the grass-tree stump,
Frighten’d at every stone and lump.