Nationalism And M'Ilwraith! The Queensland Elections Cry, 1888.

Australia listened! Through the brawling game
    Of played-out rascals gambling for her gold,
    The rotten-hearted traitors who had sold
For flimsy English gauds her righteous fame -
Through the foul hubbub, it did seem, there came
    The still small voice of nobler things untold.
    But now, but now with wonder manifold
She hears a voice that calls her by her name!

Australia listens, as the mother wilt
    To hear her first-born cry. "Say, is it death,
Or life and all life's hope made audible
    That thrills my heart and gives my spirit faith?"
From out the gathering war-hosts leaps forth shrill
    The double cry, "Australia, M'Ilwraith!"

The dawn is breaking northward! Rise, O Sun,
    Australian Liberty, and give us light!
    And thou who through the dark and doubtful night
With great clear eyes of patience looking on
Even to that splendid hour REPUBLICAN,
    O know what things are with thee in the fight -
    What hope and trust, what truth, what right, what might
To never leave this work till it be done!
Not as these others were, the helpless slaves
    Of each diurnal need and cringing debt,
    Australia's statesman, have we known thee yet! -
The world's great heroes call from a thousand graves:
    "Thy land, a nation, cries to thee to be set
Free as the freedom of her ocean waves!"

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Francis William Lauderdale Adams (27 September 1862 – 4 September 1893) was an English writer, poet, dramatist, and social reformer. His literary work often reflected his radical socialist views. Adams lived a life marred by poverty and struggles with his health, eventually committing suicide at the age of 30. Despite his brief life, his contributions to literature and social thought remain significant.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

A Glimpse Of China. Over The Samovar. {69A}

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

Evening Hymn In The Hovels.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

At The India Docks. A Memory Of August, 1883.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

The Fisherman. (Mindanao, Philippines.)

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

English

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Australia Federata

Australia! land of lonely lake
And serpent-haunted fen;
Land of the torrent and the fire
And forest-sundered men:
Thou art not now as thou shalt be
When the stern invaders come,
In the hush before the hurricane,
The dread before the drum.

A louder thunder shall be heard
Than echoes on thy shore,
When oer the blackened basalt cliffs
The foreign cannon roar,
When the stand is made in the sheoaks shade
When heroes fall for thee,
And the creeks in gloomy gullies run
Dark crimson to the sea:

When under honeysuckles gray,
And wattles swaying gold,
The stalwart arm may strike no more,
The valiant heart is cold,
When thou shalt know the agony,
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Sydney Town In 91

Let us sing a song as not a
Solitary poet sings,
For our seething brain has got a
Mighty grip on earthly things;
We can feel the strength within us,
And our soul is bounding high,
And our hissing pen shall win us
Wealth and Beauty by-and-bye.

Listen to the thunder swelling
Till the mighty west vibrates!
Tis the horny-handed yelling
For the Labour candidates!
Hear the language of the frisky
Push assisting at the fun:
Liberty, and rum and whisky!
Sydney town in 91.

Whack the poor and cut a caper,
Turn the taps and shout wharroo!
For each Sydney leading paper
Has a candidate or two.
Every new one is an ember,
Lighting up this land of sin,
Clever little B, , k is member
For the Sydney Bulletin.

Wherefor...

Henry Lawson

The Australiad - (A poem for children.)

Twas brave De Quiros bent the knee before the King of Spain,
And sire, he said, I bring thy ships in safety home again
From seas unsailed of mariner in all the days of yore,
Where reefs and islets, insect-built, arise from oceans floor.
And, sire, the land we sought is found, its coasts lay full in view
When homeward bound, perforce, I sailed, at the bidding of my crew.
Terra Australis¹ called I it; and linked therewith the name
Of Him who guideth, as of old, in cloud and starry flame.
And grant me ships again, he said, and southward let me go,
A new Peru may wait thee there, another Mexico.

A threadbare suitor, year by year, There is a land, said he;
While King and Court grew weary of this old man of the sea;
For there were heretics to burn, and Hollan...

Mary Hannay Foott

A Story. (For The Irish Delegates In Australia.)

    Do you want to hear a story
    With a nobler praise than "glory,"
Of a man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like hell?
    Then, that story let me tell you
    Once again, though it as well you
Know as I - the splendid story of the man they call Parnell!

    By the wayside of the nations,
    Lashed with whips and execrations,
Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying, she, the Maiden Nation, lay;
    And the burthen of dishonour
    Weighed so grievously upon her
That her very children hid their eyes and crept in shame away.

    And there as she was lying
    Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying,
All her high-born foes came round her, fleering, jeering, as they said:
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Francis William Lauderdale Adams

A National Song For Australia Felix

Dark over the face of Nature sublime!
Reignd tyranny, warfare, and every crime;
The world a desertno oasis green
A man-loving soul on its surface had seen;
Then mercy above a mandate sent forth
An Eden to forma refuge for worth.
From the ocean it came, with halo so bright,
Want, strife, and oppression were lost in its sight.

                                        Chorus

    First isle of the seabrightest gem of the earth
    In thee every virtue and joy shall have birth.
    A land of the just, the brave, and the free,
    Australia the happy, thou ever shalt be.

So earth in the flood no place for rest gave,
At length a green isle arose from the wave;
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Andrew Barton Paterson

Eureka

Stand up, my young Australian,
In the brave light of the sun,
And hear how Freedom's battle
Was in the old days lost - and won.
The blood burns in my veins, boy,
As it did in years of yore,
Remembering Eureka,
And the men of 'Fifty-four.

The old times were the grand times,
And to me the Past appears
As rich as seas at sunset,
With its many-coloured years;
And like a lonely island
Aglow in sunset light,
One day stands out in splendour
The day of the Good Fight.

Where Ballarat the Golden
On her throne sits like a Queen,
Ten thousand tents were shining
In the brave days that have been.
There dwelt the stalwart diggers,
When our hearts with hope were high.
The stream of Life ran brimming
In that golden time gone by.

Victor James Daley