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Poison with the falling dews,
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air,-
Gone, gone,- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamps dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,-
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,

To the rice-swamps dank and lone. There no mother's eye is near them, There no mother's ear can hear them;

Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash,
Shall a mother's kindness bless them;
Or a mother's arms caress them.

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,

To the rice-swamps dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,-
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,

To the rice-swamps dank and lone.
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play,-

From the cool spring where they drank,

Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank,-
From the solemn house of prayer,

And the holy counsels there,

.

Gone, gone,-sold and gone,
To the rice-swamps dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,—
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamps dank and lone. Toiling through the weary day,

And at night the spoilers prey.

O that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er,
And the fetter galls no more!

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamps dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,-
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,

To the rice-swamps dank and lone.

By the holy love he beareth,-
By the bruised reed he spareth,-
O, may He, to whom alone
All the cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.

Gone, gone,- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamps dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,-
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

AN ABORIGINAL MOTHER'S LAMENT

BY CHARLES HARPUR

Still farther would I fly, my child,
To make thee safer yet,
From the unsparing white man,

With his dread hand murder-wet!
I'll bear thee on as I have borne
With stealthy steps wind-fleet,
But the dark night shrouds the forest,
And thorns are in my feet.

O moan not! I would give this braid -
Thy father's gift to me -

But for a single palmful
Of water now for thee.

Ah! spring not to his name

To glad us may he come He is smoldering into ashes Beneath the blasted gum:

no more

All charred and blasted by the fire
The white man kindled there,
And fed with our slaughtered kindred
Till heaven-high went its glare!

And but for thee, I would their fire
Had eaten me as fast!

Hark! Hark! I hear his death-cry

Yet lengthening up the blast!

But no

when his bound hands had signed

The way that we should fly,

On the roaring pyre flung bleeding -
I saw thy father die!

No more shall his loud tomahawk
Be plied to win our cheer,
Or the shining fish pools darken
Beneath his shadowing spear:
The fading tracks of his fleet foot
Shall guide not as before,
And the mountain-spirits mimic
His hunting call no more!

O moan not! I would give this braid -
Thy father's gift to me-

For but a single palmful

Of water now for thee.

HOW'S MY BOY?

BY SIDNEY DOBELL

"Ho, Sailor of the sea!

How's my boy-my boy?"

"What's your boy's name, good wife,

And in what good ship sail'd he?"

"My boy John –

He that went to sea

What care I for the ship, sailor?

My boy's my boy to me.

You come back from sea,
And not know my John?

I might as well have ask'd some landsman

Yonder down in the town.

There's not an ass in all the parish

But he knows my John.

"How's my boy - my boy?

And unless you let me know

I'll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,

Brass buttons or no, sailor,
Anchor or crown or no!

Sure his ship was the 'Jolly Briton
"Speak low, woman, speak low!"

دو

"And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy John?

If I was loud as I am proud

I'd sing him over the town!

Why should I speak low, sailor?"

"That good ship went down."

"How's my boy-my boy?

What care I for the ship, sailor?
I was never aboard her.

Be she afloat or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound,
Her owners can afford her!

I say how's my John?"

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Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her."

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