Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Charles Harpur 1817–68

An Aboriginal Mother’s Lament

STILL farther would I fly, my child,

To make thee safer yet

From the usparing 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—no more

To glad us may he come—

He is smouldering into ashes

Beneath the blasted gum;

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.