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Ripple with the tide；
The rising tide；
The rising tide； O Sina； and the setting moon！
He comes！ her lover！
Tigilau； the son of Tui Viti。
Her maidens round her hover；
The rising waves her white feet cover。
O Tigilau； son of Tui Viti；
Through the mellow dusk thy proas glide；
So soon！
So soon by the rising tide；
The rising tide； my Sina； and the setting moon！
The mooring…poles are left；
The whitening waves are cleft；
By the prows of Tui Viti！
By the sharp keels of Tui Viti！
Broad is the sea； and deep；
The yellow Samoans sleep；
But they will wake and weep
Weep in their luxurious odorous vales；
While the land breeze swells the sails
Of Tui Viti！
Tui Viti far upon the rising tide；
The rising tide
The rising tide； my Sina； beneath the setting moon！
She leaps to meet him！
Her mouth to greet him
Burns at his own。
Away！ To the canoes；
To the yoked war canoes！
The sea in murmurous tone
Whispers the story of their loves；
Re…echoes the story of their loves
The story of Tui Viti；
Of Sina and Tui Viti；
By the rising tide；
The rising tide； Sina； beneath the setting moon！
She has gone！
She has fled！
Sina！
Sina； for whom the warriors decked their shining hair；
Wreathing with pearls their bosoms brown and bare；
Flinging beneath her dainty feet
Mats crimson with the feathers of the parrakeet。
Ho； Samoans！ rouse your warriors full soon；
For Sina is across the rippling wave；
With Tigilau； the bold and brave。
Far； far upon the rising tide！
Far upon the rising tide！
Far upon the rising tide； Sina； beneath the setting moon。
Patrick Moloney。
Melbourne
O sweet Queen…city of the golden South；
Piercing the evening with thy star…lit spires；
Thou wert a witness when I kissed the mouth
Of her whose eyes outblazed the skyey fires。
I saw the parallels of thy long streets；
With lamps like angels shining all a…row；
While overhead the empyrean seats
Of gods were steeped in paradisic glow。
The Pleiades with rarer fires were tipt；
Hesper sat throned upon his jewelled chair；
The belted giant's triple stars were dipt
In all the splendour of Olympian air；
On high to bless； the Southern Cross did shine；
Like that which blazed o'er conquering Constantine。
Alfred Domett。
An Invitation
Well！ if Truth be all welcomed with hardy reliance；
All the lovely unfoldings of luminous Science；
All that Logic can prove or disprove be avowed：
Is there room for no faith though such Evil intrude
In the dominance still of a Spirit of Good？
Is there room for no hope such a handbreadth we scan
In the permanence yet of the Spirit of Man？
May we bless the far seeker； nor blame the fine dreamer？
Leave Reason her radiance Doubt her due cloud；
Nor their Rainbows enshroud？
From our Life of realities hard shallow…hearted；
Has Romance has all glory idyllic departed
From the workaday World all the wonderment flown？
Well； but what if there gleamed； in an Age cold as this；
The divinest of Poets' ideal of bliss？
Yea； an Eden could lurk in this Empire of ours；
With the loneliest love in the loveliest bowers？
In an era so rapid with railway and steamer；
And with Pan and the Dryads like Raphael gone
What if this could be shown？
O my friends； never deaf to the charms of Denial；
Were its comfortless comforting worth a life…trial
Discontented content with a chilling despair？
Better ask as we float down a song…flood unchecked；
If our Sky with no Iris be glory…bedecked？
Through the gloom of eclipse as we wistfully steal
If no darkling aureolar rays may reveal
That the Future is haply not utterly cheerless：
While the Present has joy and adventure as rare
As the Past when most fair？
And if weary of mists you will roam undisdaining
To a land where the fanciful fountains are raining
Swift brilliants of boiling and beautiful spray
In the violet splendour of skies that illume
Such a wealth of green ferns and rare crimson tree…bloom；
Where a people primeval is vanishing fast；
With its faiths and its fables and ways of the past：
O with reason and fancy unfettered and fearless；
Come plunge with us deep into regions of Day
Come away and away！
A Maori Girl's Song
〃Alas； and well…a…day！ they are talking of me still：
By the tingling of my nostril； I fear they are talking ill；
Poor hapless I poor little I so many mouths to fill
And all for this strange feeling O； this sad； sweet pain！
〃O！ senseless heart O simple！ to yearn so； and to pine
For one so far above me； confest o'er all to shine；
For one a hundred dote upon； who never can be mine！
O； 'tis a foolish feeling all this fond； sweet pain！
〃When I was quite a child not so many moons ago
A happy little maiden O； then it was not so；
Like a sunny…dancing wavelet then I sparkled to and fro；
And I never had this feeling O； this sad； sweet pain！
〃I think it must be owing to the idle life I lead
In the dreamy house for ever that this new bosom…weed
Has sprouted up and spread its shoots till it troubles me indeed
With a restless； weary feeling such a sad； sweet pain！
〃So in this pleasant islet； O； no longer will I stay
And the shadowy summer dwelling I will leave this very day；
On Arapa I'll launch my skiff； and soon be borne away
From all that feeds this feeling O； this fond； sweet pain！
〃I'll go and see dear Rima she'll welcome me； I know；
And a flaxen cloak her gayest o'er my weary shoulders throw；
With purfle red and points so free O； quite a lovely show
To charm away this feeling O； this sad； sweet pain！
〃Two feathers I will borrow； and so gracefully I'll wear
Two feathers soft and snowy； for my long； black； lustrous hair。
Of the albatross's down they'll be O； how charming they'll look there
All to chase away this feeling O； this fond； sweet pain！
〃Then the lads will flock around me with flattering talk all day
And； with anxious little pinches； sly hints of love convey；
And I shall blush with happy pride to hear them； I daresay；
And quite forget this feeling O； this sad； sweet pain！〃
James Brunton Stephens。
The Dominion of Australia
（A Forecast； 1877）
She is not yet； but he whose ear
Thrills to that finer atmosphere
Where footfalls of appointed things；
Reverberant of days to be；
Are heard in forecast echoings；
Like wave…beats from a viewless sea
Hears in the voiceful tremors of the sky
Auroral heralds whispering； 〃She is nigh。〃
She is not yet； but he whose sight
Foreknows the advent of the light；
Whose sou