| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| An Aboriginal Mother’s Lament |
| | | Charles Harpur (1817–68) |
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| 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 | 5 |
| With stealthy steps wind-fleet, | |
| But the dark night shrouds the forest, | |
| And thorns are in my feet. | |
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| O moan not! I would give this braid— | |
| Thy father’s gift to me— | 10 |
| But for a single palmful | |
| Of water now for thee. | |
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| Ah, spring not to his name—no more | |
| To glad us may he come— | |
| He is smouldering into ashes | 15 |
| 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! | 20 |
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| 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 | 25 |
| The way that we should fly, | |
| On the roaring pyre flung bleeding— | |
| I saw thy father die! | |
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| No more shall his loud tomahawk | |
| Be plied to win our cheer, | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| His hunting call no more! | |
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| O moan not! I would give this braid— | |
| Thy father’s gift to me— | |
| For but a single palmful | |
| Of water now for thee. | 40 |
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