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Young seal or dolphin, in his deadly clutch,
Here ran the stormy-petrels on the waves,
N°W.D'Entrecasteaux Channel opens fair
And Tasman's Head lies on your starboard bow Huge rocks and stunted trees meet you where'er
You look around ; 't is a bold coast enow.
A reef of rocks lies westward long and low.
'Tis a most beauteous Strait. The Great South Sea's
Proud waves keep holiday along its shore, And as the vessel glides before the breeze,
Broad bays and isles appear, and steep cliffs hoar With groves on either hand of ancient trees
Planted by Nature in the days of yore : Van Dieman's on the left and Bruné's isle Forming the starboard shore for many a mile.
But all is still as death! Nor voice of man
Is heard, nor forest warbler's tuneful song. It seems as if this beauteous world began
To be but yesterday, and the earth still young
VAN DIEMAN'S LAND (TASMANIA).
And unpossessed. For though the tall black swan
Sits on her nest and stately sails along,
Yet all is still as death! Wild solitude
Reigns undisturbed along that voiceless shorc, And every tree seems standing as it stood
Six thousand years ago. The loud wave's roar Were music in these wilds. The wise and good
That wont of old, as hermits, to adore The God of Nature in the desert drear, Might sure have found a fit sojourning here.
John Dunmore Lang.
NEW ZEALAND, NEW GUINEA,
AND NEW CALEDONIA.
THE THREE ISLANDS.
ERE lifts New Zealand, mid a sea of storms,
Her hills that threaten heaven like Titan forms,-
above the lost Pérouse!
Thomas Kibble Hervey.
THE INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO.
Behold what isles these glistening seas adorn ! Mid hundreds yet unnamed, Ternat behold; By day her hills in pitchy clouds enrolled, By night like rolling waves the sheets of fire Blaze o’er the seas, and high to heaven aspire. For Lusian hands here blooms the fragrant clove, But Lusian blood shall sprinkle every grove. The golden birds that ever sail the skies, Here to the sun display their shining dyes, Each want supplied, on air they ever soar ; The ground they touch not till they breathe no more. Here Banda’s isles their fair embroidery spread Of various fruitage, azure, white, and red; And birds of every beauteous plume display Their glittering radiance, as from spray to spray, From bower to bower, on busy wings they rove, To seize the tribute of the spicy grove.