How blest the years of pastoral life shall roll!
Ev'n should some wayward hour the settler's mind
Brood sad on scenes for ever left behind,
Yet not a pang that England's name imparts,
Shall touch a fibre of his children's hearts;
Bound to that native land by nature's bond,

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Full little shall their wishes rove beyond

Its mountains blue, and melon-skirted streams,

Since childhood loved and dreamt of in their dreams.
How many a name, to us uncouthly wild,
Shall thrill that region's patriotic child,

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And bring as sweet thoughts o'er his bosom's chords
As aught that's named in song to us affords !
Dear shall that river's margin be to him,
Where sportive first he bathed his boyish limb, 75
Or petted birds, still brighter than their bowers,
Or twined his tame young kangaroo with flowers.

Go forth and prosper then, emprising band;
May He, who in the hollow of His hand
The ocean holds, and rules the whirlwind's sweep,
Assuage its wrath, and guide you on the deep! 81
CAMPBELL.

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.

OF Hector's deeds did Homer sing;
And of the sack of stately Troy,

What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was Sir Paris' only joy :
And by my pen I will recite

St. George's deeds, an English knight.

Against the Sarazens so rude

Fought he full-long and many a day ;
Where many giants he subdued,

In honour of the Christian way:
And after many adventures past
To Egypt land he came at last.

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ΙΟ

Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that country there did rest
A dreadful dragon fierce and fell,

Whereby they were full sore opprest:
Who by his poisonous breath each day,
Did many of the city slay.

The grief whereof did grow so great

Throughout the limits of the land, That they their wise-men did entreat

To shew their cunning out of hand; What way they might this fiend destroy, That did the country thus annoy.

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The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they die :

Among them such a plague it bred,

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The living scarce could bury the dead.

No means there were, as they could hear,

For to appease the dragon's rage,

But to present some virgin clear,

Whose blood his fury might assuage;

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Each day he would a maiden eat,
For to allay his hunger great.

This thing by art the wise-men found,
Which truly must observed be;
Wherefore throughout the city round
A virgin pure of good degree
Was by the king's commission still
Taken up to serve the dragon's will.

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Thus did the dragon every day

Untimely crop some virgin flower, Till all the maids were worn away,

And none were left him to devour : Saving the king's fair daughter bright, Her father's only heart's delight.

Then came the officers to the king

That heavy message to declare,

Which did his heart with sorrow sting;

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She is,” quoth he, “ my kingdom's heir ;

O let us all be poison'd here,

Ere she should die, that is my dear."

Then rose the people presently,

And to the king in rage they went; They said his daughter dear should die, The dragon's fury to prevent : "Our daughters all are dead," quoth they, "And have been made the dragon's prey :

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"And by their blood we rescued were,

And thou hast saved thy life thereby ;

And now in sooth it is but fair,

For us thy daughter so should die." "O save my daughter," said the king;

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And let me feel the dragon's sting."

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Then fell fair Sabra on her knee,

And to her father dear did say,

"O father, strive not thus for me,

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But let me be the dragon's prey;

It may be, for my sake alone,

This plague upon the land was thrown.

"Tis better I should die," she said,

"Than all your subjects perish quite ;

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Perhaps the dragon here was laid,

For my offence to work his spite :
And after he hath suck'd my gore,
Your land shall feel the grief no more."

"What hast thou done, my daughter dear, For to deserve this heavy scourge ?

It is my fault, as may appear,

Which makes the gods our state to purge; Then ought I die, to stint the strife,

And to preserve thy happy life."

Like mad-men, all the people cried,
"Thy death to us can do no good;
Our safety only doth abide

In making her the dragon's food."
"Lo! here I am, I come," quoth she,
"Therefore do what you will with me."

"Nay stay, dear daughter," quoth the queen,
"And as thou art a virgin bright,
That hast for virtue famous been,

So let me clothe thee all in white;

And crown thy head with flowers sweet,
An ornament for virgins meet."

And when she was attired so,

According to her mother's mind,

Unto the stake then did she go;

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To which her tender limbs they bind :

And being bound to stake a thrall
She bade farewell unto them all.

"Farewell, my father dear," quoth she,

Take you no thought nor weep for me,

For you may have another child: Since for my country's good I die,

Death I receive most willingly."

The king and queen and all their train

With weeping eyes went then their way,

And let their daughter there remain,

To be the hungry dragon's prey : But as she did there weeping lie, Behold St. George came riding by.

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And seeing there a lady bright

So rudely tied unto a stake,
As well became a valiant knight,

He straight to her his way did take :

"Tell me, sweet maiden," then quoth he,

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"What caitiff thus abuseth thee?

"And, lo! by Christ his cross I vow,

Which here is figured on my breast,

"Here comes that cursed fiend," quoth she,

"That soon will make an end of me."

St. George then looking round about,
The fiery dragon soon espied,

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And like a knight of courage stout,

Against him did most fiercely ride; And with such blows he did him greet, He fell beneath his horse's feet.

For with his lance that was so strong,

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As he came gaping in his face,

In at his mouth he thrust along;

For he could pierce no other place :
And thus within the lady's view,
This mighty dragon straight he slew.

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The savour of his poison'd breath

Could do this holy knight no harm. Thus he the lady saved from death,

And home he led her by the arm; Which when King Ptolemy did see, There was great mirth and melody.

Old Ballad.

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