Beneath the wave,
In a crystal cave,
In the coral land,
By her mermaid band,
Doth Queen Ina rest.
She lieth in state,
And the mermaids wait
All silently;
She lieth alone
By her empty throne,
All silently.
And the mermaids weep
They a vigil keep.
Hark! now they sing,
And their voices ring
A solemn dirge.
It soundeth below,
And riseth above,
On a gentle surge;
Wave after wave
Doth onward lave ;-
A tuneful sweep
O'er the mighty deep:
In storm or in calm,
Like a voice of love
That weepeth a woe,
It soundeth below,
And riseth above.
And the sailors know,
'Neath that tuneful wave,
In a crystal cave,
In her ocean land,
By her mermaid band,
Queen Ina is laid to rest.
FRANCES SESCADAROWNA LEWIN.
[Of Egerton, St. Mary's, South Australia. Has published a volume entitled Songs of the South (Adelaide : Scrymgeour and Sons).]
THE STORY OF ABEL TASMAN.
BOLD and brave, and strong and stalwart,
Captain of a ship was he;
And his heart was proudly thrilling
With the dreams of chivalry.
One fair maiden, sweet though stately,
Lingered in his every dream,
Touching all his hopes of glory
With a brighter, nobler gleam.
Daughter of a haughty father,
Daughter of an ancient race,
Yet her wilful heart surrendered,
Conquered by his handsome face;
And she spent her days in looking
Out across the Southern seas,
Picturing how his bark was carried
Onward by the favouring breeze.
Little wonder that she loved him,
Abel Tasman, brave and tall;
Though the wealthy planters sought her,
He was dearer than them all.
Dearer still because her father
Said to him, with distant pride,
"Darest thou, a simple captain,
Seek my daughter for thy bride?"
But at length the gallant seaman
Won himself an honoured name;
When again he met the maiden,
At her feet he laid his fame :
Said to her, "My country sends me,
Trusted with a high command,
With the Zeehan and the Heemskirk,
To explore the Southern strand.
I must claim it for my country,
Plant her flag upon its shore;
But I hope to win you, darling,
When the dangerous cruise is o'er."
And her haughty sire, relenting,
Did not care to say him nay:
Flushing high with love and valour,
Sailed the gallant far away.
And the captain, Abel Tasman,
Sailing under Southern skies,
Mingled with his hopes of glory
Thoughts of one with starlike eyes. Onward sailed he, where the crested
White waves broke around his ship, With the love-light in his true eyes, And the song upon his lip.
Onward sailed he, ever onward,
Faithful as the stars above;
Many a cape and headland pointing
Tells the legend of his love:
For he linked their names together,
Speeding swiftly o'er the wave-
Tasman's Isle and Cape Maria,
Still they bear the names he gave.
Toil and tempest soon were over,
And he turned him home again,
Seeking her who was his guiding
Star across the trackless main.
Strange it seems the eager captain
Thus should hurry from his prize,
When a thousand scenes of wonder
Stood revealed before his eyes.
But those eyes were always looking
Out towards the Java seas,
Where the maid he loved was waiting,
Dearer prize to him than these.
But his mission was accomplished,
And a new and added gem
Sparkling with a wondrous lustre
In the Dutch king's diadem.
Little did the gallant seaman
Think that, in the days to be,
England's hand should proudly wrest it
From his land's supremacy.
ONLY a lovers' meeting
Under the chestnut-trees,
Yet two fond hearts are beating
With passionate sympathies.
Only a whispered word,
Breathed low in the summer-time,
Yet a woman's heart is stirred
To its depths by the passionate rhyme.
Only a tiny ring
Clasped on a finger fair,
Yet her heart has passed for ever
Into another's care.
Only a single kiss
Pressed on her pure white brow,
Yet a maiden's heart is happy
In the knowledge of Love's vow.
Only a letter from India
Calling him to its shore; Only a moonlight parting,
Yet "Love's young dream" is o'er. Only a year since sailing
When a lapse in his letters came; Only a sweet face paling,
Whenever they mention his name.
Only a letter at last
Cold and haughtily sternWill she try to forget the past,
And all his letters burn?
He feels that they would not be happy,
So he frees her from her troth;
He hopes she will not mourn him,
""Twill be better for them both."
Only a silent grief
When in her room alone;
But tears bring no relief
When every hope is flown. Only the constant memory
Of their meetings 'neath the trees, Yet a girl's true heart is breaking Over trifles such as these.
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