Southerly Busters. Gibson George Herbert

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      Oh! Mother, say, for I long to know,

      Where doth the tree of Freedom grow,

      And strike its roots in the heart of man

      As deep and far as the famed banyan?

      Is it 'mid those groups in the Southern Seas,

      In the Coral Isles, or the far Fijis,

      Where the restless billows seeth and toss

      'Neath the gleaming light of the Southern Cross?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Then tell me, mother, can it be where

      The cry of "Liberty" rends the air?

      Where grow the maize and the maple tree,

      In the fertile "bottoms" of Tennessee?

      Or is it up where the north winds roar,

      Away by the fair Canadian shore,

      Where the Indians shriek with insane halloos —

      As drunk as owls in their bark canoes?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Or is it back in the Western States,

      Where Colt's revolver rules the fates,

      And Judges lounge in a liquor shop

      While Dean and Adams's pistols pop?

      Where Justice is but a shrivelled ghost

      As deaf and blind as a stockyard post,

      And License sits upon Freedom's chair —

      Oh, say, dear mother, can it be there?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Is it on the banks of the wild Paroo,

      Where the emu stalks, and the kangaroo

      Bounds o'er the sand-hills free and light,

      And the dingo howls through the sultry night;

      Where the native gathers the nardoo-seed

      For his frugal meal; and the centipede —

      While the worn-out traveller lies inert,

      Invades the folds of his flannel shirt?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Is it where yon death-like stillness reigns

      O'er the vast expanse of the salt-bush plains,

      Where the shepherd leaveth his Leicester ewes

      For the firm embrace of his noon-tide snooze,

      And the most enchanting visions come

      To his thirsty spirit of Queensland rum,

      While the sun rays strike through his garments scant —

      Is it there, dear mother, this wond'rous plant?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Or Southward, down where our brethren hold

      Those keys of power, rich mines of gold —

      That land of rumour and vague reports,

      Alluvial diggings, and reefs of quartz —

      Where brokers give you the straightest "tip,"

      And let in in the way of "scrip;"

      Where all men vapour, and vaunt, and boast,

      And manhood suffrage rules the roast?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Is it where the blasts of the simoom fan,

      The blazing valleys of Hindustan;

      Where the Dervish howls, and their dupes are fleeced

      By the swarth Parsee, and the Brahmin priest;

      Where men believe in their toddy-bowls,

      And the transmigration of human souls,

      And the monkeys battle with countless fleas

      On the twisted boughs of the tamarind trees?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Or is it more to the northward, more

      Toward the ice-bound rivers of Labrador,

      Where the glittering curtain of gleaming snow

      Enshrouds the home of the Esquimaux;

      Or further still to the north, away

      Where the bones of the Artic heroes lay

      Long, long on the icy surface bare,

      To bleach and dry in the frosty air?

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      Then is it, mother, among the trees

      That shade the paths in the Tuilleries,

      Where the students walk with the pale grisettes,

      And scent the air with their cigarettes?

      Or doth it bloom in that atmosphere

      Of mild tobacco and lager beer,

      Where gutteral curses mingle too

      With the croupiers patter of "faites votre jeu?"

      "Not there – not there, my child."

      "Boy, 'tis a plant that loves to blow

      Where the fading rays of the sunset go;

      Up where the sun-light never sets,

      And angels tootle their flageolets;

      Up through the fleecy clouds, and far

      Beyond the track of the farthest star,

      Where СКАЧАТЬ