Hawke's Bay Floods.

Hastings Standard, Issue 319, 11 May 1897, Page 4

Hawke's Bay Floods.

tlia lordly Ngaruroro sweeps in his impetuous glee, "Where the noble Tutaekuri pours its waters to the sea ; Offspring of the Ruahine, maters of a thousand rills, Gurgling on in placid splendour to the music of its hills. Here they glide by lordly mansion in the triumph of their might, There they skirt the cottage garden with its weeping willows dight, Here they skim the babbling shallows, fret and chequered o'er and o'er, There they roam o'er depths the deepest, black as night's Plutonic shore. Over beds of marliest gravel, chattering to the toi-toi's kiss, Brushing past its flaxy margin, in the freedom of its bliss, Past the wonder-striken cattle with their sleek and rounded sides, Through the flocks of purest] Romneye down to Mother Sea she glides. From her " terra incognita," through the lovely fertile plain, Where the lordlings wealth and labor blend in one harmonic strain, Near by embryonic cities, wherein trade and commerce thrive, Past the now ill-fated centres—Hastings, Meanee, and Clive. What provoked the angry storm-god of the Ruahine Peaks ? To despatch his ready vassals to such base destructive freaks '? Why on baneful wrathful mission sent he forth his chosen train '? On their ruthless fatal mission sorrow blent with every strain. Why this seething mass of waters surging o'er the fruitful plain ? Why this waste of honest labor '? why this loss of wordly gain ? This destruction of those households ? this enwarpment of our aims ? Widows' wail and orphans' weeping, grief o'er unrequited claims ? As the mist on Aorangi shrouds its alpine head from sight ; As the smoke-cloud Tongariro revels in ethereal might; As the crested stormy billows take our loved ones from our arms, So in mysticism enshrouded man is filled with false alarms. Oh, weak soul in earthen vessel, impotent as lifeless clay. Ponder not the why and wherefore of the Goil of Nature's sway ; Wo are weak and He is mighty, we are dull but be is wise, He the great gigantic Author, we but pigmies in his eyes. Nature's God to us has granted gifts and talent less or more, * Sympathetic hearts to guide us over Life's tempestuous shore, Hearts that beat with warmth and feeling for our neighbors in their need, Knightly spirits that will ever the naked clothe, the hungry feed. Then to-night be our endeavor to contribute from our store. To the homeless, weak and helpless, crying out on yonder shore, To remember in our plenty, in our musings in our prayers, Thac a sympathetic outflow oftentimes disburdens cares. Let us praise the noble-hearted, who went forth with life in hand, Self-forgetful, rescue seekers, faithfxil and devoted band, Sacrificed on Duty's altar, offered at a sacred shrine, Names engraven on our memories, thro' deeds that ever brighter shine. O'Donovan, beloved, respected, fearless leader of the true, Stephenson, his worthy comrade, with their gallant trusty few, And the open-hearted captain, free alike to foe and friend, Bold M'Cartney to the rescue, dared the fates and met his end. Heroes midst life's earnest battle, martyrs in a noble way, Reaping now the blessed guerdon in the bliss of endless day! Mournful ones in your bereavement, widow, mother, daughter, son, Accept our sympathy sincere, the victory is won. R. Neill, Wairoa, H.B.