IN MEMORIAM VERSES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1106, 12 May 1893, Page 46 (Supplement)

IN MEMORIAM VERSES.

A WREATH FROM THE WORKSHOP. John Ballance, Died, Apkil 27th. 1893. ' I hops I shill not be forgotten.'—John Ballanoe. Forgotten ! thou'the toiler's sun, O'Jr leader in this siuthern land, When other hearts and tongues were dumb Thine own rang out to cheer our band. Fresh from defeat, our rallied force Hailed with great joy thy rising sun, And in thy fertile mind's resource Reposed, as if the fight were won. Forget thee ! Hark, one grateful cry O'er faction's voice prevailing, 'Mid Irish sob the Scottish sigh Blends with the People's wailing. Forget thee ! Yes, when waves forget The moon's fair face to follow, When star doth cease to rise or Bet, Or love our lives to hallow. Forget thee ! No, while truth remains, And grateful hearts remember Thy memory will its place retain Undimmed its present splendour. A soldier's fame may fade away Though wreathed in Poet's otory, J A life like thine doth last for aye A nd fructify in glory. Rest, softly rest, great chief and friend, Our path seems dark without thee ; On thee did strength with goodness blend, Love, sea-like, flowed about thee. R. Lauchlan. JOHN BALLANCE. The brilliant star on which we gazed but now, And at its splendour marvelled from afar, Has passed from sight. But never did it glow With brighter radiance than when it swept Athwart the blue and star-gemm'd firmament, And sank into the darkness of the night. A mighty spirit all too nobly great To wear the shell that did encase it once, Has from its bondage torn itself apart, And now is free. Free as the winds that sweep Along the parchrfd surface of the earth, From cooler climes, to vivify a world. This brilliant star, and mighty spirit, too, Were once the noble Ballance. Now he sleeps, And is at rest. And, while the private grief "Refuses consolation, the morning sun Its heavenly course pursues, and shines upon A people lone and sad. Zealandia mourns. John Rigq. April 29th, 1893. LINES ON THE DEATH OF MR BALLANCE. Oh. won'drous mystery of Life and Death, That wisest men have ponder'd o er in vain ! In vain we question with our feeble breath Thy strange and dire decrees of woe and pain, Vainly we ask, most cruel Death, oh why Could'st thou not reap some vile and noxious weed, And spare the apple of his country's eye, The friend who help'd her in her hour of need? When times were dark, and hope was but a ray, He gave his strength, his skill, that hope to save, And now, when Fortune grants a brighter day, What honour hath his country's friend ? A grave ! A grave ! While yet within his noble heart Burn'd aspirations void of selfish greed ; To all who in his thoughts and hopes had part. Oh, Death, thou'st dealt a bitter blow indeed ! A grave! just when the clouds had cleared away, And left his eager spirit freer scope, Ere yet his pow'rs had' reach'd their fullest day, While yet his country look'd to him with hope! A bed of pain ! A grave ! Is this the meed, Oh, patriot heart, that was reserved for thee? Not ours to question, tho' our hearts may bleed, Ours but to bend to the Divine decree ! Wtwi Elm. Shag Point, April 29th, 1893.

JOHN BALLANCE. Died April 27, 1893. Upon the threshold of great fame he stood /»rmed ito do battle, girt with living power. His purpose fixed upon the people's good, He shone, the man of men, to fit the hour. Not in one bound had he thus leapt to fame, But slowly, rising year by year in growth. He was, but yesterday, the man whose name Stood as the Bymbol for progression's troth. Kindly and clever, practical and wise, Winning the grudging tributes of a hostile press ; To him, what wonder that our weary eyes Turned for a lead amid the party stress. Ah I o'er that grave, which soon shall hold the dust Of him, on whom so great an issue lay, We'll plant our daring, loving trust; His work shall live through many a working day. Yea, though we mourn and long will hold The memory dear of our lost chief, We'll still present a front as bold To those who'd profit by our grief. Now rest with honour, and eternal rest, fast are the glories, triumphs, sometime, scorn With Him, who doeth all things best, We leave the statesman and the man we mourn. W.H. JOHN BALLANCE. Hushed was the City's hum, Low as the muffled drum, As the news sped ; Deep was the nation's pain, Bitter the sad refrain, He is dead! he is dead 1 He was the People's friend, This, as the ages trend, Shall be his crown; i Never for self he stood, But for the greatest good, This his renown. The fragrance of earnest life, Spent in the noble strife Of helping Mankind; The beauty of after-glow, Lighting our paths below, Tehse stay behind. And as the wail sinks low, After the first great blow, That sorrow gives, Back roll the echoes then, Into the hearts of men, Binging, he lives! E.T.A. .Wellington, April 28th, 1893.

Condolences upon the death of the late Premier have been received from all parts of the colony by Mrs Ballance and Mr Seddon. The Hat is altogether too lengthy for republication in this supplement. The Marquis of Ripon, Seoretary of State for the Colonies, expressed to Mr W. B. Peroevai, Agent-General for New Zealand, his great regret at the death of Mr Ballance. The Premiers of Tasmania and South Australia, have sent cablegrams expressing their sympathy with the people of New Zealand at the loss of their Premier.