LAMENT TO MR DAVID M'KELLAR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2009, 25 August 1892, Page 37

LAMENT TO MR DAVID M'KELLAR.

(Shot in Mexico J " But I'll remember thee, Glencairn. And all that thou hast done for me. —Burns. In solitary pensive muse When day with its hard toils are o'er, I wander, brooding o'er the news, It well befits me to deplore. Ah ! well for this may issue forth My grief, at this untimely end ; While I remember all hia worth, Who was to me so kind a friend. Can I forget while life remains When at his house a frequent guest, The welcome kind, the courteous pains, To make me there feel self possessed. Forget that spirit's kindness rare, That, when this land left far behind, Could 'mid his own perplexing care A poor friend's welfare bear in mind Now o'er his form in death laid low, In silent bitterness I grieve ; Whose bounty* late, with fervid clow Caused my astonished heart to heave. And he, that bitter vengeful foe, May his end be a felon's lot ; Who could a family fill with woe, With coward aim and murd'rous shot. In him what fitting pioneer Explored the wastes of this young land ; With grand physique and vision clear, And for each toil the_ ready hand ; With these a nerve of iron brace, That caused him but to smile at fear ; And moved him, 'mid a lawless race, To calmly choose his future sphere. And thou, dear lady, for thy case Our sympathetic feelings flow ; As we recall thy genial face, •In our midst so short a time ago. For thee, who made thyself beloved, By thy delight in doing good ; Since from thy place here thou removed, Successive evils have pursued. For whom but gladness and sunshine, Till late, had seemed to be thy part ; What sorrows barbed, by fate malign, Have since then pieiced thy woman's heart i For her laid in the grave so young Had scarce dried thy maternal tear ; When thy heart deeper anguish wrung O'er thy loved husband's bloody bier. Then O return unto the shore, Where mid its hardy bracing clime, New Zealand's mountains tow ring hoar, O'erlook a land unstained with crime ; For here are friends, who for thy weal Feel still as loyal as of yore, Where time amid their love will heal Thy bosom's wounds now bleeding sore. — Dugald Ferguson

Tapanut, August 1892. * Mr M'Kellar, when in London, published at his own risk, and unsolicited by me, my novel of "Bush Life." receiving the MS from the friend to whom I had scut it, with the idea only of disposing of it to a newspaper proprietor.