IN STARRY BYWAYS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2439, 12 December 1900, Page 68

IN STARRY BYWAYS.

By Jessie Mackay. II.— FRANCIS SINCLAIR. It is well, sometimes, to step beyond bhe charmed bournes of the innej" garden of art and to watch the intended ballad flowers that grow by crannied rock and -on the wind-beaten hillside. For it is not hard to see that if the great Mother of Flowers 3 is more gorgeously worshipped amid the wordy luxuriance of her undivided domains, &he is often more purely and truly adored in those wild solitudes of the edelweiss. Francis Sinclair ("Philip Garth") may ■claim to be New Zealand's first poet. For l\'ew Zealand, in her own stern youth, was the home of liis early manhood. The Sinclair family came to the country shortly alter the 1 Treaty oi Waitangi was signed, and they were landed at Wellington in 1841 by one of the first vessels of the New Zealand Company. Alter spending some months at the infant settlement of Port .Nicholson (called Poneke by the Maoris), they removed to Wangaaiui, making a dimcult and dangerous journey thither in an open boat. Oaptain Sinclair's wife and daughters were indeed probably the first" white women who sailed up the "Wanganui River. But the last increasing hostility of the .natives precluded settlement m that district, and soon the wanderers returned to Port Nicholson. .There the Captain and his sons built a vessel of their own, and sailed south to explore the almost uriknow^h. coasts of Te Wai Pounamu. This was in 1840. They decided upon Banks Peninsula as a 'home, and took up Pigeon Bay, mi company with Mr Jibenezer Itay^'whom they had brought iown from Wellington. At The same time they conveyed the brothers Deans to Lyttelton, tram which they founded their homestead at Riccarton seven years be±#re the Canterbury Pilgrims •landed. The Pigeon Bay settlement throve in these prosperous whaling days. While the Captain was on his voyages The homestead was ably directed by Jiis wile. Memories of the Captain's pretty daughters still linger among the oldest settlers. The young Francis picked up a desultory education in the first schools of the Peninsula ; but the dashing waves and bluffs wooded to the sea were the true schoolmasters of his budding fancy, which, even then leaned to poetry. About 1856 he penetrated to the Ultima Thule of -South Canterbury, and took up a sheep farm in the Mackenzie Country in company with Ms uncle, Mr M'-ELutclieson. But the silent, sterile plains beyond Burkes Pass were a bitter home to those coast dwellers. The isolation, the terrible snows oi winter, the difficulty of carrying provisions on foot or on horseback amid "trackless swamps sand treacherous rivers — all this was enough to daunt the ■stoutest heart, and in a year or two they sold 'out, leaving one or two place names beliind which have lingered to this 'day — such as the Maryburn. After a wonderfully prosperous career as a whaler, Captain 'Sinclair put out on his last voyage, and never returned. When all hope ot his being alive failed, unrest once more seized the family. In 1864, while the Maori war raged fiercely in 'the north, the Sinclairs sold out of Pigeon Bay and sailed away in their own ship to search the broad Pacific for a home. These modern virkixigs were strongly tempted by the wild woodland beauty of Vancouver ; but the winter was too severe. At last they cast anchor at Hawaii. There they bought for themselves the 'lovely island of Niihau ; and settled in truly patriarchal fashion. The whaler's widow, "an intrepid, strong-willed woman with an immense capacity ior business, was the chieftainess of tne clan. The sons took to themselves wives ; the pretty maids who had wrought such havoc amid Peninsula hearts in the fifties found a mates in Hawaii. By one and all the newcomers were welcomed, Trat on one firm condition — they were to seek no abiding nome beyond the island of the Sinclair s, though the love of travel might be gratified at any time. It was no outland American, however, that Francis Sinclair married, but his cousin, Miss M'Hutcheson, daughter of the Mackenzie pioneer. The M'Hutchesons are still widely scattered throughout Obago and Canterbury. Dunedin readers need not be reminded of the charming little book, "Camp Life in Fiordland," and other works of travel by Mr William M'Hutcheson ; books 'which show how wild Nature still works pure delight in the strong children of the pioneers. To return to the Sinclairs. More than thirty years have elapsed since they made their home in Hawaii. Some time during the last decade the old chiftainess died at -the age of 93. Niihau is still the island of the Sinclairs, and Francis still lives there in the intervals of travel. N"o more beautiful home for a poet conid be imagined. In the summer they would retire to the mountainous heights of the island and camp there for months together. In those sunny and luxuriant solitudes Francis Sinclair, would write while his equally gifted wife painted and studied the • magnificent flora of Hawaii. Her Meads in New Zealand possess some copies of the beautifully lithographed volume of island flowers produced by herself. In 1385 her husband gathered his fugitive verses into a volume, "Ballads and Poems from the Pacific," which was published by a Lon.lon firm. Thoiigh he wrote intermittently from early youth, the book is bare of New Zealand themes, save one dirge from the Ulaonn Francis Sinclair atSiis best is distinctly a ballad writer. With the very human tenderness and the faithful simplicity of his kind, he has also the ballad writer's hini- ■ tations. He looks on humanity un:l Nature ' through the ancient bard's mist of longing reverence. Face to face, in the piercing realistic light of modernity, he never sees them. His spirit answers promptly and loyally to every impulse of the singer, 'brt he knows not how to go afield for ihe paradoxes and impressionist phrases <of moclc-rn art. No pretension or self-satisfaction mars his quest of the eternal mystery of art. He confesses liis limitatWs jn &c

"Proem," which is perhaps the b°.st poem in the book : t But my heart and not my lips received the, chrism ; Of the mystic touch of fire and tender song; , And though my soul can read their wondrous ' fprisin, "Which the angels hold to mortals all life long — Yet my lips are slow and cold, and cannot ' render [ Into speech the lavish gifts -of wondrous things ; Of songs as pure -and high and sweet and tender, As the grant! majestic sweep of angels' wings. His muse is never happy apart Irom the sea, which continually rolls in memories to his feet of the dons, the buccaneers, and ' the gallant captains of Elizabeth's days. " In the Gulf of Dulce"' is a good -example of his ballads : I looked no more on Dulce, or the Port of Isabel, Where the silver moonlight glistened and the long sharp shadows fell; But I see in dreams where the firefly gleams, ' and a great ceiba tree, "Where -the trailers swung, and the blossoms hung, and. my true love died for me. Some bitter spiritual experience is typified in the "Burden of the Desert of' the Sea" : From an .ocean of storm-wrack and terror, I came to a desolate short, Where., "the Tnirage spread out' like a .mirror, And showed all its ghastliness more. Not a -sound broke -the stillness ttiat brooded O'er the sand dunes that slumbered like graves, • Save th-e pain-haunted cry of the plover, And the moan of the desolate wave?. Of his reflective pieces, "The House We Build at Last ' and " What is Life " are the best : ""What is life?'' saith the soldier. "A great field of -battle, Where we must for ever heat dewn or be beaten-; Men a"re bufc^ species of purified cattle, And the law of creation is Eat, or be ' eaten! " "What is life? " saith the king. "It is this, to ba ruled By one sceptred head, be he knave, man, or ass ; To be prompt with your 'taxes, and easily schooled ; And kneel low in the dirt and stay "there till I .pass." Sftras souls yield Iheir fruit. Be that fruit sweet or sour, It cannot he altered by you or by me. 33ut the stars sure not slain by the cloud -of an hour; NOl do the poor fishes control the great sea. For £ last quotation, "Ellen 0' Angus '' commends itself as -a creditable imitation of the ancient* ballad style: Earl Angus -wha ruled in the isles afar (0 bonnie, braw ships, wi silken sails!), ,Had ac daughter as fair as "the evening star i (An' the ships cam' in wi' the southron gales). A cruel sea-king, wha saw .her face (The hawk aye fiies at the whitest clove)— £ cruel sea-lscing, withouten grace — (But liane .conqtier the king o' love!) A crael sea-king, he vowed to take (O dule an' wae 1 ! O dule an' wae!) An' sweet young Ellen his leman make (0 sorrow betide my natal day!) The cruel sea-king had couth o' gold (O love is warm, but .gold is cauld!) ' An' Angus was proud an' poor aii' old — (May the curse o'ertake tne evil Scald!) " O father, I lo'e young Ethert, the fair " (The sea is deep by the Mull o' Tinn), "I've lo'ed him long, I've lo'ed him sair" (The floods are deepest that smoothest rin). The sea-king moored his bonnie ships (TJie throstle is singing wi' meikle glee), An' he kissed fair Ellen's sweet, red lips (But the hawk an' the dove can no agree). " O dinna ye nutter, an' flee, an' hide " (Play up, my piper, play loud an' laixg!) " For ye must and ye sail be the sea-king's bride " ■ (Strike up, my minstrels, a merry sang.) " To-night, fail king, when the moon is reel " (0 throstle, srng low wi' dule an' fear!) " Yell see me lie in my bridal bed " (Sing low an' saft that the dead may hear!) " But first ye maun gang to the Loch o' Finn" (0 bonnie, red moon, shine clear an' fair!), "An' look at a mermaid, that lies therein", A sweet, young merniaid wi' yellow hair." The sea-king gaed to the Loch o' Finn ,(,O throstle, ye sing but a dreary sang), An' he looked at the mermaid that lay therein; JEe" looked fu' sad an' he looked fn' lang. For it wasn'a a mermaid that lay asleep ; It wasna a^mermaid wi' yellow hair! But white as the >snaw — long fathoms deep — Sweet Ellen o' Angtis was lying there!