MAORILAND: A RETROSPECT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3113, 12 November 1913, Page 62

MAORILAND: A RETROSPECT.

(For the Otago Witness.) (Written on Mount Victoria. Devonport, Auckland). A wondrous land of ours, this Southern land. . . . W here on the earth are fairer mountains seen, Or deeper valleys opening to the view; Or plains in all the world so rich, so grand, With clover and with waving grasses green, And, over all, soft skies, so faint and blue ? I love this land o' mine; for nowhere else May lovelier Sounds be found, tho’ round the globe We travel; or move beauteous streams drift by. Than here, where, (o the sound of cattlebells. Spring places on the land her woodland robe, And ev’ry dainty blossom opens an eye. To-day on Mount Victoria’s slopes I sit. Beneath the grey and melancholy pines, And watch the smoke from Auckland, where it drifts Like clouds on silver cords; while round me flit The myriad butterflies; and softly shines The bay beneath the mist that gently lifts.

I see the ferries riding on the wave/ With gay flags decked; and thro’ the harbour’s door A steamer passing; yachts with sails of white Drift down the breeze; and scows (where waters lave With gentle fingers, cliff and beach and shore), Outspread their wings, and vanish from my sight.

My thoughts drift back, for years and years it seems. T see this Island rising from the main. Inviolate, proud, unpeopled, save by birds And reptiles; Island made for sun and dreams; I hear the mighty moa tread again The forests down, past mammoth flocks and herds.

The giant kauris, on cock hill and crest, Stab the high heavens; and the kovvhai tree Blooms red with myriad blossoms; the lagoons Are filled with water-fowl; and pigeons rest Beside the blue lake's rim, and cheerily The tui sings his song in quiet noons.

. . . Alas! the foot of man profanes the glade. ... From o’er the sea appears hij brown canoe; His war-songs speed the birds in dire affright— His settlements arise, and man and maid Court 'neath the clematis: and battles, too. Proclaim the power of man, his hate, his might.

Hoarse shouts of conflict hlond with songs of peace. . . . Thus thro’ the centuries, the Maori folk Struggle and live, and gambol, side by side ; No one has dreamed that war shall ever cease; No one is dreaming of a heavier yoke; . . They live and die as all their sires have died

The scene is changed: across the rolling surge . That brought the Maoris from their former isle. The ships ,of white men come, and pioneers Leap to the shore, 'mid forest's gloom ard dirge ; Build homes of wood and tin, and tear the smile , , . From Nature’s face, to charm the bounteous years.

Brought face to face, the war like passions rouse Within the white and brown—the fields are strewn With bleeding men; the weaker fall at last: And by their settlements the cattle browse; And white men raise cathedrals made of stone Where only wharos stood in seasons past.

Hugo cities rise; vile slums with vice unchecked , Make horrid clamour iu the twilight air: Great shops are built to dress the noisy throng; The busy axe is plied—tbe forests wrecked! Dame Nature's tearful face has ceased to wea r The cheerful aspect she was worn so long.

We know the rest: how fiom the Northern To Invercargill’s Bluff we speed and toil And work our farms, and delve for yellow gold! How, with our sturdy hearts and hands, we shape A nation from the land wo daily soil. And spoil, nor rue the glories made of old. . . .

Yet. as I gaze from Devon port to-day. Beneath these arching trees, and watch the ship= Sail outward, and afar hear Auckland s din. And mourn for vanished splendours passed a wav. Unconscious prayers are rising to rny lips. I see a be*ter era ushered in. —E. L. Etrk. Tui street. Devonport, Auckland.