Page:Moyarra- An Australian Legend in Two Cantos, 1891.djvu/27

 Shines through all time a beacon-fire To light the enterprising few To their celestial portion true Which, in the dreariest hour can build Hope, all ephemeral ills to gild. Do patriots' laurels earn our praise? Through the far mist of ancient days Gleams a long line of Greece's martyrs Who perished to defend her charters. Their epitaph their country's groans— Their fame a world's approving tones. Doth wisdom claim our reverence? Ages Yet mourn the loss of ancient sages. And wisdom's goddess, drooping, flies To plume her pinion in the skies. Bend we at Poesy's sacred shrine? Oh! thou, Mæonides divine, Before whose throne the boldest falters Ere he approach the Muses' altars, Shed but one feather of that pinion Which gaining thy sublime dominion Gave thee to soar the upper air And dwell in instellation there; Oh! for the faintest colour given