Page:Moyarra- An Australian Legend in Two Cantos, 1891.djvu/39

 Moyarra could not calm his breast. Ye who have seen a cultured mind Range wild, by no restraint confined, And at each thwarting of its will In recklessness plunge deeper still; Think, then, what passions rent the heart Of one not schooled by rules of art. A child of impulse, he had been Till now, spectator in life's scene, And thus to play such bitter part Wrung sighs of anguish from his heart. He sunk to sleep, but 'twas to reap Fresh torture from a feverish dream. His bark was gliding down life's stream, Racked gently by the ambient tide; A guardian angel by his side Seemed round an atmosphere to shed Hallowing the scenes through which they sped; For them the varied shores of life With aye-enduring bliss seemed rife; Each hour owned hues too bright to last Yet each was rival of the past. Alas! he little knew the wave Whose gentle dalliance rose to lave