TO PORT ESSINGTON. 363 
find the heads of the Flinders, after having crossed either a 
table-land or a dividing range. He would then continue his 
journey to the Albert, and follow that river up to ascertain 
the latitude of its sources, and the nature of the country. 
He would then continue on a westerly course, to come 
successively to the heads of the Nicholson, the Van Alphen, 
the Abel Tasman, the Robinson, and the Macarthur, and 
from the latter river he hoped to reach the waters of the 
west coast, in about latitude 17° 18’. Should success attend 
bis journey he would then turn to the southward, and work 
his way parallel to the north-west and west coast until he 
reached Swan River. 
This journey he hoped to complete in two years, though 
unforeseen difficulties might procrastinate it beyond tbat 
period. That his most sanguine expectations may be accom- 
plished will be the sincere wish of all who can appreciate the 
labour and anxiety that such a journey has imposed on the 
persevering and indefatigable traveller.* 
* We are indebted to the kindness of J. P. Townsend, Esq., for the 
means of adding the following well-deserved complimentary lines on the 
return to Sydney of Dr. Leichardt, 
ON DR. LEICHARDT'S RETURN FROM PORT ESSINGTON. 
Thy footsteps have returned again, thou Wanderer of the Wild, _ E 
Where Nature from her lonely throne in giant beauty smiled; — 
Pilgrim of mighty wastes, untried by human foot before, — 
t o'er the wilderness, thy wearyjourney'so'er. —— 
Thou hast battled with the dangers of forest and of flood, 
And amid the silent Desert a conqueror hast stood : 
hast triumphed o'er the perils of mountain and of plain, 
À And won a nation's loud applause to greet thee home again. 
> > Long had we mourned for thee as lost, and plaintive dirges sung, 
For Time a wild, mysterious veil around thy fate had flung, 
And Hope's declining energies with feeble effort strove 
Against the boding voice of fear that haunts the heart of love. = 
And Rumour with her hundred tongues, her vague and blighting reath, 
_ fied whispered tidings sad and drear—dark tales of blood and death 
e Till tortured Fancy ceased to hope, and, all despairing, gave — 
e Thy name a hallowed memory—thy bones a desert grave. - Ae 
