190 PRESIDENTS ADDRESS—SECTION I. 
of poetry are distinctly evident, but indications are not 
wanting that deep regret for what he had lost, and for what he 
ought to have been, was a frequent experience, and that he 
accepted his existing position only in a spirit of gloomy resigna- 
tion—a condition which we know unhappily developed at last 
into despair. The somewhat complex philosophy of a character 
generous and unselfish in one phase, almost reckless in another, 
yet withal capable of attracting in a remarkable degree both 
sympathy and regard, is perhaps slightly shadowed forth in his 
own lines, which, under the circumstances of the writer, are not 
without pathos— 
Question not, but live and labour 
Till yon goal be won, 
Helping every feeble neighbour, 
Seeking help from none : 
Life is mostly froth and bubble, 
Two things stand like stone— 
KINDNESS in another’s trouble, 
COURAGE in your own. 
It must be admitted, however, that a large portion of Gordon’s 
verse is inspired by English scenes, sentiment, and associa- 
tions, and the same may be said of that of another poet, 
who is nevertheless to be considered in some degree as 
Australian, his best work having been done in the land of 
his adoption. I refer to Brunton Stephens. For sustained 
power, wealth of polished language, and felicity of diction, 
his longest poem, ‘‘Convict Once,” stands, I think, alone in 
Australasian poetic literature. Local influences may be seen 
in such allusions as— 
Out on the gem-pointed Cross and the glittering pomp of Orion 
Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God, 
but many of his minor pieces are far more thoroughly Australian 
in subject, while several are characterised by a happy vein of 
humour not dissimilar to that of Calverley. Comparisons, I 
believe, have been made between his merits as a poet and those 
of Gordon. None of Gordon’s verse, I think, equals “ Convict 
Once” in fine sustained power, but English literature affords 
many proofs that the briefest emanations of genius, if they 
worthily appeal to human sentiment and feeling, frequently 
secure an enduring fame and popularity denied to apparently 
grander and more ambitious efforts. | Brief and imperfect as this 
notice of our poets must necessarily be, mention must be made of 
one whom Australia can wholly claim as a son, namely, Henry 
Kendall. Imbued with a passionate love for the land of his 
birth, intensely sympathetic with the poetry of nature, especially 
perhaps in her wilder and weirder aspects, and wifted with 
uncommon power of vivid description, Kendall, on his first 
appearance as an author, was quickly recognised as a true 
Australian poet. His name indeed soon became known at home, 
