THE CONVICT. 



61 



By the Rt. Rev. Bishop Mercer, of Tasmania. 



"Those ircns you show, prospeclor, 



Are surely convict brand." 

 " You're right," replied the bushman, 



The^■'ve fettered hand to hand. 



" But guess you where I found them^ 

 Ah ! that's the strangest hap ! 



Aloft upon a shoulder, 



Of famous Frenchman's Cap. 



" I left Macquarie Harbour, 

 And forced my tortuous way 



Through densest' scrub, and waded 

 The swamps that interlay. 



"And after weeks of toiling, 

 I gained the Frenchman's flank, 



And climbed for wider pros]iect— 

 And found these links 1 clank." 



"How weird!" 1 cried. "Some bush- 

 man — 



A wanderer like you— 

 Had carried them far inland, 



And did not bring them through." 



The leading of the possible. 



My hasty guess condones ; 

 But startling came correction — 



" 1 found them on the bones." 



The story stirred emotion. 



Man's witless cruelty 

 Must cause the fiends to wonder, 



The de\irs self to sigh. 



Perchance an untrained passion. 

 Had failed its bounds to keep. 



More likely he, a-hungered. 

 Had stol'n a lordling's sheep. 



The waste of it ! A hero 



With thews of tempered steel, 



With hope that blazed till Nature 

 Had quenched its lone appeal. 



/\. heart that yearned for freedom, 



A heart that could rebel, 

 Though gaolers strove to crush it, 



And caged it in a hell. 



Just picture it ! The ])lanning — 

 The leg-irons somehow stripped — 



Too strong to smash, those wristdinks, 

 loo narrow to be slipped. 



The dash to gain the co\er — 

 The strenuous onward push — 



The trackless, foodless wanderings — 

 The silence ot the bush 



But why ascend the mountain, 

 W'hen near his struggle's end — 



When sinking strength would warn him 

 He never could descend ? 



Perhaps 1 understand him— 



\ dazed desire to die. 

 Above the barrier tree-tops, 



Beneath the open sky. 



And there his bones lay bleaching. 



L')), free, on skyward bed ; 

 Thougii manacles still bound him. 



Their hated power was dead. 



Ah, Britain, learn the lesson ! 



And guard the force sublime. 

 That mightier is than riches 



To speed the better time. 



