Lo! Delphi, where in darkness sat The sacred priestess, while in wrath ’Mid clouds of incense serpent wound The Oracle would issue forth. Oh! Athena, the “violet crowned,” Thy crystal founts and cypress groves, Where Daphne and Minerva walked, Leave but memory of their loves. AURELLE. I would frame a lyric sweet To ma belle Aurelle; Tresses rippling to her feet, Laughing lips as well. She hath hands as lilies pure, Head of beauty’s mould, Eyes like great brown pools so clear, Sparkling depths enfold. On a grassy knoll she stands, Clasping wattle bloom-- Golden flower of Austral’s lands, With its rich perfume. Roses grace her cheeks so fair, And she knoweth well That she doth my heart ensnare-- Ma belle Aurelle. And she singeth like a bird At heaven’s gate, When its swelling notes are stirred By its mate. And I know that Cupid’s dart-- Sharp, yet slender-- Some fine day will pierce her heart, Oh, so tender. But this stately maid of mine Loveth none as me: For her summers are but nine-- Aurelle mine, you see! THE TALE OF THE GREAT WHITE PLAINS. Day by day and night by night, Till the great white plains in sight-- Speeds the “Terra Nova” on; Britain’s laurels must be won, So they press to reach their goal: Point they to the Southern Pole. What a tale thou dost unfold, Far surpassing deeds of old. Shades of Spartan heroes these Mightier see in southern seas, Mountain pillars gleaming white In the lone Antarctic night. Dazzling peaks, all tempest riven; Shrouded ghosts, which gaze at heaven: There, majestic, grand and free, Towering o’er that frigid sea, Terror, Erebus, look down From their smouldering fiery throne. Sunken eyes and cheeks so pale, Still the stout hearts do not quail, Though they pay a heavy toll Yet, at length, they reach the Pole. Lo! The Union Jack unfurled, Britain’s finger leads the world. Glory gained, they may not stay, There is danger in delay. Back o’er that wide trackless plain, Mighty Scott with all his train Passed, while death the white steed rode Side by side the way they trode, Through the blizzard’s freezing blast. Will he claim his prey at last? Buoyed with thoughts of northern skies Oft’ their drooping spirits rise. Where fond loved ones’ hopes and fears Mingle with their prayers and tears-- So they struggle weakly on, Strength and courage almost gone. On, until with grief they find Evans they must leave behind. Ah! The other hut in view, Will they see the blizzard through? Yes! The camp at last they reach Cold exhaustion numbing speech, And brave Oates! Oh! Gallant heart, Nobly doth he take his part