Voice of Conscience

by Arthur or Spencer Trimmer

Suddenly he starts, arising from the dead

The ghost of Yagan stands, without a head!

And thus addressed him in a guttural note,

His voice proceeding from this severed throat:

"Squatter! What brought thee here?

Did hapless woe, or vile ambition teach

Thy steps to rove? Or worse than these

The cursed love of gold, alike the idol of the young and old,

That crowns the sovereign, forms the noble star,

Gilds the child's gingerbread, and glittering far

Controls each circumstance of peace and war,

And adorns the trappings of the bold hussar,

Send thee, a sordid wanderer to a barren land

Of rock and stone, or iron-stone and sand?

On the Swan's banks shall rise no future home

Nor these light sands support one splendid dome,

On our rude mountains little else appears,

Than man, and wood, the native and his spears."