Tells the mighty, who, like ocean,
Whelm the native stream, how they
First in far dim days' commotion,
Wrestling, fought for empire's sway.

Hear the sad cascade, ere ever
Sinks in rising tides its moan,
True may be the tale, though never
By the victor ocean known.

Now the chant rings softly, finding
Freedom as the sea retires;
Loudly now, through spray-tears blinding
Throb and thunder silver lyres;

Silenced when the strong sea-water
To its great' heart, limitless,
Rising, takes the valley's daughter,
Soothes the song of her distress.


UGONDE'S TALE.

For a while the salt brine leaves me
O'er my terraced rocks to fall,
And my broad swift-gliding waters
Olden memories recall.

Ere the tallest pines were seedlings
With my life-stream these were blent;