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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 55

Rule Zealandia

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Rule Zealandia.

When Zealand First to Heaven's command
Rose out the azure main
This was the charter of the land
And angels sang the strain,—
Rule Zealandia. Zealandia rule the deep,
And peace, and plenty, found thee keep

Then harving done they hasted down'
Each with some precious gift,
Each in a working smock or grown,
To give the place a lift.

First they scrap'd the mud away,
The barnacles and weeds,
And all the tangled drift which forms,
When sea from land ascedes.

With fertilising virtue then—
Endow'd the virgin soil,
And climate tempered so suit—
All well directed toil,

Next rarest and selected seed—
From Elen in its prime,
Long pocketed for futre use.
They fossick'd out betime;

And this they sowed the whole laud e'er
To many a sweet sweet son
And soon where once the ocean's roar—
Garlands all thickly hung.

Next of many a wondrous bird—
Preserved since the flood.
Ali careful sat upon and stirr'd,
Till out came and blood.

All this these kindly angels did,
For man as yet unborn,
For us whose destinies yet hid—
The children of the morn.

Then with keen eyes they mounted guard—
Zealandia's shornes about,
To drive all noxious things away,
To keep our foe without.

But angels o'en de sometimes slip,
One cannot always watch,—
Some left their post for cleansing dip,
The rest for a flying mateh;—

Oh mercy what a slip may do,
How gingerly all's hung.
Because they played an hour or two,
Their loving schemes want wrong,

For so alas it same about—
That from their homes exil'd,
Did come thick pack'd in rough dug out
A group men all wilds;

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Quick landed they in warlike guise,
And seized all the land,
By most unfortunate surprise —
Get they the ruling hand.

And soon the hand did flow with blood,
Did stink with heaps of stain,
From every mountain, dale, and wood—
The bowl of rage, and pain,

Where beauteous eyes had look'd their love,
And made the place a heaven,
There man with man all madly strove—
For the warm blood did ravon.

Where oft the dainty feast was made—
Upon ambrosial sweet,
There man on man led murd'rous raid—
To stay hit young tor meat.

Where high, and holy angels ones—
Their erisons did make,
God's images tattoed, and stuff'd
Were cut in junks to bake.

Woe worth the day these angels Stripp'd—
For the hot-water-bath,
Woe worth the day they thoughtless slipp'd
Away from day's path.

Fled they in horror, and in grief—
Unto that burning cone,
Which just taboed by savage chief
Gave them shelter lone.

Clustering round as thick as bees—
They sat the fire-toss'd reek,
Or pereh'd upon the stunted trees
All dazed by the sheek

Then after consultation brief,
Decided they to go,
Decided they in bitter grief—
To give up all below,

So hovering round in widening sweep—
To catch their follows stray'd,
Like swans in column thin but deep.
Back for the heavens they made.

Thus did these angels home-ward go
Tears moist'ning every cheek,
All filled with a silent wee—
Only their looks did speak.

Many a glance was stolen back;
Many a sigh was given,
All stretch'd upon tormenting raek,
Though making straight for heaven.

But are they well had got inside,
A great, voice silence broke,
A voice as of a mighty tide—
Their every ear bespoke.

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A voice which seem'd to have no aim,
Nor yet a skarting place,
But sounded every-where the same,
Through all the realms of space.

A voice of such tremendors power—
Though Seemingly Repress'd
United shout of God and man—
Could not one note arrear.

Yet did itself so modulate
For Each receptive ear,
Twas high, or low, or small, or great,
To every list'ner—clear

And so melodious withall,
So mildly—fondly sweet,
The song birds look it as a call--

Their loved ones to meet
Stay said the great voice—angels stay
Come back for lasting stay
And every star did echo—stay,
All things echoed stay.

Tis I the great voice said tis I
Whom men fo Nature call,
Tis I the God who's always high,
Creator of you all.

I've watch'd you watch'd you at your work,
Watch'd how it seeming failed,
And helped you though nevar ask'd,
The while all thickly veil'd.

Bright angels of heavens heights I grieve—
To see your plans at fault,
But more I grieve to see you leave—
Just at the first assault.

It is not thus great things are done,
Not thus earths advance,
Such goodly thing so well begun,
Misfortune should enhance.

Ah me how history repeats,
There's nothing reaily new,
All seems but echoes of the past,
The beaten path pursue.

To an Eden nigh as fair as this—
Crept in a slimy snake,
Work' havoc with seductive hiss
Then just the same mistake;

Your God as vex'd did furse about,
Did throw the whole thing up,
Turn'd all the population out—
With neither bite or sup.

And lest all this was not enough,
Curs'd He them roundly too,
And curs'd the land with weedy stuff,
Then His stern face withdraw.

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I took vaeated lot in hand
As I'll now take up yours,
I changed its tinsel with my wand—
To what for aye endures.

I took the exiles is hit charge,
For then I tempered all,
I did their every power enlarge
And sertened their fall.

Ah ! tis my province thus to right—
The blunders others make,
This muddling with me to requite,—
By using needful brake.

But all this meddling will not do,
I would be left alone,
I knew my work, and do it too.
And want assistance none.

I may be slow but Ah ! I'm sure,
My work I ne'er repent.
All ills at last I lasting cure,
For this my strength is spent,

My ways are not as God's I m,
Yet they to virtue lead,
My schemes not trump'd from blazon'd throne
Yet do they all succeed.

And I will new in mercy great,
Take this your our scheme in hand,
Those sufferings keen alleviate,
Which curse yon beauteous land.

Turn back with me then angels turn,
Let not your absence damn,
Of me a winning patience learn.
Of me the great I am

Weep with those lovely eyes no more,
Wipe all those tears away,
And I will help you quick restore—
Yon land to gentle away.

These interlopers leave alone,
They'll eat each other out;
Like dogs they'll all fight e'er the boss,
To lose it do not doubt

That race shall come O do not fear,
For whom you've struggled so,
That race for whom such grand career,
At the bare thought I glow.

For the earths are mine to take, or give,
I ask of no one leave—
Nor ask I ought of those who have.
Have that they shall achieve.

My gifts, I rightfully dispose,
I have no favourite,
You beauteous Earth I give to those.
Who'll make the most of it.

To these who strong in virtue, a strength
Would close to wrestle me,
And conquering even here at length,
Stand from last fetter free.

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Mr hand is ever there to guide—
Unte the rightful deed.
And ever is it opened wide,
To give to those who need.

There's not a feather floats the air,
Nor monad rolls its way,
Nor feeblest phosphorescent flare,
But owns my gentle sway.

Yet keep I not to tiny scale—
My every work throughout,
But sometimes I new life exhale,
By snuffing old sans out.

The slaughter of a people's nought,
Of worlds just in their prime,
So that the crash with good be fraught,
I'll do this any time.

Measure me not by man's short reach,
Nor even by your own,
You dwarf yourselves in dwarfing me,
In dwarfing to the known.

For all which yon may knew—conceive,
To the moat distant star,
Is but the tiniest trace believe—
Of all those things which are.

And aye my time is always fill'd—
With some great crowning work,
While to the steady pace long drill'd
I go without a jerk.

I want no sleep, no rest, no break,
On an endless course move I:
To agoal which I may never reach,
Or if I reach I die

For I am only but by change
Even as is life,
Live only but by movements starnge,
By one continual strife

In all created things I live,
Eternal, and Divine,
And 'tis my greatest, joy to give,
To those whose aims are mine,

So this your well selected plot,—
The apple of your eye
Here do I promise doubt me not
Shall with old Eden vie.

Then come along I say again,
Come back to Earth with me,
Come back to sing once mere that strain
For the Nation ye to be.

Boak unto hope and back [unclear: to] joy,
Yon glorious land redgem.
Your time, your skill, your love employ—
To carry out your scheme.

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With Nature's kind assurance given,
Those angels thought awhile,
Then turned they their backs en heaven
And flew for cither Islo.

But hid they first in depths away,
From sight, and sound of man,
All waiting for t hat blessed day—
Thus promis'd them by Pan.

And soon the promise was redeem'd,
Which she so kindly gave,
Soon there the white man thickly stream'd
A civilizing wave.

And soon the missionary came—
With holy fables new,
With charms to save from vengeful flame
Then out these angels flew.

And help'd they all they ever could—
The land from sin redeem,
To free it from the stain of blood,
From violence extreme.

So these good angels never went,
But o'er the land dispers'd,
And every germ of love that's sent,
By them to life is nursed.

There's not a ray from heaven may fall—
Upon a Mortal here,
But strikes upon that living wall—
Built of these angels near.

And as it vibrates grateful through,—
Renews its pristine force
Yet all diffus'd and mellow'd too—
For the onward course,

Where e'er the heart doth pine, and droop—
For something earth above,
Tis there in mass one sees them troop—
By the keen eye of love.

And much they like to be among—
The birds of birds the prime,
For in the sweetly warbled song,—
Their own do fitly chime.

But most they like to hover near—
Where love sots up her throne.
For here they see reflected clear—
A joy which seems their own.

And oft in heavenly pastimes they—
Disport themselves in joy;
And reuse the zophers unto play,
Or with the storm-waves toy.

And dance, and sing they in their glee—
Where Nature toils the cost,
So oft it haps from sea to sea—
The sound of heavenly host.

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And still they sing the self-same song—
They sang in days of yore,
The self-same song the whole day long—
From all their sweet throats pour.