Topic I: Quest for Identity and National Beginnings
A. American Experience
The English were not the first in America. It was the Spanish, after all, who, in 1492, had commissioned the Genoa-born Christoforo Colombo (or known as Christopher Columbus in English) to seek out a westerly route to the East Indies. His discovery of the New World was a happy accident. The continent itself was named after the Italian navigator Amerigo Vespucci. Ironically, though, Columbus never knew what he had actually found. Until his death, he refused to accept the truth that it was ‘A merica’. He was of an idea that all the new land he encountered was merely the outer reaches of Asia. However, this discovery marks the colonization of America by European countries.
When James I (or James VI of Scotland who had been chosen by Elizabeth to succeed her) was King (1603-1625) the Puritans were often put in prison and sometimes even killed. The conflict also assumed a political character: between parliament and King, between Liberty and Autocracy. Some of the Puritans decided to leave England to find freedom in a new country. They sailed from Plymouth in 1620 in a ship called the ‘Mayflower’, and these ‘Pilgrim Fathers’—as they were called—started a new life in America. The service which they held to thank God for their arrival, became a traditional annual festival in America called ‘Thanksgiving’.
England made its first successful colonization in the early 17th century, and the first successful colony was established in Jamestown in 1607, and these colonies finally got their independence from Britain after the war of independence between 1775—83.
The early literature in American colonial time was mainly made by immigrants from England, and, therefore, the poems that were produced were much influenced by the English writing tradition to address the subject matter confronted in a strange, new environment. As the country developed, there were also poems which discussed different aspects of American life and nature.
Anne Bradstreet (c. 1612 – September 16, 1672) was an English-American writer, the first notable English-American poet, and the first woman to be published in Colonial America. Her work was very influential to Puritans in her time.
On July 10, 1666, her home burned down in a fire along with her personal library of books. This event w hich left the family homeless and in poverty inspired a poem entitled "Upon the Burning of Our House July 10th, 1666". She rejects the anger and grief that this worldly tragedy has caused her and instead looks toward God and the assurance of heaven as consolation.
Much of Bradstreet's poetry is based on observation of the world around her, focusing heavily on domestic and religious themes. Despite the traditional attitude toward women of the time, she clearly valued knowledge and intellect; she was a free thinker and some consider her an early feminist. (Adapted from Highlights of American Literature, p.6)
To my Dear and Loving Husband
I f ever t wo wer e one, t hen sur ely we1). I f ever man wer e loved by wif e, t hen t hee; I f ever wif e was happy in a man,
Compar e wit h me, ye women, if you can.
I pr ize t hy love mor e t han whole Mines of gold 05 Or all t he r iches t hat t he East2) dot h hold.
Nor ought3) but love f r om t hee, give r ecompense. Thy love is such I can no way r epay,
The heavens r ewar d t hee manif old, I pr ay. 10 Then while we live, in love let ' s so per sever e4)
That when we live no mor e, we may live ever .
Vocabulary:
1) Anne's husband was Simon Bradstreet (1603-97). They were married in England in 1628. 2) East Indies.
3) an archaic word meaning “ anything whatever” 4) likely accented on the second syllable
Upon t he Bur ning of Our House, J uly 18t h, 1666
I n silent night when r est I t ook, For sor r ow near I did not look, I waken' d was wit h t hundr ing nois And Pit eous shr eiks of dr eadf ull voice.
That f ear f ull sound of “Fir e!” and “Fir e!”, 05 Let no man know is my Desir e.
I , st ar t ing up, t he light did spye, And t o my God my hear t did cr y To st r engt hen me in my Dist r esse
And not t o leave me succour lesse. 10 Then coming out beheld a space,
The f lame consume my dwelling place. And, when I could no longer look, I blest his Name t hat gave and t ook,
That layd my goods now in t he dust : 15 Yea so it was, and so ' t was j ust .
I t was his own: it was not mine; Far be it t hat I should r epine. He might of All j ust ly ber ef t ,
But yet suf f icient f or us lef t . 20 When by t he Ruines of t I past ,
My sor r owing eyes aside did cast , And her e and t her e t he places spye Wher e of t I sat e, and long did lye.
Her e st ood t hat Tr unk, and t her e t hat chest ; 25 Ther e lay t hat st or e I count ed best :
My pleasant t hings in ashes lye, And t hem behold no mor e shall I . Under t hy r oof no guest shall sit t ,
Nor at t hy Table eat a bit t . 30 No pleasant t ale shall ' er e be t old,
Nor t hings r ecount ed done of old. No Candle ' er e shall shine in Thee,
Nor br idegr oom' s voice er e hear d shall bee.
Then st r eight I gin my hear t t o chide, And didst t hy wealt h on ear t h abide? Didst f ix t hy hope on mouldr ing dust ,
The ar m of f lesh didst make t hy t r ust ? 40 Raise up t hy t hought s above t he skye
That dunghill mist s away may f lie. Thou hast an house on high er ect Fr am' d by t hat might y Ar chit ect ,
Wit h glor y r ichly f ur nished, 45 St ands per manent t ho' t his bee f led.
I t ' s pur chased, and paid f or t oo By him who hat h enough t o doe. A Pr ise so vast as is unknown,
Yet , by his Gif t , is made t hine own. 50 Ther ' s wealt h enough, I need no mor e;
Far ewell my Pelf2), f ar ewell my St or e. The wor ld no longer let me Love, My hope and Tr easur e lyes Above.
Vocabulary:
1) French for “ goodbye” 2) A contemptuous term for wealth
Edward Taylor's tombstone, Westfield, M A.
Just like many other earlier colonial poets, Edward Taylor— an immigrant who was born in 1642?-1729 in Leicestershire—was influenced by his life-experiences in England. He landed in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in America in 1668.
Although the writings of the American colonial poets were much influenced by the English tradition, Taylor is believed to be “ the only known American poet who wrote in the metaphysical style” (Wikipedia, 2010:p.2). Furthermore, Wikipedia (2010:p.3) explains that in his poem "Huswifery", he “ talks about God's Word and holiness”. Here, the invented speaker “ wants to be like a spinning wheel and equates godliness with the work of this machine”. Taylor equates “ personal traits of holiness” with “ wearing clothes”. In his second poem to be discussed here, "Upon a Spider Catching a Fly", Taylor compares the spider to “ the devil who traps the fly which is equated to man. Also says the mercy of God saves” (Wikipedia, 2010:p.3).
Later until his death, Taylor spent most of his life serving in “ the wilderness as minister, doctor, farmer, strategist to prevent Indian attacks, and poet” (Edwardtaylor.poetry.php.htm, 2010:p.3)
Huswif er y1)
Make me, O Lor d, t hy Spinning Wheel compleat e2). Thy Holy Wor d my Dist af f make f or me. Make mine3) Af f ect ions4) t hy Swif t Flyer s neat
And make my soul t hy holy Spool t o be.
Make me t hy Loom t hen, knit t her ein t his Twine: And make t hy Holy Spir it , Lor d, winde quills5): Then weave t he Web6) t hyself . The yar n is f ine.
Thine Or dinances7) make my Fulling Mills8). 10 Then dye t he same in Heavenly Color s Choice.
All pinkt9) wit h var nished10) Flower s of Par adise.
Then clot he t her ewit h mine Under st anding, W ill, Af f ect ions, J udgment , Conscience, Memor y,
My wor ds and Act ions, t hat t heir shine may f ill 15 My ways wit h glor y and t hee glor if y.
Then mine appar el shall display bef or e ye That I am Clot hed in Holy r obes f or glor y.
Vocabulary:
1) housewifery; the work of a housewife. Also thrift, making the most of something 2) fully equipped; without defect 3) my
4) emotions
5) fill spools with thread or yarn
6) cloth 7) sacraments
8) mills where cloth is beaten and cleaned 9) adorned, shining
10) bright, shinning
Upon A Spider Cat ching A Fly
Thou sor r ow, venom Elf e. I s t his t hy play,
To spin a web out of t hyself e To cat ch a Fly?
For Why 05
I saw a pet t ish1) wasp Fall f oule t her ein.
Whom yet t hy Whor le2) pins did not clasp Lest he should f ling
His st ing. 10
But as af f r aid, r emot e Didst st and her eat
And wit h t hy lit t le f inger s st r oke And gent ly t ap
His back . 15
Thus gent ly him didst t r eat e Lest he should pet3),
And in a f r oppish4), waspish heat e Should gr eat ly f r et5)
Wher eas t he silly Fly, Caught by it s leg
Thou by t he t hr oat e t ookst hast ily And ' hinde t he head
Bit e Dead. 25
This goes t o pot6), t hat not Nat ur e clot h call.
St r ive not above what st r engt h hat h got Lest in t he br awle
Thou f all. 30
This Fr ey7) seems t hus t o us. Hells Spider get s
His int r ails spun t o whip Cor ds8) t hus And wove t o net s
And set s. 35
To t angle Adams r ace I n' s st r at igems
To t heir Dest r uct ions, spoil' d, made base By venom t hings
Damn' d Sins. 40
But might y, Gr acious Lor d Communicat e
Thy Gr ace t o br eake t he Cor d, af f or d Us Glor ys Gat e
And St at e. 45
We' l Night ingaile sing like When pear cht on high I n Glor ies Cage, t hy glor y, br ight ,
And t hankf ully,
For j oy. 50
Vocabulary
: 1) ill-humored2) part of a spinning wheel 3) take offense, react negatively 4) fretful
5) destroy
6) put up, preserve
7) (fray), alarm, terror; assault 8) thin, tough hempen cord
Phillis Wheatley (1753 – December 5, 1784) was the first African American poet and the first African-American woman whose writings were published. Born in Gambia, Senegal, she was enslaved at age seven. She was purchased by the Wheatley family of Boston, who taught her to read and write, and helped encourage her poetry.
Wheatley's poetry overwhelmingly revolves around Christian themes, with many poems dedicated to famous personalities. Over one-third consist of elegies, the remainder being on religious, classical, and abstract themes.[3] She rarely mentions her own situation in her poems. One of the few which refers to slavery is "On being brought from Africa to America":
She is known to use three different elements to create make her poetry meaningful: Christianity, classicism, and hierophantic solar w orship. The use of classicism and Christianity do not only combine to make the structure of Wheatley’s work completely pagan or Christian due to a third element used in her poetry, hierophantic solar worship (Shields 103). The hierophantic solar worship is what she brought with her from Africa; this is the worship of sun gods (depicting her African culure). This idea of the sun worship is significant due to the fact that her parents were sun worshipers. This is also why she refers to the different words for sun so many times. The word “ Aurora appears eight times, Apollo seven, Phoebus twelve, and Sol twice” (Shields 103). The word light is of high importance to her, because it marks her history. Therefore the significance of her writing about it alludes to the past which she has left behind. But creating these experiences for the reader gives her work an emotional appeal that captures her readers.
But remembering that the word Sun can also be written as Son is important, inflicting a pun on the son of Christ which alludes to her biblical ideas of writing (Shields 103). Other biblical references include the references to muses.
Adapted from Wikipadea/ Phillis_Wheatley.htm
To His Excellency Gener al W ashingt on
Celest ial choir ! ent hr on' d in r ealms of light , Columbia’s1) scenes of glor ious t oils2) I wr it e. While f r eedom’s cause her anxious br east alar ms, She f lashes dr eadf ul in r ef ulgent3) ar ms.
See mot her ear t h her of f spr ing’s f at e bemoan, 05 And nat ions gaze at scenes bef or e unknown!
See t he br ight beams of heaven’s r evolving light I nvolved in sor r ows and t he veil of night !
The goddess comes, she moves divinely f air ,
Olive and laur el4) binds her golden hair : 10 Wher ever shines t his nat ive of t he skies,
Unnumber ’d char ms and r ecent gr aces r ise. Muse5)! bow pr opit ious while my pen r elat es How pour her ar mies t hr ough a t housand gat es,
As when Eolus6) heaven’s f air f ace def or ms, 15 Enwr app’d in t empest and a night of st or ms;
Ast onish’d ocean f eels t he wild upr oar , The r ef luent7) sur ges beat t he sounding shor e; Or t hick as leaves in Aut umn’s golden r eign,
Such, and so many, moves t he war r ior ’s t r ain. 20 I n br ight ar r ay t hey seek t he wor k of war ,
Wher e high unf ur l’d t he ensign8) waves in air . Shall I t o Washingt on t heir pr aise r ecit e? Enough t hou9) know’st t hem in t he f ields of f ight .
The gr ace and glor y of t hy mar t ial band. Fam’d f or t hy valour , f or t hy vir t ues mor e, Hear ever y t ongue t hy guar dian aid implor e!
One cent ur y space per f or m’d it s dest ined r ound,
When Gallic10)power s Columbia’s f ur y f ound: 30 And so may you, whoever dar es disgr ace
The land of f r eedom’s heaven-def ended r ace! Fix’d ar e t he eyes of nat ions on t he scales11), For in t heir hopes Columbia’s ar ms pr evails.
Anon Br it annia12) dr oops t he pensive head, 35 While r ound incr ease t he r ising hills of dead.
Ah! cr uel blindness t o Columbia’s st at e!
Lament t hy t hir st of boundless power t oo lat e. Pr oceed gr eat chief , wit h vir t ue on t hy side,
Thy ev’r y act ion let t he goddess guide. 40 A cr own, a mansion. and a t hr one t hat shine,
Wit h gold unf ading, W ASHI NGTON! be t hine.
Vocabulary:
1) America (Columbia) is personified as a woman 2) efforts, refers to the war’s battles
3) rediant
4) (olive branch) symbolizes peace and laurel symbolizes achievement (ancient Olympic winners received laurel wreaths)
5) one of the nine goddesses presiding over literature, the arts, and the sciences 6) in Greek mythology, the god of the winds
7) ebbing; flowing back 8) flag
9) you ( and thee as the object form of ‘thou’), refers to not only the British, but to any power or force that might attempt to defy American Independence
10) French, the poet is referring to the victory of the colonists in the French and Indian War 11) The scales of justice (metaphor)
12) England
On Being Br ought Fr om Af r ica To Amer ica
‘Twas mer cy br ought me f r om my Pagan land, Taught my benight ed soul t o under st and That t her e’s a God, t hat t her e’s a Saviour t oo: Once I r edempt ion neit her sought nor knew, Some view our sable r ace wit h scor nf ul eye, “Their colour is a diabolic dye.”
Remember , Chr ist ians, Negr oes1), black as Cain2), May be r ef ined, and j oin t h’ angelic t r ain.
Vocabulary:
1) blackPhilip Morin Freneau (January 2, 1752 – December 18, 1832) was a notable American poet, nationalist, polemicist, sea captain and newspaper editor sometimes called the "Poet of the American Revolution".
Freneau was born in New York City, the oldest of the five children of Huguenot wine merchant Pierre Fresneau and his Scottish wife. Philip was raised in Monmouth County, New Jersey where he studied under William Tennent, Jr. He entered the College of New Jersey, now Princeton University, as a sophomore in 1768 to study for the ministry.
The non-political works of Freneau are a combination of neoclassicism and romanticism. His poem "The House of Night" makes its mark as one of the first romantic poems written and published in America. The gothic elements and dark imagery are later seen in poetry by Edgar A llan Poe, who is well known for his gothic works of literature. Freneau's nature poem, "The Wild Honey Suckle" (1786), is considered an early seed to the later Transcendentalist movement taken up by William Cullen Bryant, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau. Romantic primitivism is also anticipated by his poems "The Indian Burying Ground," and "Noble Savage."
“ The Wild Honey Suckle” was virtually unread in the poet’s lifetime, yet it deserves a place among major English and American works of poetry at that time. This nature lyric is the first to give lyrical expression to American nature. The idea for “ The Indian Burying Ground” was suggested by that fact that some Indian tribes buried their died in a sitting, instead of lying, position. This poem is marked by the use of “ Reason” as an abstraction which is personified. (A dapted from Philip Freneau-Poem and Biography by AmericanPoem.com, W ikipeadia & Highlights of American Literature, p.29)
The Wild Honey Suckle
Fair f lower , t hat does so comely gr ow, Hid in t his silent , dull r et r eat ,
Unt ouched t hy honied blossoms blow, Unseen t hy lit t le br anches gr eet ;
No r oving f oot shall cr ush t hee her e, 05 No busy hand pr ovoke a t ear .
By Nat ur e’s self in whit e ar r ayed, She bade t hee shun t he vulgar eye, And plant ed her e t he guar dian shade,
And sent sof t wat er s mur mur ing by; 10 Thus quiet ly t hy summer goes,
Thy days declining t o r epose.
Smit wit h t hose char ms, t hat must decay, I gr ieve t o see your f ut ur e doom;
They died—nor wer e t hose f lower s mor e gay, 15 The f lower s t hat did in Eden1) bloom;
Fr om mor ning suns and evening dews
At f ir st t hy lit t le being came: 20 I f not hing once, you not hing lose,
For when you die you ar e t he same; The space bet ween, is but an hour , The f r ail dur at ion of a f lower .
Vocabulary:
1) Eden: garden that was the home of the first man and woman, Adam and Eva, as told in the Book of Genesis of the English Bible.
The I ndian Bur ying Gr ound Published in 1788, this poem is the earliest to romanticize the I ndian as a child of nature.
I n spit e of all t he lear ned have said, I st ill my old opinion keep; The post ur e, t hat we give t he dead,
Point s out t he soul’s et er nal sleep.
Not so t he ancient s of t hese lands— 05 The I ndian, when f r om lif e r eleased,
Again is seat ed wit h his f r iends. And shar es again t he j oyous f east1).
His imaged bir ds, and paint ed bowl,
And venison, f or a 1j our ney dr essed, 10 Bespeak t he nat ur e of t he soul,
Act ivit y, t hat knows no r est .
His bow, f or act ion r ead bent , And ar r ows, wit h a head of st one,
Can only mean t hat lif e is spent , 15 And not t he old ideas gone.
Thou, st r anger , t hat shalt come t his way, No f r aud upon t he dead commit — Obser ve t he swelling t ur f , and say
They do not lie, but her e t hey sit . 20
Her e st ill a lof t y r ock r emains, On which t he cur ious eye may t r ace (Now wast ed, half , by wear ing r ains)
The f ancies of a r uder r ace.
Her e st ill an aged elm aspir es, 25 Beneat h whose f ar -pr oj ect ing shade
Ther e of t a r est less I ndian queen
(Pale Shebah2), wit h her br aided hair ) 30 And many a bar bar ous f or m is seen
To chide t he man t hat linger s t her e.
By midnight moons, o’er moist ening dews; I n habit f or t he chase ar r ayed,
The hunt er st ill t he deer pur sues, 35 The hunt er and t he deer , a shade!
And long shall t imor ous f ancy see The paint ed chief , and point ed spear , And Reason’s self shall bow t he knee
To shadows and delusions her e. 40
Note:
1. feast—“ The north American Indians bury their dead in a sitting posture decorating the corpse with wampum, the images of birds, quadrapeds, etc., and (if that of a warrior) with bows, arrows, tomahawks, and other military weapons,” (Freneau’s note)
2. Shebah—queen of an ancient country in southern Arabia.
William Cullen Bryant (November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878) was an American romantic poet, journalist, and long-time editor of the New York Evening Post. He was born on November 3, 1794, in a log cabin near Cummington, Massachusetts; the home of his birth is today marked with a plaque. He was the second son of Peter Bryant, a doctor and later a state legislator, and Sarah Snell. His maternal ancestry traces back to passengers on the M ayflower; his father's, to colonists who arrived about a dozen years later.
Bryant and his family moved to a new home when he was two years old. The William Cullen Bryant Homestead, his boyhood home, is now a museum. After just two years at Williams College, he studied law in Worthington and Bridgewater in Massachusetts, and he was admitted to the bar in 1815. He then began practicing law in nearby Plainfield, walking the seven miles from Cummington every day. On one of these walks, in December 1815, he noticed a single bird flying on the horizon; the sight moved him enough to write "To a Waterfow l". Here, he uses the bird to reflect his personal perspective.
To A W at er f owl
Whit her , midst f alling dew,
While glow t he heavens wit h t he last st eps of day. Far , t hr ough t heir r osy dept hs, dost t hou pur sue
Thy solit ar y way?
Vainly t he f owler ’s1) eye 05
Might mar k t hy dist ant f light t o do t hr ee wr ong, As dar kly seen against t he cr imson sky,
Thy f igur e f loat s along.
Seek’st t hou t he plashy2) br ink
Of weedy lake, or mar ge oi r iver wide, 10 Or wher e t he r ocking billows r ise and sink
On t he chaf ed ocean-side?
Ther e is a Power whose car e
Teaches t hy way along t hat pat hless coast —
The deser t and illimit able air — 15 Lone wander ing, but not lost .
All day t hy wings have f anned,
At t hat f ar height , t he cold, t hin at mospher e, Yet st oop not , wear y, t o t he welcome land,
Though t he dar k night is near . 20
And soon t hat t oil shall end;
Soon shalt t hou f ind a summer home, and r est , And scr eam among t hy f ellows; r eeds shall bend,
Soon, o’er t hy shelt er ed nest .
Thou’r t gone, t he abyss of heaven 25 Hat h swallowed up t hy f or m; yet , on my hear t
Deeply has sunk t he lesson t hou hast given, And shall not soon depar t .
He who, f r om zone t o zone,
Guides t hr ough t he boundless sky t hy cer t ain f light . 30 I n t he long way t hat I must t r ead alone,
Will lead my st eps ar ight .
Vocabulary:
Walter Whitman (May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892) was an American poet, essayist, journalist, and humanist. He was a part of the transition between Transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works. Whitman is among the most influential poets in the American canon, often called the father of free verse. His work was very controversial in its time, particularly his poetry collection Leaves of Grass (1855) with his own money, which was described as obscene for its overt sexuality.
Born on Long Island, Whitman worked as a journalist, a teacher, a government clerk, and a volunteer nurse during the American Civil War in addition to publishing his poetry. After a stroke towards the end of his life, he moved to Camden, New Jersey where his health further declined. He died at age 72 (1892) and his funeral became a public spectacle. Whitman was concerned with politics throughout his life. He supported the Wilmot Proviso and opposed the extension of slavery generally. His poetry presented an egalitarian view of the races, and at one point he called for the abolition of
slavery, but later he saw the abolitionist movement as a threat to democracy. In “ For You O Democracy” , Whitman shows his patriotic feelings towards his country. (Adapated from Wikipedia, 2009:par.1—3)
For You O Democr acy
Come, I will make t he cont inent indissoluble,
I will make t he most splendid r ace t he sun ever shone upon, I will make divine magnet ic lands,
Wit h t he love of comr ades,
Wit h t he lif e-long love of comr ades. 05
I will plant companionship t hick as t r ees along all t he r iver s of Amer ica, and along t he shor es of t he gr eat lakes, and all over t he pr air ies
I will make insepar able cit ies wit h t heir ar ms about each ot her ’s necks, By t he love of comr ades,
By t he manly love of comr ades. 10
For you t hese f r om me, O Democr acy, t o ser ve you ma f emme! For you, f or you I am t r illing t hese songs.
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet born in San Fransisco, California and died in Boston. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.[1] This makes him classified as a pastoral poet. His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. A popular and often-quoted poet, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry.
Gif t Out r ight
The land was our s bef or e we wer e t he land’s. She was our land mor e t han a hundr ed year s Bef or e we wer e her people. She was our s I n Massachuset t s, in Vir ginia,
But we wer e England’s, st ill colonials,
Possessing what we st ill wer e unpossessed by, Possessed by what we now no mor e possessed. Somet hing we wer e wit hholding made us weak Unt il we f ound out t hat it was our selves We wer e wit hholding f r om our land of living, And f or t hwit h f ound salvat ion in sur r ender . Such as we wer e we gave our selves out r ight (The deed of gif t was many deeds of war ) To t he land vaguely r ealizing west war d, But st ill unst or ied, ar t less, unenhanced, Such as she was, such as she would become.
The first inaugural poet, Robert Frost, recited “ The Gift Outright” for John F. Kennedy in 1961.
B. Australian Experience
from the citizens. This overcrowded population was a menace to the city life,
which was, among other things, responsible for the emergence of many
crime-ridden areas. Meanwhile, laws were harsh and many people were imprisoned for
trivial offences. Prisons were overcrowded and sometimes the hulks of old ships
were used as gaols. The British government thought that New Holland, as
Australia was then called, might be a suitable place to establish a penal
settlement, and hoped that one day it might become a rich colony. In 1788, a
convict fleet was sent to Botany Bay under the command of Captain Arthur
Phillip.
Prior to Phillip’ s arrival in Australia, in 1768 the British Government sent
a scientific party to the Pacific Ocean in HMS
Endeavour
, commanded by James
Cook. Cook’s instructions were to observe an eclipse of the sun by Venus then
explore the coastlines of the south lands. For two years Cook carefully charted
the islands of New Zealand. In 1770 he explored the east coast of Australia as far
north as Cape York, w here he claimed possession of the land for King George III.
He called it New South Wales. Australia was at last to be conquered and
‘civilized’
Early Verse: the 1780s--the 1800s
The following texts are `broadside ballads' - that is poems or songs that were printed on large sheets of paper and sold very cheaply in the streets and other public places of Britain from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries. Broadsides, or 'street-ballads' as they are sometimes termed, carried Out many of the functions of the newspaper and, indeed, were
the direct predecessors of that media form. Composed by usually anonymous literary `hacks' writing at speed and for an audience apparently hungry for the lurid, the broadsides carried usually sensational stories in verse about murders, robberies, rapes, scandals, politics and other topical concerns. Often the seller of the broadsides would sing them to folk and popular tunes and many broadsides passed into oral circulation, still being collected from singers even in recent years. Although this does not seem to have happened to the following texts, they are good examples of the popular attitudes prevalent at the time
that New South Wales was being developed as a penal settlement, from 1788.
Bot any Bay, A New Song (Anonymous)
Let us dr ink a good healt h t o our schemer s above, Who at lengt h have cont r ived f r om t his land t o r emove Thieves, r obber s and villains, t hey’ll send ‘em away, To become a new people at Bot any Bay.
They’ll spend all t hey get , and t ur n night int o day, Now I ’d have all such sot s t o Bot any Bay.
Ther e’s gay powder ’d coxcombs and pr oud dr essy f ops,
Who wit h ver y small f or t unes set up in gr eat shops, 10 They’ll r un int o debt wit h design ne’er t o pay,
They should all be t r anspor t ed t o Bot any Bay.
The t r adesmen who play at car ds, billiar ds and dice, Must pay f or t heir goods an ext r avagant pr ice,
No f ait h I ’m mist aken such r ogues never pay, 15 Ther ef or e t hey should all go t o Bot any Bay.
Many men t hey ar e mar r ied t o good-nat ur ’d wives, They’ll r un af t er wenches and lead debauch’d lives; Our wise legislat ur e should send such away,
To suppor t t heir syst em in Bot any Bay. 20
Ther e’s night -walking st r umpet s who swar ms in each st r eet Pr oclaiming t heir calling t o each man t hey meet ;
They become such a pest t hat wit hout delay,
These cor r upt er s of yout h should be sent t o Bot any Bay.
Ther e’s monopoliser s who add t o t heir st or e, 25 By cr uel oppr ession and squeezing t he poor ,
Ther e’s but cher s and f ar mer s get r ich quick in t hat way, But I ’d have all such r ogues sent t o Bot any Bay.
We’ve gr eat men above and gent r y below,
They’ll t alk much of honour , and make a gr eat show, 30 But yet never t hink t heir poor t r adesmen t o pay,
Such def ault er s I ’d have sent t o Bot any Bay.
You lecher ous whor emast er s who pr act ise vile ar t s To r uin young vir gins and br eak par ent s hear t s,
Or f r om t he f ond husband t he wif e leads ast r ay, 35 Let such debauch’d st allions be sent t o Bot any Bay.
And t hat we may sweep our f oul nat ion quit e clean, Send of f t he shop-t ax pr omot er s1) so mean, And t hose who depr ive t he light of t he day,
Should wor k f or a br eakf ast at Bot any Bay. 40
The hulks and t he j ails had some t housands in st or e, But out of t he j ails ar e t en t housand t imes mor e, Who live by f r aud, cheat ing, vile t r icks, and f oul play, They should all be sent over t o Bot any Bay.
To such I have only t his one wor d t o say, Ther e ar e all welcome t o wear it at Bot any Bay.
1)
the shop-tax promoters -
a reference to the tax on shops and windows
proposed by the government of William Pitt, the younger.
Bot any Bay (Anonymous)
Away wit h t hese whimsical bubbles of air Which only excit e a moment ar y st ar e; At t ent ion t o plant s of ut ilit y pay, Weigh anchor , and st eer f or Bot any Bay.
Let no-one t hink much of a t r if ling expense, 05 Who knows what may happen a hundr ed year s hence? The loss of Amer ica what can r epay?
New colonies seek f or at Bot any Bay.
O’er Nept une’s domain, how ext ensive t he scope,
Of quickly r et ur ning, how def iant t he hope. 10 The Capes must be doubled, and t hen bear away
Thr ee t housand good leagues t o r each Bot any Bay.
Of t hose pr ecious souls who f or nobody car e, I t seems a lar ge car go t he kingdom can spar e,
To ship of f a gr oss or t wo, make no delay, 15 They cannot t oo soon go t o Bot any Bay.
They go t o an island t o t ake per sonal char ge, Much war mer t han Br it ain, and t en t imes as lar ge, No cust om-house dut y, no f r eight age t o pay,
And t ax f r ee t hey live when at Bot any Bay. 20
This gar den of Eden, t his new pr omised land, The t ime t o set sail f or will soon be at hand;
Ye wor st of land of land-lubber s make r eady f or sea, Ther e’s r oom f or you all about Bot any Bay.
For a gener al good make a gener al sweep, 25 The beaut y of lif e in good or der t o keep,
Wit h night -pr owling hat ef ul dist ur ber s away, And send t he whole t r ibe unt o Bot any Bay.
Ye chief s who go out on t his naval exploit ,
The wor k t o accomplish, and set mat t er s r ight , 30 To I r eland be kind, call at Cor k on your way,
And t ake some Whit e Boys1) unt o Bot any Bay.
Fair and f ir m may be kept ever y nat ional t ie,
And mut ual conf idence may t hose who bet r ay 35 Be sent t o t he bot t om of Bot any Bay.
1)
White Boys -
Irish anti-English agitators
Convict Poetry and SongThe ballad "The Female Transport" takes the theme of transportation to penal settlements in NSW and Van Diemen's Land, as Tasmania was known at the time. Many such ballads were produced and a number of them are still collected from traditional singers in Australia, Britain and elsewhere.
The Female Tr anspor t (Anonymous)
Come all young gir ls, bot h f ar and near , and list en unt o me, While unt o you I do unf old what pr oved my dest iny, My mot her died when I was young, it caused me t o deplor e, And I did get my way t oo soon upon my nat ive shor e.
Sar ah Collins is my name, most dr eadf ul is my f at e, 05 My f at her r ear ed me t ender ly, t he t r ut h I do r elat e,
Till ent iced by bad company along wit h many mor e, I t led t o my discover y upon my nat ive shor e.
My t r ial it appr oached f ast , bef or e t he j udge I st ood,
And when t he j udge’s sent ence passed it f air ly chilled my blood, 10 Cr ying, ‘You must be t r anspor t ed f or f our t een year s or mor e,
And go f r om hence acr oss t he seas unt o Van Diemen’s shor e.’
I t hur t my hear t when on a coach I my nat ive t own passed by; To see so many I did know, it made me heave a sigh;
Then t o a ship was sent wit h speed along wit h many mor e, 15 Whose aching hear t s did gr ieve t o go unt o Van Diemen’s shor e.
The sea was r ough, r an mount ains high, wit h us poor gir ls ‘t was har d, No one hut God t o us came nigh, no one did us r egar d.
At lengt h, alas! we r eached t he land, it gr ieved us t en t imes mor e,
That wr et ched place Van Diemen’s Land, f ar f r om our nat ive shor e. 20
They chained us t wo by t wo, and whipped and lashed along, They cut of f our pr ovisions if we did t he least t hing wr ong; They mar ch us in t he bur ning sun unt il our f eel ar e sor e, So har d’s our lot now we ar e got t o Van Diemen’s shor e.
We labour har d f r om mor n t o night unt il our hones do ache, 25 Then ever y one t hey must obey, t heir mouldy beds must make;
Ever y night when I lay down I wet my st r aw wit h t ear s,
While wind upon t hat hor r id shor e did whist le in our ear s, 30 Those dr eadf ul beast s upon t hat land ar ound our cot s do r oar ,
Most dismal is our doom upon Van Diemen’s shor e.
Come all young men and maidens, do bad company f or sake, I f t ongue can t ell our over t hr ow it will make your hear t t o ache;
Young gir ls I pr ay be r uled by me, your wicked ways give o’er , 35 For f ear like us you spend your days upon Van Diemen’s shor e.
‘Frank The Poet’
This text is usually attributed to Francis McNamara (1811--?), (alias Goddard) transported in 1832 for ‘uttering’ or distributing forged bank notes. Known as ‘Frank the Poet’, McNamara’s works were well-known amongst the convicts and ex-convicts of the 1820s and after. This ballad provide an interpretation of early colonial life from the convicts’ point of view.
Labour ing wit h t he Hoe
I was convict ed by t he laws of England’s host ile cr own, Conveyed acr oss t hose swelling seas in slaver y’s let t er s bound, For ever banished f r om t hat shor e wher e love and f r iendship gr ow, That loss of f r eedom t o deplor e and wor k t he labour ing hoe.
Despised, r ej ect ed and oppr essed in t at t er ed r ags I m clad. 05 What anguish f ills my aching br east and almost dr ives me mad,
When I hear t he set t ler ’s t hr eat ening voice say, ‘Ar ise! t o labour go, Take scour ging, convict s, f or your choice or wor k t he labour ing hoe.’
Gr owing wear y f r om compulsive t oil beneat h t he noon-t ide sun,
While dr ops of sweat bedew t he soil my t ask r emains undone. 10 I ’m f logged f or wilf ul negligence, or t he t yr ant s call it so.
Ah what a dolef ul r ecompense f or labour ing wit h t he hoe.
Behold yon lof t y woodbine hills wher e t he r ose in t he mor ning shines, Those cr yst al br ooks t hat do dist il and mingle t hr ough t hose vines,
Ther e seems t o be no pleasur es gained: t hey but augment my woe, 15 Whilst her e an out cast doomed t o live and wor k t he labour ing hoe.
You gener ous sons of Er in’s I sle, whose hear t f or glor y bur ns, Pit y a wr et ched exile who his long-lost count r y mour ns. Rest or e me heaven t o liber t y whilst I lie her e below,
Early Bushranging Ballad
The two ballads, "Bold Jack Donahoe" and "Jim Jones at Botany Bay" concerning the activities and the fate of Jack Donahoe, an early bushranging hero.
Jack Donahue (1804 — 1 September, 1830), sometimes called John Donohue, was a famous Australian bushranger. With the exception of Ned Kelly, there have been more songs, poems and stories about him than any other bushranger. He quickly became a folk hero. Governor Ralph Darling told hotel owners they would have their hotels closed if they allowed people to sing songs about Donahue.
Jack Donahue was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1804. He was in trouble with the police for his political activities
to gain independence for Ireland. In 1824, he was found guilty of “ intent to commit a felony” . This means he was going to do something wrong, but he had not done it yet. He was sent to Sydney on the convict ship Ann and Amelia, which arrived on 2 January, 1825. He was sent to work for a Mr. Pagan at Parramatta. He was soon in trouble and put to work on a road gang. Major West, at Quaker’s Hill, employed Donahue to look after his pigs.
With two other men, George Kilroy and Bill Smith, he held up some carts on the Richmond Road. The police soon caught them and the court sentenced them to death. As he was being taken back to gaol (jail) in Sydney he escaped. The government offered a reward of £20 for his capture.
"Jim Jones at Botany Bay" is a traditional Australian folk ballad written as early as 1907. The narrator, Jim Jones, is found guilty of an unnamed crime and sentenced to transportation. En route, his ship is attacked by pirates, but the crew holds them off. Just when the narrator remarks that he would rather have joined the pirates or indeed drowned at sea than gone to Botany Bay, he is reminded by his captors that any mischief with be met with the whip. The final verse sees the narrator describing the daily drudgery and degradation of life in the penal colony, and dreaming of joining the bushrangers and taking revenge on his floggers.
Bold J ack Donahue (Anonymous)
I n Dublin t own I was br ought up, in t hat cit y of gr eat f ame My decent f r iends and par ent s, t hey will t ell t o you t he same.
I t was f or t he sake of f ive hundr ed pounds I was sent acr oss t he main, For seven long year s in New Sout h Wales t o wear t he convict ’s chain.
Chor us:
Then come, my hear t ies, we’ll r oam t he mount ains high! 05 Toget her we will plunder , t oget her we will die!
We’ll wander over t he mount ains and we’ll gallop over plains For we scor n t o live in slaver y, bound down wit h ir on chains.
I ’d scar ce been t her e t welve mont hs or mor e upon t he Aust r alian shor e,
When I t ook t o t he highway, as I ’d of t -t imes done bef or e. 10 Ther e was me and J acky Under wood, W ebber and Walmsley t oo,
These wer e t he t r ue associat es of bold J ack Donahoe.
Now Donahoe was t aken, all f or a not or ious cr ime,
And sent enced t o be hanged upon t he gallows-t r ee so high.
As Donahoe made his escape, t o t he bush he went st r aight way. The people t hey wer e all af r aid t o t r avel night and day—
For ever y week in t he newspaper s t her e was published somet hing new
Concer ning, t his daunt less her o, t he bold J ack Donahoe! 20
As Donahoe was cr uising, one summer s af t er noon, Lit t le was his not ion his deat h was near so soon,
When a ser geant of t he hor se police dischar ged his car -a-bine, And called aloud on Donahoe t o f ight or t o r esign.
‘Resign t o you - you cowar dly dogs! a t hing I ne’er will do, 25 For I ’ll f ight t his night wit h all my might ,’ cr ied bold J ack Donahoe.
‘I ’d r at her r oam t hese hills and dales, like wolf or kangar oo Than wor k one hour f or Gover nment !’ cr ied hold J ack Donahoe.
He f ought six r ounds wit h t he hor se police unt il t he lat al ball,
Which pier ced his hear t wit h cr uel smar t , caused Donahoe t o f all. 30 And as he closed his mour nf ul eyes, he bade t his wor ld Adieu
Saying, ‘Convict s all, pr ay f or t he soul of Bold J ack Donahoe!’
J im J ones at Bot any Bay (Anonymous)
O, list en f or a moment lads, and hear me t ell my t ale
How, o’er t he sea f r om England’s shor e I was compelled t o sail.
The j ur y says ‘he’s guilt y, sir ,’ and says t he j udge, says he For lif e, J im J ones, I ’m sending you acr oss t he st or my sea;
And t ake my t ip, bef or e you ship t o j oin t he I r on-gang, 05 Don’t be t oo gay at Bot any Bay, or else you’ll sur ely hang –
Or else you’ll sur ely hang,’ says he - ‘and af t er t hat , J im J ones, High up upon t h’ gallow-t r ee t he cr ows will pick your bones.
You’ll have no chance f or mischief t hen; r emember what I say,
They’ll f log t h’ poachin’ Out of you, out t her e at Bot any Bay! 10
The winds blew high upon t h’ sea, and t h’ pir at es came along, But t he soldier s on our convict ship wer e f ull live hundr ed st r ong.
They opened f ir e and somehow dr ove t hat pir at e ship away.
I ’d have r at her j oined t hat pir at e ship t han have come t o Bot any Bay:
For night and day t he ir ons clang, and like poor galley slaves 15 We t oil, and t oil, and when we die must f ill dishonour ed gr aves.
And some dar k night when ever yt hing is silent in t he t own
I ’ll kill t he t yr ant s, one and all; and shoot t h’ f logger s down: 20
I ’ll give t h’ law a lit t le shock: r emember what I say,
They’ll yet r egr et t hey sent J im J ones in chains t o Bot any Bay!
William Charles Wentworth (13? August 1790 – 20 March 1872) was an Australian poet, explorer, journalist and politician, and one of the leading figures of early colonial New South Wales. He was the first native-born Australian to achieve a reputation overseas, and a leading advocate for self-government for the Australian colonies.
born en route from Sydney to Norfolk Island on 26th October, 1790 while studying law in 1817—20 at Cambridge in 1823 wrote “ Australasia” , placed second in the Chancellor’s Poetry Competition and published in England.
In 1813 Wentworth, accompanied by Lawson and Blaxland, made the first recorded crossing of that part of the Great Dividing Range known as the Blue Mountains.
He was probably the original Republican, advocating self-government for Australia. He drafted the constitution which gave NSW self-government in 1855.
The Blue Mountains town of Wentworth Falls and the western Sydney suburb of Wentworthville are named for him. He died in England in 1872.
Aust r alasia
Celest ial poesy! whose genial sway Ear t h' s f ur t hest habit able shor es obey; Whose inspir at ions shed t heir sacr ed light , Far as t he r egions of t he Ar ct ic night ,
And t o t he Laplander his Bor eal gleam 05 Endear not less t han Phoebus' br ight er beam, --
Descend t hou also on my nat ive land,
And on some mount ain-summit t ake t hy st and; Thence issuing soon a pur er f ont be seen
Than char med Cast alia or f amed Hippocr ene; 10 And t her e a r icher , nobler f ane ar ise,
Than on Par nassus met t he ador ing eyes. And t ho' , br ight goddess, on t he f ar blue hills, That pour t heir t housand swif t pellucid r ills
Wher e War r agamba' s r age has r ent in t wain 15 Opposing mount ains, t hunder ing t o t he plain,
No child of song has yet invoked t hy aid ' Neat h t heir pr imeval solit ar y shade, -- St ill, gr acious Pow' r , some kindling soul inspir e,
To wake t o lif e my count r y' s unknown lyr e, 20 That f r om cr eat ion' s dat e has slumber ing lain,
An Aust r al Shakespear e r ise, whose living page 25 To nat ur e t r ue may char m in ev' r y age; --
And t hat an Aust r al Pindar dar ing soar , Wher e not t he Theban eagle r each' d bef or e. And, O Br it annia! shouldst t hou cease t o r ide
Despot ic Empr ess of old Ocean' s t ide; -- 30 Should t hy t amed Lion -- spent his f or mer might , --
No longer r oar t he t er r or of t he f ight ; -- Should e' er ar r ive t hat dar k disast r ous hour , When bow' d by luxur y, t hou yield' st t o pow' r ; --
When t hou, no longer f r eest of t he f r ee, 35 To some pr oud vict or bend' st t he vanquish' d knee; -- May all t hy glor ies in anot her spher e
Relume, and shine mor e br ight ly st ill t han her e; May t his, t hy last -bor n inf ant , t hen ar ise,
To glad t hy hear t and gr eet t hy par ent eyes; 40 And Aust r alasia f loat , wit h f lag unf ur l' d,
A new Br it annia in anot her wor ld.
Vocab:
celestial = (lit. use) very beautiful poesy = (old use) poetry
genial = hospitable
sway = literary power to rule/ control people shed = send out
Arctic = the large area of land surrounding the North Pole
Lapland = region in northern Norway, Sweden, Ireland, and the Soviet Union
Boreal = northern; pertaining to the north Phoebus = the sun
Castalia = a spring on Mount Parnassus in Greece, sacred to Apollo and the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration
Hippocrene = a spring on Mount Helicon in Greece, sacred to the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration
Fane = (arch) temple
Pellucid = clear as water, almost transparent Rill = a small brook
Warragamba = the name of a river (crossing Sydney) Twain = (old use) two
Primeval = original; belonging to the first or earliest period
Gracious = kind
Kindling = becoming excited
Lyre = harplike musical instrument of ancient Greece; here maybe a lyric, a poem Lain = (pp, lie)
Uncouth = coarse; not polished Strain = a passage/ piece of poetry Austral = Australia
Pactolus = a small river in ancient Lydia (an ancient kingdom in western Asia minor); famous for the gold washed from its sands
Pindar = (518-438BC) Greek lyric poet, who was a religious conservative and showed the gods as powerful, righteous forces
Daring = brave; taking risk
Theban = (from Thebe) a city of ancient Greece, a rival of ancient Athens
Despotic = ruler with unlimited power Yield = surrender
Victor = a conqueror Vanquished = defeated Relume = to light up
In 1816 Field accepted a commission as judge of the Supreme Court of New South Wales, and arrived in Sydney on 24 February 1817. Governor Macquarie, writing to Under-secretary Goulburn in A pril thanked him "for making me acquainted with Mr Field's character.
In 1819 he published First Fruits of Australian Poetry, the first volume of verse, although it had only twelve pages, issued in Australia. Lamb reviewed it far too kindly in the Examiner for 16 January 1820. An enlarged edition appeared in 1823.
The Kangar oo
Kangar oo, Kangar oo! Thou Spir it of Aust r alia,
That r edeems f r om ut t er f ailur e, Fr om per f ect desolat ion,
And war r ant s t he cr eat ion 05 Of t his f if t h par t of t he Ear t h,
Which would seem an af t er -bir t h, Not conceiv' d in t he Beginning (For GOD bless' d His wor k at f ir st ,
And saw t hat it was good), 10 But emer g' d at t he f ir st sinning,
When t he gr ound was t her ef or e cur st ; -- And hence t his bar r en wood!
Kangar oo, Kangar oo!
Tho' at f ir st sight we should say, 15 I n t hy nat ur e t hat t her e may
Cont r adict ion be involv' d, Yet , like discor d well r esolv' d, I t is quickly har monized.
Sphynx or mer maid r ealiz' d, 20 Or cent aur unf abulous,
Would scar ce be mor e pr odigious, Or Labyr int hine Minot aur ,
Wit h which gr eat Theseus did war
Or Pegasus poet ical, 25
Or hippogr if f -- chimer as all! But , what Nat ur e would compile, Nat ur e knows t o r econcile; And Wisdom, ever at her side,
Of all her childr en' s j ust if ied. 30
She had made t he squir r el f r agile; She had made t he bounding har t ; But a t hir d so st r ong and agile Was beyond ev' n Nat ur e' s ar t ;
So she j oin' d t he f or mer t wo 35 I n t hee, Kangar oo!
To descr ibe t hee, it is har d: Conver se of t he camélopar d, Which beginnet h camel-wise,
Had belong' d t o some "small deer ," Such as livet h in a t r ee;
By t hy hinder , t hou should' st be
A lar ge animal of chace, 45 Bounding o' er t he f or est ' s space; --
J oin' d by some divine mist ake, None but Nat ur e' s hand can make -- Nat ur e, in her wisdom' s play,
On Cr eat ion' s holiday. 50
For howsoe' er anomalous, Thou yet ar t not incongr uous, Repugnant or pr epost er ous. Bet t er -pr opor t ion' d animal,
Mor e gr acef ul or et her eal, 55 Was never f ollow' d by t he hound,
Wit h f if t y st eps t o t hy one bound. Thou can' st not be amended: no; Be as t hou ar t ; t hou best ar t so.
When soot y swans ar e once mor e r ar e, And duck-moles t he Museum' s car e, Be st ill t he glor y of t his land, Happiest Wor k of f inest Hand!
Vocab:
Redeem = to make up for Utter = arid
Desolation = absolute Warrant = guarantee
Sinning = Doing wrong/ committed sin Curst = (adj) cursed
Discord = Disagreement/ lack of harmony Resolved = solved
Centaur =(Gk myth) fabulous creature half man & half horse
Unfabulous = real Scarce = Rare
Prodigious = Enormous/ wonderful
Labyrinthine = (adj) network of winding paths, etc through which it is difficult to find one’s way without help; (fig) entangled state of affairs Minotaur = (Gk Myth) monster, half man & half bull,
fed with human flesh, kept in the labyrinth in Crete
Theseus = (Gk legend) the chief hero of Attica, son of Aegeus, said to have organized a constitutional government and united the separate states at Athens. Among his many exploits, he found his way through the Cretan labyrinth (aided by Ariadne, whom he loved but deserted), and slew the Minotaur, fought the Amazons, was one of the Argonauts, and took part in the Calydonian hunt.
Pegasus = (Gk myth) a winged horse, sprung from the blood of Medusa when slain by Perseus, who with a stroke of his hoof caused the spring Hippocrene to open up on Mount Helicon, from which came the modern association with the Muses and poetry Hippogriff = mythical beast that is in part griffin,
but with a horse's body and hind-quarters Chimeras =(Gk myth) monster with a lion head, a
goat body, and a serpent’s tail Squirrel = a tree-living, bushy tailed rodent
having thick, soft fur Bounding = jumping Hart = Adult male deer
Agile = quick and light in movement Camelopard = (obs) giraffe
Camel-wise = with reference to camel Fore = at, in, toward the front Hinder = at, in toward the back Chace = (obs) chase; follow (to catch)
Anomalous = different in some way from what is normal
Incongruous = not harmonious in character Repugnant = contrary in character
Charles Harpur (1813–1868), born at Windsor, New South Wales, on 23 January 1813, is now recognised as the forefather of Australian poets. For nearly a century, his life and work remained largely inaccessible and underestimated. Modern critical opinion sees him as the most substantial of the colonial poets.
One of the first generation to be native-born, of emancipist parentage, Harpur believed in the virtuosity of the intellect over ingrained class prejudice. He discovered his calling in life as a boy, dreaming of becoming the ‘first high priest’ of muse, wandering through an arcadian playground of forests along the banks of the majestic Hawkesbury River. In later, less happy years, Charles wrote the nostalgic verse in ‘The Dream by the Fountain’ (1867).
His father, transported for complicity in a robbery in Ireland, was initially assigned to John Macarthur. Through his access to Marsden’s extensive library, Harpur became well versed in the classics and deeply influenced by Wordsworth and Shelley. He played a pivotal role preparing the groundwork to establish an authentic literature. He believed in the power of poetry to instruct the hearts and minds of fellow colonists on how to appreciate the Australian landscape.
This age was for action, exploration, practicality and material gain. It was not uncommon for the natural scenery of Australia to appear repulsive and strange to the eye of many newcomers. To the native-born or ‘currency lads’, this was the only home they knew. Those few with any intellectual or literary inclinations still observed the world through, and relied on, old country conventions to provide cultural inspiration and outlook. The colonial poet was derided and faced a difficult task to find an audience in the new country.
Harpur saw poetry as one of the finer arts of man to symbolise our innermost moral being. ‘The World and the Soul’ (1847) is Harpur’s most acute effort to illustrate his philosophical beliefs. The poem considers the mystical unity of all life, creating evocative images of the spirit of man emerging from, and rejuvenated by, the ‘womb of nature’.
Through lifelong adroit contributions and dedication to his art, Charles Harpur consummated his poetic mission, attaining a symbolic place in Australian literary history. Today, the boy ‘musing of glory and grace by old Hawkesbury’s side’ is acknowledged—as he had hoped in childhood dreams 180 years ago—as the ‘ First Muse of Australia’.
A Midsummer Noon in t he Aust r alian For est
Not a bir d dist ur bs t he air ! Ther e is quiet ever ywher e; Over plains and over woods What a might y st illness br oods.
Even t he gr asshopper s keep 05 Wher e t he coolest shadows sleep;
Even t he busy ant s ar e f ound Rest ing in t heir pebbled mound; Even t he locust clinget h now
I n silence t o t he bar ky bough: 10 And over hills and over plains
Q uiet , vast and slumbr ous, r eigns.
' Tis t he dr agon-hor net - see! 15 All bedaubed r esplendent ly
Wit h yellow on a t awny gr ound - Each r ich spot nor squar e nor r ound, But r udely hear t -shaped, as it wer e
The blur r ed and hast y impr ess t her e, 20 Of ver meil-cr ust ed seal
Dust ed o' er wit h golden meal: Only t her e' s a dr oning wher e Yon br ight beet le gleams t he air -
Gleams it in it s dr oning f light 25 Wit h a slant ing t r ack of light ,
Till r ising in t he sunshine higher , I t s shar ds f lame out like gems on f ir e.
Ever y ot her t hing is st ill,
Save t he ever wakef ul r ill, 30 Whose cool mur mur only t hr ows
A cooler comf or t r ound Repose; Or some r ipple in t he sea Of leaf y boughs, wher e, lazily,
Tir ed Summer , in her f or est bower 35 Tur ning wit h t he noont ide hour ,
Heaves a slumbr ous br eat h, er e she Once mor e slumber s peacef ully.
O ' t is easef ul her e t o lie
Hidden f r om Noon' s scor ching eye, 40 I n t his gr assy cool r ecess
Musing t hus of Q uiet ness.
Vocab:
Brood = (of a bird) sit on eggs to hatch them Slumberous = sleepy
Drowsy = feeling sleepy/ half asleep
Bedaubed = cover with/ smeared with sth dirty, wet, sticky etc
Resplendently = very bright/ splendid Tawny = brownish yellow
Blurred = become unclear
Hasty = said/ made/ done (too) quickly Vermeil-crusted = bright red colour-coated
Dusted o’ er = Sprinkled with powder Meal = Grain coarsely ground Droning = Low humming sound
Shard = (old use) a piece of broken earthenware Repose = rest/ sleep; restful
Bower = (summer) house in a garden (here, in the forrest)
Noontide = noontime
Heaves = to breathe with effort Recess = place
Henry Clarence Kendall (18 April 1839 - 1 August 1882 interred in
Waverley Cemetery) was an nineteenth century Australian poet.
Kendall was born near Ulladulla, New South Wales. He was registered as Thomas Henry Kendall, but never appears to have used his first name. Another name, Clarence, was added in adult life but his three volumes of verse were all published under the name of "Henry Kendall". His father, Basil Kendall, was the son of the Rev. Thomas Kendall w ho came to Sydney in 1809 and five years later went as a missionary to New Zealand.
Kendall was the first Australian poet to draw his inspiration from the life, scenery and traditions of the country. In the beginnings of Australian poetry the names of two other men stand with his -- Adam Lindsay Gordon, of English parentage and education, and Charles Harpur, born in Australia a generation earlier than Kendall. Harpur's work, though lacking vitality, shows fitful gleams of poetic fire suggestive of greater achievement had the circumstances of his life been more favourable. Kendall, whose lot was scarcely more fortunate, is a true singer; his songs remain, and are likely long to remain, attractive to poetry lovers.
“ The Last of His Tribe” is a poignant poem-- a wonderful way to sympathetically make the reader aware of the plight of the Aboriginal people in Australia. The wonderful compassion it shows for the Aboriginal man left alone in his tribal lands which the reader should all have. (Modified from Wikipadeia and other relevant sources)
The Last of His Tr ibe
He cr ouches, and bur ies his f ace on his knees, And hides in t he dar k of his hair ;
For he cannot look up t o t he st or m-smit t en t r ees, Or t hink of t he loneliness t her e:
Of t he loss and t he loneliness t her e.
The wallar oos gr ope t hr ough t he t uf t s of t he gr ass, And t ur n t o t heir cover s f or f ear ;
But he sit s in t he ashes and let s t hem pass
Wher e t he boomer angs sleep wit h t he spear :
Wher e t he nullah, t he sling, and t he spear .
Uloola, behold him! The t hunder t hat br eaks On t he t ops of t he r ocks wit h t he r ain,
And t he wind which dr ives up wit h t he salt of t he lakes, Have made him a hunt er again:
A hunt er and f isher again.
For his eyes have been f ull wit h a smoulder ing t hought ; But he dr eams of t he hunt s of yor e,
And of f oes t hat he sought , and of f ight s t hat he f ought Wit h t hose who will bat t le no mor e:
Who will go t o t he bat t le no mor e.
And he st ar t s at a wonder f ul song:
At t he sounds of a wonder f ul song.
And he sees, t hr ough t he r ent s of t he scat t er ing f ogs, The cor r obor ee war like and gr im,
And t he lubr a who sat by t he f ir e on t he logs, To wat ch, like a mour ner , f or him:
Like a mot her and mour ner , f or him.
Will he go in his sleep f r om t hese desolat e lands, Like a chief , t o t he r est of his r ace,
Wit h t he honey-voiced woman who beckons, and st ands, And gleams like a Dr eam in his f ace -
Like a mar vellous Dr eam in his f ace?
Vocab:
Storm-smitten = Storm-hit (with powerful destructive effect)
Wallaroo = Any of a group of kangaroos of the genus M acropus robustus, characterized by their great size, long narrow hind feet, and thick gray fur
Grope = Search about Tuft = bunch
Covers = woods protecting the animals
Nullah =(nulla-nulla or nullah-nullah) an Aboriginal club or heavy weapon
Sling = catapult
Uloola = a Dreamtime god
Smouldering = Show ing suppressed sign of anger or hate
(of) Yore = Time long past Tumble = fall
Rents = splits Grim = gloomy
Lubra =(derog.) an Aboriginal woman Beckon = lure; tempts
Gleam = shine
Marvelous = wonderful
Up t he Count r y (Henr y Lawson, 1867--1922)
I am back f r om up t he count r y—ver y sor r y t hat I went
Seeking out t he Sout her n poet ’s land wher eon t o pit ch my t ent ; I have lost a lot of idols, which wer e br oken on t he t r ack, Bur nt a lot of f ancy ver ses, and I ’m glad t hat I am back.
Far t her out may be t he pleasant scenes of which our poet s boast , But I t hink t he count r y’s r at her mor e invit ing r ound t he coast . Anyway, I ’ll st ay at pr esent at a boar ding-house in t own.
Dr inking beer and lemon-squashes, t aking bat hs and cooling down.
‘Sunny plains!’ Gr eat Scot t ! —t hose bur ning wast es of bar r en soil and sand Wit h t heir ever last ing f ences st r et ching out acr oss t he land!
Desolat ion wher e t he cr ow is! Deser t wher e t he eagle f lies,
Paddocks wher e t he luny bullock st ar t s and st ar es wit h r eddened eyes; Wher e, in clouds of dust enveloped, r oast ed bullock-dr iver s cr eep Slowly past t he sun-dr ied shepher d dr agged behind his cr awling sheep. St unt ed peak of gr anit e gleaming, glar ing like a molt en mass
Pour ed f r om some inf er nal f ur nace on a plain devoid of gr ass.
I n t he place of ‘shining r iver s’—’walled by clif f s and f or est boles’. Bar r en r idges, gullies, r idges! wher e t he ever last ing f lies—
Fier cer t han t he plagues of Egypt —swar m about your blight ed eyes! Bush! wher e t her e is no hor izon! wher e t he bur ied bushman sees Not hing—Not hing! but t he sameness of t he r agged, st unt ed t r ees! Lonely hut mid dr ought et er nal, suf f ocat ing at mospher e
Wher e t he God-f or got t en hat t er dr eams of cit y lif e and beer . Tr eacher ous t r acks t hat t r ap t he st r anger , endless r oads t hat gleam
and glar e,
Dar k and evil-looking gullies, hiding secr et s her e and t her e! Dull, dumb f lat s and st ony r ises, wher e t he t oiling bullocks bake, And t he sinist er goanna j oins t he lizar d and t he snake!
Land of day and night —no mor ning f r eshness, and no af t er noon, When t he gr eat whit e sun in r ising br ings t he summer heat in J une. Dismal count r y f or t he exile! Shades of sudden night t hat f all Fr om t he sad hear t -br eaking sunset hur t t he new chum wor st of all.
Dr ear y land in sodden weat her , wher e t he endless cloud-banks dr if t O’er t he bushmen like a blanket t hat t he Lor d will never lif t — Dismal land when it is r aining—gr owl of f loods, and, oh! t he woosh Of t he r ain and wind t oget her on t he dar k bed of t he bush— Ghast ly f ir es in lonely humpies, wher e t he gr anit e r ocks ar e piled I n t he r ain-swept wilder nesses t hat ar e wildest of t he wild. Land wher e gaunt and haggar d women live alone and wor k like men Till t heir husbands, gone a-dr oving, will r et ur n t o t hem again; Homes of men; if home had ever Such a God-f or got t en place, Wher e t he wild select or ’s childr en f ly bef or e a st r anger ’s f ace. Home of t r agedy applauded by t he dingoes’ dismal yell,
Heaven of t he shant y-keeper —f it t ing f iend f or such a hell— Full of wallar oos and wombat s, and, of cour se, t he ‘cur lew’s call’— And t he lone sundowner t r amping ever onwar d t hr ough it all!
I am back f r om up t he count r y, up t he count r y wher e I went Seeking f or t he Sout her n poet s’ land wher eon t o pit ch my t ent ; I have shat t er ed many idols out along t he dust y t r ack,
Bur nt a lot of f ancy ver ses—and I ’m glad t hat I am back. I believe t he Sout her n poet s’ dr eam will not be r ealized Till t he plains ar e ir r igat ed and t he land is humanized. I int end t o st ay at pr esent , as I said bef or e, in t own,
Dr inking beer and lemon-squashes, t aking bat hs and cooling down.
Clancy of t he Over f low
(Andr ew Bar t on Pat er son, 1864—1941)
I had wr it t en him a let t er which I had, f or want of bet t er Knowledge, sent t o wher e I met him down t he Lachlan, year s ago; He was shear ing when I knew him, so I sent t he let t er t o him, J ust on spec, addr essed as f ollows, ‘Clancy, of The Over f low.’
(And I t hink t he same was wr it t en wit h a t humb-nail dipped in t ar ); ‘Twas his shear ing mat e who wr ot e it , and ver bat im I will quot e it : ‘Clancy’s gone t o Queensland dr oving, and we don’t know wher e he
ar e.’
* * * * * * * I n my wild er r at ic f ancy visions come t o me of Clancy
Gone a-dr oving ‘down t he Cooper ’ wher e t he West er n dr over s go; As t he st ock ar e slowing st r inging, Clancy r ides behind t hem singing, For t he dr over ’s lif e has pleasur es t hat t he t ownsf olk never know.
And t he bush has f r iends t o meet him, and t heir kindly voices gr eet him
I n t he mur mur of t he br eezes and t he r iver on it s bar s, And he sees t he vision splendid of t he sunlit plains ext ended, And at night t he wondr ous glor y of t he ever last ing st ar s.
* * * * * * * I am sit t ing in my dingy lit t le of f ice, wher e a st ingy
Ray of sunlight st r uggles f eebly down bet ween t he houses t all, And t he f oet id air and gr it t y of t he dust y, dir t y cit y
Thr ough t he open window f loat ing, spr eads it s f oulness over all.
And in place of lowing cat t le, I can hear t he f iendish r at t le Of t he t r amways and t he buses making hur r y down t he st r eet ; And t he language uninvit ing of t he gut t er childr en f ight ing Comes f it f ully and f aint ly t hr ough t he ceaseless t r amp of f eet . And t he hur r ying people daunt me, and t heir pallid f aces haunt me As t hey shoulder one anot her in t heir r ush and ner vous hast e,
Wit h t heir eager eyes and gr eedy, and t heir st unt ed f or ms and weedy, For t ownsf olk have no t ime t o gr ow, t hey have no t ime t o wast e.
And I somehow r at her f ancy t hat I ’d like t o change wit h Clancy, Like t o t ake a t ur n at dr oving wher e t he seasons come and go, While he f aced t he r ound et er nal of t he cash-book and t he j our nal— But I doubt he’d suit t he of f ice, Clancy, of The Over f low.
The Poor , Poor Count r y
(J ohn Shaw Neilson, 1872--1942)
Oh ‘t was a poor count r y, in Aut umn it was bar e,
The only gr een was t he cut t ing gr ass and t he sheep f ound lit t le t her e. Oh, t he t hin wheat and t he br own oat s wer e never t wo f oot high, But down in t he poor count r y no pauper was I .
My wealt h it was t he glow t hat lives f or ever in t he young, ‘Twas on t he br own wat er , in t he gr een leaves it hung.
The blue cr anes f ed t heir young all day—how f ar in a t all t r ee! And t he poor , poor count r y made no pauper of me.
And in t hat poor count r y no pauper was I .
The mount ain-ducks down in t he dar k made many a hollow sound, I saw in sleep t he Bunyip cr eep f r om t he wat er s under gr ound. I f ound t he plover s’ island home, and t hey f ought r ight valiant ly, Poor was t he count r y, but it made no pauper of me.
My r iches all went int o dr eams t hat never yet came home, They t ouched upon t he wild cher r ies and t he slabs of honeycomb, They wer e not of t he desolat e br ood hat men can sell or buy, Down in t hat poor count r y no pauper was I .
* * * * * * *
The New Year came wit h heat and t hir st and t he lit t le lakes wer e low, The blue cr anes wer e my near est f r iends and I mour ned t o see t hem go; I wat ched t heir wings so long unt il only I saw t he sky,
Topic II: Migrant E xperience
A. American E xperience
Julia Alvarez
(born March 27, 1950) is a
Dominican-American poet, novelist, and essayist. Born in New York of
Dominican descent, she spent the first ten years of her
childhood in the Dominican Republic, until her father's
involvement in a polit
