Not the secret soul's distilling,
Every nerve and fibre filling
With intense ecstatic thrilling,—
Evoe! Fons Parnassi,

Fons ebrie Parnassi !

Ah! thou fairy fount of sweetness,
Well I wot how dear thou art

In thy purity and meetness

To my hot and thirsty heart, When, with sympathetic fleetness,

I have raced from thought to thought,

And, array'd in maiden neatness,

By her natural taste well taught,
Thy young Naiad, thy Pieria,
My melodious Egeria,

Winsomely finds out my fancies.
Frank as Sappho, as unsought,-
And with innocent wife-like glances
Close beside my spirit dances,

As a sister Ariel ought,—
Tripping at her wanton will,
With unpremeditated skill,
Like a gushing mountain rill,

Or a bright Bacchante reeling

Through the flights of thought and feeling,

Half concealing, half revealing

Whatsoe'er of Spirit's fire,

Beauty kindling with desire,

Can be caught in Word's attire!

Evoe! Fons Parnassi,

Fons ebrie Parnassi !

The Laurel Crown.

The laurel crown! for duty done,
For good achieved, and honours won,
For all of natural gift, or art,

That thrills and fills an earnest heart
With generous thoughts and stirring words
Struck from its own electric chords,-
On these your modern muses frown,
Yet these deserve the laurel crown!

The laurel crown! for soaring song
Eagle-pinion'd, free, and strong,
That, as GOD gives grace and power
Consecrates each hallow'd hour
Wisely, as a patriot ought,

By burning word and glowing thought,-
On this pour all your honours down,—
To this belongs the laurel crown!

The laurel crown! in common eyes
A wreath of leaves, a paltry prize,
A silly, worthless, weed-like thing,
Fit coronet for folly's king:

The laurel crown! in wisdom's ken

A call from GOD to waken men,

Lest in these mammon depths they drown,This is thy glory, laurel crown!

Yes, laurel crown! if seen aright
A majesty of moral might
To lead the masses on to good,
And rule the surging multitude
By nobler and more manly songs
Than to some troubadour belongs,
Who feebly warbles for renown,—
Not such be thou, my laurel crown!

New Zealand.

A SONG FOR THE ANTIPODES.

Queen of the South! which the mighty Pacific
Claims for its Britain in ages to be,
Bright with fair visions and hopes beatific,
Glorious and happy thy future I see!
Thither the children of England are thronging,
There for true riches securely to search;

Not for thy gold, California, longing,

But for sweet home, with enough, and a Church!

There, a soft clime and a soil ever teeming,

Summer's December, and Winter's July,

The bright Southern Cross in the firmament gleaming, The Dove, and the Crown, and the Altar on high,

There, the broad prairies with forest and river,

There, the safe harbours are bidding men search For Thy best blessings, O Heavenly Giver!

Home, with enough, and an Englishman's Church!

Yes; for Britannia, the Mother of Nations,

Sends out her Children, as teeming old Greece, Good men and great men, to stand in their stations, Merchants of plenty, and heralds of peace: Stout Anglo-Saxons! Port Victory calls you; Take the glad omen, and speedily search Where you shall gather, whatever befals you, Truest of treasures, a Home and a Church!

Fifty years hence-look forward and see it,
Realm of New Zealand, what then shalt thou see?
(If the world lives, at THE FATHER'S So be it,)
All shall be greatness and glory with thee!
Even should Britain's decay be down-written
In the dread doom-book that no man may search,
Still shall an Oxford, a London, a Britain,

Gladden the South with a Home and a Church!

Canterbury Pilgrims.

A "GOD SPEED."

(Sung to Music, at their Embarkation.)

Heaven speed you, noble band!
Link'd together, heart and hand,
Sworn to seek that far-off land,

Canterbury pilgrims,—

Heaven speed you! brothers brave,
Waft you well by wind and wave;
Heaven shield you! Heaven save!

Canterbury pilgrims.

Like a Queen of swarming bees,
England, hived amid the seas,
Sends you by a favouring breeze,

Canterbury pilgrims,

With a mother's tender care,

To her Southern sister there,

Her young sister, fresh and fair,

Canterbury pilgrims!

Fresh the soil, and fair the clime,
Lightly touch'd by toil or time,

Scarcely tinged with care or crime,

Canterbury pilgrims,

Go then, cheerfully go forth!

Hasten to replenish earth

With Old England's honest worth,

Canterbury pilgrims!

Aye-with industry-for gold,

Godliness-for wealth untold,

Go, in Christian duty bold,

Canterbury pilgrims,

Glad New Zealand bids you share
Each man plenty, and to spare,-
GOD be with you then and there,

Canterbury pilgrims!