12
Not Understood
Safely ride beneath the shadows of the mighty hills that keep
Watch and ward against the tempests, born, upon the outer deep.
Soar from island unto island, for were we to tarry here,
Tracing all the North-land’s beauties, we might linger for a year.
Fancy’s wings are swift and silent, o’er the sea and o’er the Strait—
Canterbury smiles before us. Ah! we have no time to wait;
Fly we o’er green pictures shining in their frames of spring’s new gold,
Fly we past the smiling farmsteads, fly we over field and fold—
Onward o’er the pass of Arthur! Magicland is drawing near—
Halt! The Gorge of wildest grandeurs opens up its wonders here;
Look below! and gaze above us! was there ever grander sight?
Here is every shade of darkness, here is every tint of light;
Listen to the torrent roaring in the deep ravine below,
See the cataracts descending from their home among the snow,
See the pine and larch and rata climbing up the mountain walls,
Hearken to the tumbling torrents answering the distant falls.
Weird Otira! grand Otira! is there any other clime
That can show us such a picture, so entrancing, so sublime?
Down the Gorge and through the valley, over floods that fret and foam,
As they rush among the boulders, hast’ning to their Ocean home;
Watch and ward against the tempests, born, upon the outer deep.
Soar from island unto island, for were we to tarry here,
Tracing all the North-land’s beauties, we might linger for a year.
Fancy’s wings are swift and silent, o’er the sea and o’er the Strait—
Canterbury smiles before us. Ah! we have no time to wait;
Fly we o’er green pictures shining in their frames of spring’s new gold,
Fly we past the smiling farmsteads, fly we over field and fold—
Onward o’er the pass of Arthur! Magicland is drawing near—
Halt! The Gorge of wildest grandeurs opens up its wonders here;
Look below! and gaze above us! was there ever grander sight?
Here is every shade of darkness, here is every tint of light;
Listen to the torrent roaring in the deep ravine below,
See the cataracts descending from their home among the snow,
See the pine and larch and rata climbing up the mountain walls,
Hearken to the tumbling torrents answering the distant falls.
Weird Otira! grand Otira! is there any other clime
That can show us such a picture, so entrancing, so sublime?
Down the Gorge and through the valley, over floods that fret and foam,
As they rush among the boulders, hast’ning to their Ocean home;
