AUSTRALIA'S CALL TO ARMS.

By John B. O'Hara, M.A.

Sons of ocean-girdled islands,
Where the southern billows sigh,
Wake! arise! the dread Bellona
Speeds her chariot through the sky;
Yea, the troubled star of danger
On Britannia shineth down—
Wake! arise! maintain her glory
And renown, and renown!
In the hour of Britain's peril
Shall we falter, while the fires
Still are glowing on our altars
From the ashes of our sires?
Ho! brave hearts, for Britain's honour,
For the lustre of her crown,
Wake! arise! maintain her glory
And renown, and renown!
Ye are children of a nation,
Ye are scions of the sires
That of old were in the vanguard
Of the world's wide empires!
With the spirit of your fathers,
With the fulness of their fame,
Wake! arise! maintain the honour
Of her name, of her name!
Long to Britain may "the crimson
Thread of kinship" bind our wings!—
Crimson thread that slowly slackens
As the newer race upsprings:
Sons of heroes, men of courage
That reverse could never tame,
Wake! arise! maintain the glory
Of her name, of her name!
See! the star of ancient Britain,
That hath never known decline,
By your valour lit up newly,
With a glow of fiercer shine,
O'er the burning sands of Afric,
With your loyalty aflame;
Once again maintain the glory
Of her name, of her name!