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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=350482" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fogarty's Gin</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall, <br>And a message: ‘Come out to the back of the run— <br>Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun! <br>Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay: <br>For the men from Monkyra have mustered the run— <br>Cows and calves, calves of ours, without ever a brand, <br>Fifty head, if there's one, on the camp there they stand. <br>Come out to the stake-yards, nor fail me, or by all <br>The saints they'll be drafted and driven away!' <br>Boot and saddle it was to the rolling of curses: <br>Snatching whip, snatching spurs, where they hung on the nail. <br>In his wrath old McIvor, head stockman, turned pale, <br>Spitting oaths with his head 'neath the flap of his saddle; <br>Taking up the last hole in the girth with his teeth; <br>Then a hand on the pommel, a quick catch of breath, <br>A lift of the body, a swing to the right— <br>And, ten half-broken nags with ten riders astraddle, <br>We sped, arrow-swift, for the heart of the night. <br>Thud of hoofs! thud of hearts! breath of man! breath of beast! <br>With M'Ivor in front, and the rest heel to flank, <br>So we rode in a bunch down the steep river bank, <br>Churning up the black tide in the shallows like yeast. <br>Through the coolabahs, out on the plain, it increased <br>Till we swung with the stride of the dingo-pack, swooping <br>On scent of weak mother with puny calf drooping. <br>Staring eyes, swaying forms o'er the saddle-bow stooping, <br>With the wind in our shirts, grip of knee, grip of rein, <br>Losing ground, falling back, creeping forward again. <br>Behind us the low line of dark coolabah; <br>Overhead a sky spangled by planet and star; <br>And to left, on our shoulder, the mighty Cross flaring, <br>While afoot the quick pulsing of hoof-beats disturbs <br>Moist silence of grasses and salty-leaved herbs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Steering on by the stars, over hollow and crest; <br>Tingling eyes looking out through a curtain of tears <br>From the slap of the wind over forward-pricked ears, <br>Over forehead and nose stretching out for the west, <br>And into the face of the sombre night staring. <br>Threading in, threading out, through a maze of sand rises <br>That spring either side, loom a moment, then flee: <br>Dim hillocks of herbage and sun-blasted tree, <br>Till again a dark streak of far timber arises; <br>And anon, through the thick of a lignum swamp tearing, <br>Bare tendrils, back-springing, switch sharp on the knee. <br>Plain again! and again, with the speed of the wind, <br>The long miles in front join their comrades behind; <br>Then a sound in our ears like to far summer thunder <br>Or the booming of surf in a southerly gale; <br>And we shouted aloud each to each in our wonder, <br>For we knew that those beasts must have come fast and far, <br>That they moaned as the breaking of waves on a bar. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But behold! overhead the dark sky had grown pale, <br>With the azure-tinged paleness of newly-skimmed milk, <br>And the dawn-spiders floated on threads of floss-silk <br>As the guards of the sun drew aside the thick veil <br>And made ready to fling the dawn-portals asunder. <br>Still that sound swelled and rolled, thrilling deep on the air, <br>Calling long, calling loud in the ear of each steed, <br>Bringing courage and strength in the moment of need, <br>And light'ning the weight of the burdens they bare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But that moment behind us upshot a red glare <br>As the sun swept the sky with a roseate sponge; <br>And McIvor's blue roan gave a rear and a plunge, <br>A half-sob, and so fell, like an over-ripe pear. <br>Not a rein did we pull, not a stride did we stay, <br>Speeding onward and speeding! For long we could hear <br>Old Mac.'s maledictions ring loud in our rear <br>As we rode in hot haste from the incoming day. <br>Then all sudden and strangely we came face to face <br>With the lead of the cattle, and lo! our long race <br>Was run out; and we drew up the horses, all panting <br>In stress of the chase, and yet ready for more; <br>And our eager ears drank in that thunderous roar, <br>While we watched the red squadrons come over the levels <br>As if view-holloa'd by a pack of night-devils— <br>Cow and calf chasing heifer and lumbering steer, <br>With their grey, dripping nostrils, and eyes wide with fear, <br>As if Burgess's cob followed hard on their rear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we blocked them, and lo! the new sun laid a slanting <br>Red finger on one who rode over the plain, <br>Steed treading full slowly, head drooping, slack rein, <br>Turning often aside through the dew-laden grasses <br>To crop a sweet mouthful. We needed no glasses <br>To see it was Fogarty. Once and again, <br>And again did we hail—yet he never looked round, <br>Neither made the least motion of hearing the sound. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Riding on like a man who should ride in his sleep, <br>Or as one in the web of some deep-woven charm, <br>So he came through the grass—his horse striding breast-deep— <br>With a woman held close in the crook of his arm; <br>And her hair, all unbound, rippled over his shoulder, <br>Dead black; and her brow, where the sweat of fierce pain <br>Had dried, was brown-tinged as bronze is, but colder— <br>Ah, many times colder! and as he pulled rein, <br>He unwrapped saddle-blanket in which he had rolled her, <br>And lo! the gay sunlight lit ominous stain, <br>Where a murderous bullet had torn a blue vein <br>And let out her life in a warm crimson rain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then gently he laid his sad load on the ground, <br>And with sorrowing glances we gathered around. <br>Then he turned to the west, with his eyes all aflame, <br>With his brawny fists raised, calling witness from Heaven— <br>On his shoulder and flank the dark blood of the slain— <br>And he hurled his curse back on the place whence he came: <br>A loud curse, and a threat that he yet would stand even <br>With those of Monkyra who wrought this foul shame— <br>Though, to tell the God's truth, we'd have done just the same <br>In their place, and have reckoned it nothing but right: <br>For the black girl and Fogarty quietly crept <br>On the Monkyra men in the dead of the night; <br>And it happened the watchman was weary and slept, <br>So the gin, who no doubt was a game little pullet, <br>Slipped in, and brought both their night horses away, <br>While Fogarty started the cattle that lay <br>On the camp; and the trick was so bold it succeeded; <br>For the Monkyra men, when their cattle stampeded, <br>Had nothing to send in pursuit but a bullet. <br>Yet that was as much as the little gin needed: <br>She made no great fuss, though, nor murmured nor cried; <br>Only rode on the right of her lord till she died. <br>Her life ended well—nothing scamped or by halves: <br>Where she went who can tell? But we branded the calves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Barcroft+Henry+Thomas+Boake">Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=350482" data-title="Fogarty's Gin de Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake" data-description="A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall, 
And a message: ‘Come out to the back of the run— 
Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun! 
Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay: 
For the men from Monkyra have mustered the run—..."></div>
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