Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533740" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eureka</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stand up, my young Australian,<br>In the brave light of the sun,<br>And hear how Freedom's battle<br>Was in the old days lost - and won.<br>The blood burns in my veins, boy,<br>As it did in years of yore,<br>Remembering Eureka,<br>And the men of 'Fifty-four.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old times were the grand times,<br>And to me the Past appears<br>As rich as seas at sunset,<br>With its many-coloured years;<br>And like a lonely island<br>Aglow in sunset light,<br>One day stands out in splendour -<br>The day of the Good Fight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where Ballarat the Golden<br>On her throne sits like a Queen,<br>Ten thousand tents were shining<br>In the brave days that have been.<br>There dwelt the stalwart diggers,<br>When our hearts with hope were high.<br>The stream of Life ran brimming<br>In that golden time gone by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They came from many countries,<br>And far islands in the main,<br>And years shall pass and vanish<br>Ere their like are seen again.<br>Small chance was there for weaklings<br>With these man of iron core,<br>Who worked and played like Giants<br>In the year of 'Fifty-four.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Tyrants of the Goldfields<br>Would not let us live in peace;<br>They harried us and chased us<br>With their horse and foot police.<br>Each man must show his licence<br>When they chose, by fits and starts:<br>They tried to break our spirits,<br>And they almost broke our hearts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We wrote a Declaration<br>In the store of Shanahan,<br>Demanding Right and justice,<br>And we signed it, man by man,<br>And unto Charles Hotham,<br>Who was then the Lord of High,<br>We sent it; Charles Hotham<br>Sent a regiment in reply.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There comes a time to all men<br>When submission is a sin;<br>We made a bonfire brave, and<br>Flung our licences therein.<br>Our hearts with scorn and anger<br>Burned more fiercely than the flame,<br>Full well we knew our peril,<br>But we dared it all the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On Bakery Hill the Banner<br>Of the Southern Cross flew free;<br>Then up rose Peter Lalor,<br>And with lifted hand spake he: -<br>'We swear by God above us<br>While we live to work and fight<br>For Freedom and for justice,<br>For our Manhood and our Right.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, on the bare earth kneeling,<br>As on a chapel-floor,<br>Beneath the sacred Banner,<br>One and all, that oath we swore;<br>And some of those who swore it<br>Were like straws upon a flood,<br>But there were men who swore it<br>And who sealed it with their blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We held a stern War Council,<br>For in bitter mood were we,<br>With Vern and Hayes and Humffray,<br>Brady, Ross, and Kennedy,<br>And fire-eyed Raffaello,<br>Who was brave as steel, though small<br>But gallant Peter Lalor<br>Was the leader of us all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pat Curtain we made captain<br>Of our Pikemen, soon enrolled,<br>And Ross, the tall Canadian,<br>Was our standard-bearer bold.<br>He came from where St Lawrence<br>Flows majestic to the main;<br>But the River of St Lawrence<br>He would never see again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then passed along the order<br>That a fortress should be made,<br>And soon, with planks and palings,<br>We constructed the Stockade.<br>We worked in teeth-set silence,<br>For we knew what was in store:<br>Sure never men defended<br>Such a feeble fort before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All day the German blacksmith<br>At his forge wrought fierce and fast;<br>All day the gleaming pike-blades<br>At his side in piles were cast;<br>All day the diggers fitted<br>Blade to staff with stern goodwill,<br>Till all men, save the watchers,<br>Slept upon the fatal hill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The night fell cold and dreary,<br>And the hours crawled slowly be.<br>Deep sleep was all around me,<br>But a sentinel was I.<br>And then the moon grew ghostly,<br>And I saw the grey dawn creep,<br>A wan and pallid phantom<br>O'er the Mount of Warrenheip.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When over the dark mountain<br>Rose the red rim of the sun,<br>Right sharply in the stillness<br>Rang our picket's warning gun.<br>And scarce had died the echo<br>Ere, of all our little host,<br>Each man had grasped his weapon,<br>And each man was at his post.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The foe came on in silence<br>Like an army of the dumb;<br>There was no blare of trumpet.<br>And there was no tap of drum.<br>But ever they came onward,<br>And I thought, with indrawn breath,<br>The Redcoats looked like Murder,<br>And the Blackcoats looked like Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our gunners, in their gun-pits<br>That were near the palisade,<br>Fired fiercely, but the Redcoats<br>Fired as if upon parade.<br>Yet, in the front rank leading<br>On his men with blazing eyes,<br>The bullet of a digger<br>Struck down valiant Captain Wise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then 'Charge!' cried Captain Thomas,<br>And with bayonets fixed they came.<br>The palisade crashed inwards,<br>Like a wall devoured by flame.<br>I saw our gallant gunners,<br>Struggling vainly, backward reel<br>Before that surge of scarlet<br>All alive with stabbing steel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There Edward Quinn of Cavan,<br>Samuel Green the Englishman,<br>And Haffele the German,<br>Perished, fighting in the van.<br>And with the William Quinlan<br>Fell while battling for the Right,<br>The first Australian Native<br>In the first Australian Fight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Robertson the Scotchman,<br>In his gripping Scottish way,<br>Caught by the throat a Redcoat,<br>And upon that Redcoat lay.<br>They beat the Scotchman's head in<br>Smiting hard with butt of gun,<br>And slew him - but the Redcoat<br>Died before the week was done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These diggers fought like heroes<br>Charged to guard a kingdom's gate.<br>But vain was all their valour,<br>For they could not conquer Fate.<br>The Searchers for the Wounded<br>Found them lying side by side.<br>They lived good mates together,<br>And good mates together died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Peter Lalor, gazing<br>On the fight with fiery glance,<br>His lion-voice uplifted,<br>Shouting, 'Pikemen, now advance!'<br>A bullet struck him, speaking,<br>And he fell as fall the dead:<br>The Fight had lost its leader,<br>And the Pikemen broke and fled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The battle was not over,<br>For there stood upon the hill<br>A little band of diggers,<br>Fighting desperately still,<br>With pistol, pike, and hayfork,<br>Against bayonet and gun.<br>There was no madder combat<br>Ever seen beneath the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Donaghey and Dimond, <br>And Pat Gittins fighting fell,<br>With Thaddeus Moore, and Reynolds:<br>And the muskets rang their knell.<br>And staring up at Heaven,<br>As if watching his soul's track,<br>Shot through his heart so merry,<br>Lay our jester 'Happy Jack'.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sky grew black above us,<br>And the earth below was red,<br>And, oh, our eyes were burning<br>As we gazed upon our dead.<br>On came the troopers charging,<br>Valiant cut-throats of the Crown,<br>And wounded men and dying<br>Flung their useless weapons down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bitter fight was ended,<br>And, with cruel coward-lust,<br>They dragged our sacred Banner<br>Through the Stockade's bloody dust.<br>But, patient as the gods are,<br>Justice counts the years and waits -<br>That Banner now waves proudly<br>Over six Australian States.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I said, my young Australian,<br>That the fight was lost - and won -<br>But, oh, our hearts were heavy<br>At the setting of the sun.<br>Yet, ere the year was over,<br>Freedom rolled in like a flood:<br>They gave us all we asked for -<br>When we asked for it in blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God rest you, Peter Lalor!<br>For you were a whiteman whole;<br>A swordblade in the sunlight<br>Was your bright and gallant soul.<br>And God reward you kindly,<br>Father Smith, alive or dead:<br>'Twas you that give him shelter<br>When a price was on his head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within the Golden City<br>In the place of peace profound<br>The Heroes sleep. Tread softly:<br>'Tis Australia's Holy Ground.<br>And ever more Australia<br>Will keep green in her heart's core<br>The memory of Lalor<br>And the men of 'Fifty-four.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+James+Daley">Victor James Daley</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=533740" data-title="Eureka de Victor James Daley" data-description="Stand up, my young Australian,
In the brave light of the sun,
And hear how Freedom's battle
Was in the old days lost - and won.
The blood burns in my veins, boy,
As it did in years of yore,
Remembering Eureka,
And the men of 'Fifty-four.

The old ..."></div>
</div>
</div>