POWER, the noted highwayman, had long disturbed the peace Throughout this country, not to speak of baffling the police; Though numbers strove to capture him yet all contrived to fail And none this bird could catch to sprinkle salt upon his tail. Long time the Captain of Police reflected in despair, At last he thought of Nicholson, De Montfort, and of Hare; All men inured to peril, sons of a warlike race, Men never known to shrink from looking danger in the face. Forth rode these heroes of the Force that Longmore glorified, Intent on steadfast duty, and with them went a guide, Three days in preparation spent, they first contrived their plan, And then their search for Power in reality began. For three more weary days they rode, and none but must applaud The way the mountain ranges and rough country were explored With patient perseverance; while they studied all the time To guard against "bush telegraphs" who sympathize with crime. Full many a mountain stream they crossed, swollen o'er by months of rain— Such roads they never tracked before, and ne'er may see again; Through rain, through dark, through pathless bush, still onwardly they toiled, Half starved and wet, they only feared their object might be foiled. All day, all night, they travelled on, and closely searched the ground To see if any traces of the outlaw might be found. At length they left their horses and pushed on through thick and thin Until they reached the station of the cattle-fancier Quinn. With utmost caution, one by one, they past the station crept, Favoured by rain and darkness while the very watchdogs slept; All night they searched; at break of day the guide in whispers spoke When almost hopeless of success, "We've got him, there's a smoke!" A moment's reconnoitre, on rushed the valiant Three, And seized the well-armed robber, who could neither fight or flee, But, taken by complete surprise, screamed wildly in despair, Finding himself a prisoner in this his safest lair. He told his captors had he known, their visit he'd have stopped, And long before they reached his camp some of them he'd have dropped, Then said he wished to die quite game and begged he might be shot (It being the open season now), but they thought better not. They next sat down to breakfast, of which they stood in need Through having gone some thirty hours, or more, without a feed; Then took their man to Beechworth jail, and ended the career Of Power who'd roamed the bush at large for very near a year. Against the Force let Longmore still his angry passions vent, And underrate the hardships these heroes underwent, Which, borne without a murmur, so many nights and days, With utmost pluck and patience too, demand our highest praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESSAY: AT NIGHT THE AUTOPORTRAIT AT NIGHT by ELENI SIKELIANOS AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 35 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SEA SLUMBER-SONG by RODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL LILIES OF WHITE by UNNUR BENEDIKTDOTTIR BOOKS ET VERITAS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |