Alice Werner

Bannerman of the Dandenong

I rode through the Bush in the burning noon,
 Over the hills to my bride, —
The track was rough and the way was long,
And Bannerman of the Dandenong,
 He rode along by my side.

A day's march off my Beautiful dwelt,
 By the Murray streams in the West; —
Lightly lilting a gay love-song
Rode Bannerman of the Dandenong,
 With a blood-red rose on his breast.

"Red, red rose of the Western streams"
 Was the song he sang that day —
Truest comrade in hour of need, —
Bay Mathinna his peerless steed —
 I had my own good grey.

There fell a spark on the upland grass —
 The dry Bush leapt into flame; —
And I felt my heart go cold as death,
And Bannerman smiled and caught his breath, —
 But I heard him name Her name.

Down the hill-side the fire-floods rushed,
 On the roaring eastern wind; —
Neck and neck was the reckless race, —
Ever the bay mare kept her pace,
 But the grey horse dropped behind.

He turned in the saddle — "Let's change, I say!"
 And his bridle rein he drew.
He sprang to the ground, — "Look sharp!" he said
With a backward toss of his curly head —
 "I ride lighter than you!"

Down and up — it was quickly done —
 No words to waste that day! —
Swift as a swallow she sped along,
The good bay mare from Dandenong, —
 And Bannerman rode the grey.

The hot air scorched like a furnace blast
 From the very mouth of Hell: —
The blue gums caught and blazed on high
Like flaming pillars into the sky; . . .
 The grey horse staggered and fell.

"Ride, ride, lad, — ride for her sake!" he cried; —
 Into the gulf of flame
Were swept, in less than a breathing space
The laughing eyes, and the comely face,
 And the lips that named HER name.

She bore me bravely, the good bay mare; —
 Stunned, and dizzy and blind,
I heard the sound of a mingling roar —
'Twas the Lachlan River that rushed before,
 And the flames that rolled behind.

Safe — safe, at Nammoora gate,
 I fell, and lay like a stone.
O love! thine arms were about me then,
Thy warm tears called me to life again, —
 But — O God! that I came alone! —

We dwell in peace, my beautiful one
 And I, by the streams in the West, —
But oft through the mist of my dreams along
Rides Bannerman of the Dandenong,
 With the blood-red rose on his breast.