Trooper Campbell
One day old Trooper CampbellRode out to Blackman’s Run,His cap-peak and his sabreWere glancing in the sun.’Twas New Year’s Eve, and slowlyAcross the ridges lowThe sad Old Year was driftingTo where the old years go.
The trooper’s mind was readingThe love-page of his life—His love for Mary WylieEre she was Blackman’s wife;He sorrowed for the sorrowsOf the heart a rival won,For he knew that there was troubleOut there on Blackman’s Run.
The sapling shades had lengthened,The summer day was late,When Blackman met the trooperBeyond the homestead gate.And if the hand of troubleCan leave a lasting trace,The lines of care had come to stayOn poor old Blackman’s face.
‘Not good day, Trooper Campbell,It’s a bad, bad day for me—You are of all the men on earthThe one I wished to see.The great black clouds of troubleAbove our homestead hang;That wild and reckless boy of mineHas joined M’Durmer’s gang.
‘Oh! save him, save him, Campbell!I beg in friendship’s name!For if they take and hang him,The wife would die of shame.Could Mary or her sistersHold up their heads again,And face a woman’s maliceOr claim the love of men?
‘And if he does a murder‘Twere better we were dead.Don’t take him, Trooper Campbell,If a price be on his head;But shoot him! shoot him, Campbell,When you meet him face to face,And save him from the gallows,And us from that disgrace.’
‘Now, Tom,’ cried Trooper Campbell,‘You know your words are wild.Though he is wild and reckless,Yet still he is your child;So bear up in your trouble,And meet it like a man,And tell the wife and daughtersI’ll save him if I can.’
. . . . .
The sad Australian sunsetHad faded from the west;But night brings darker shadowsTo hearts that cannot rest;And Blackman’s wife sat rockingAnd moaning in her chair.‘I cannot bear disgrace,’ she moaned;‘Disgrace I cannot bear.
‘In hardship and in troubleI struggled year by yearTo make my children betterThan other children here.And if my son’s a felonHow can I show my face?I cannot bear disgrace; my God,I cannot bear disgrace!
‘Ah, God in Heaven pardon!I’m selfish in my woe—My boy is better-heartedThan many that I know.And I will face the world’s disgrace,And, till his mother’s dead,My foolish child shall find a placeTo lay his outlawed head.’
. . . . .
With a sad heart Trooper CampbellRode back from Blackman’s Run,Nor noticed aught about himTill thirteen miles were done;When, close beside a cutting,He heard the click of locks,And saw the rifle muzzlesWere on him from the rocks.
But suddenly a youth rode out,And, close by Campbell’s side:‘Don’t fire! don’t fire, in heaven’s name!It’s Campbell, boys!’ he cried.Then one by one in silenceThe levelled rifles fell,For who’d shoot Trooper CampbellOf those who knew him well?
Oh, bravely sat old Campbell,No sign of fear showed he.He slowly drew his carbine;It rested by his knee.The outlaws’ guns were lifted,But none the silence broke,Till steadfastly and firmlyOld Trooper Campbell spoke.
‘That boy that you would ruinGoes home with me, my men;Or some of us shall neverRide through the Gap again.You know old Trooper Campbell,And have you ever heardThat bluff or lead could turn him,That e’er he broke his word?
‘That reckless lad is playingA heartless villain’s part;He knows that he is breakingHis poor old mother’s heart.He’ll bring a curse upon himself;But ’tis not that alone,He’ll bring dishonour to a nameThat I’D be proud to own.
‘I speak to you, M’Durmer,—If your heart’s not hardened quite,And if you’d seen the troubleAt Blackman’s home this night,You’d help me now, M’Durmer—I speak as man to man—I swore to save that foolish lad,And I’ll save him if I can.’
‘Oh, take him!’ said M’Durmer,‘He’s got a horse to ride.’The youngster thought a moment,Then rode to Campbell’s side—‘Good-bye!’ the outlaws shouted,As up the range they sped.‘A Merry New Year, Campbell,’Was all M’Durmer said.
. . . . .
Then fast along the ridgesTwo bushmen rode a race,And the moonlight lent a gloryTo Trooper Campbell’s face.And ere the new year’s dawningThey reached the home at last;And this is but a storyOf trouble that is past!