by Charles Harpur

Up Australians! Hark, the trumpet
Calls you to a holy fight!
Round the Evergreen, your standard,
Gather, and as one unite!
Shall the Monarchists condemn us
Into slavery and shame?
Or shall Truth endiadem us
With the stars that write her name?

Shall yon bright blue heaven, enroofing
This green golden land, afford
But a wide and splendid dwelling
For the villain and his lord!
And not a great dome for merit—
Not an open region be
For the outward marching spirit
Of immortal liberty!

Down with Wentworth! Down with Martin!
Murray, Marsh and all their clan!
Sticklers for the rights of cattle—
Sneerers at the rights of man!
We were slaves—nay, we were viler!
Soulless shapes of sordid clay,
Did we hound not from our Councils
Wolves and foxes such as they?

But their doom is sealed! All vainly
Fools against the Right may band!
Hark to scorn's loud-hissing tempest
How 'tis brewing in the land!
Aye, and it ere long shall sweep them
Like uprooted weeds away—
Like a dull obscuring vapour
From the pathway of the day!

By the equalising glory
Of the cause with which we start!
By the blood of honour thrilling
Through each patriotic heart!
By the majesty of manhood
Righteously and nobly free,
We will pause not, till Australia
All our own—our own shall be!