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# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Wahanui, Tamati Ngapora

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​Wahanui, Tamati Ngapora, a celebrated Maori orator, belonging to the Ngatimaniapoto tribe, held for many years the position of Prime Minister to "King Tawhiao." After this potentate had made his submission to the authorities, Wahanui desired to lay before the New Zealand Parliament a statement of Maori grievances, and in the end obtained permission to be heard at the bar of the House, his speech on the occasion being remarkably eloquent and able. Wahanui was afterwards offered a seat in the Legislative Council, but declined it on the ground that it would minimise his Maori chieftainship, and damage him in the eyes of his people.
# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Viard, Right Rev. Dr.

His first name was Philippe
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​Viard, Right Rev. Dr., sometime Roman Catholic Bishop of Wellington, N.Z., was born in Lyons, France, on Oct. 11th, 1809, being ordained a priest about 1834. Having joined the Society of Mary in 1839, he was sent out as a missionary to the South Seas, remaining in New Caledonia for five years. He then, at the request of Bishop Pompallier, was transferred to New Zealand, where he was appointed Vicar-General and subsequently coadjutor to that prelate, the Pope in Feb. 1845 conferring on him the title of Bishop Coadjutor to the Vicar-Apostolic of Western Oceania. When the episcopal see of Wellington was created in June 1848, Dr. Viard was nominated Apostolical Administrator of that diocese, and Bishop on July 3rd, 1860. Not long after his return from a visit to Europe he was seized with illness, and died on July 2nd, 1872. He was buried in the Catholic cathedral at Wellington, the construction of which was commenced under his auspices.
# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Vogan, Arthur James

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​Vogan, Arthur James, resides in New Zealand, and is the author of a work entitled "The Black Police: a Story of Modern Australia," published in 1891 by Messrs. Hutchinson & Co., of London. Its main purpose is to pourtray the treatment of the blacks by the whites in the early squatting days of Queensland; and its revelations are asserted to be mainly the outcome of the author's personal observation and experiences in that colony. There are numerous observations from Mr. Vogan's pencil.
# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Wahawaha, Major Hon. Ropata

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​Wahawaha, Major Hon. Ropata, M.L.C., N.Z.C., a Maori of distinction and a chief of the Ngatiporou tribe, is a member of the Legislative Council of New Zealand. He was a very prominent leader of the friendly tribes during the Maori war, distinguishing himself on several occasions by his personal bravery, especially in the operations against the Hau Haus in 1865 and in the pursuit of Te Kooti. He received the decoration of the New Zealand Cross, as the Gazette states, "for his personal gallantry and loyal devotion on the occasion both of the first and last attacks on Ngatapa, and more especially for the courage he showed on the first occasion, at the head of only seventy men, when all the rest of the native contingent had retreated and left him without support; Major Bopata then pushed his way close to the entrenchments and held a position at a pistol-shot distance all day, and until, under cover of night, he was compelled by want of ammunition to retire, having sustained heavy losses." Ngatapa, in the Poverty Bay district, was the stronghold of Te Kooti; and its capture took place in the winter of 1868-9. For his services in this connection a sword of honour was sent him by her Majesty in 1870,
# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Vincent, J. E. Matthew

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​Vincent, J. E. Matthew, F.R.G.S., is chief commissioner for Messrs. Chaffey Brothers' Australian irrigation colonies, and has been engaged during the last four years in making known to the public in Great Britain and elsewhere the highly favourable conditions which Australia presents as a fruit-producing country and the peculiar advantages for high-class colonisation which are afforded by the colonies which he represents. These were recently founded (although now very remarkably developed) by the well-known brothers Chaffey, now merged into the company of Chaffey Brothers, Limited. Mr. Vincent himself resided, from considerations of health, for some nine or ten years in Australia, nearly the whole of the settled portion of which he has visited, and where he devoted himself to promoting agricultural development in connection with the sugar industry of Queensland on a system of co-operation amongst the whites which he designed in order to dispense with the necessity for coloured labour. Springing from an old family of yeomen in Dorsetshire, Mr. Vincent was educated at Christ's Hospital. Subsequently he was articled to the editor of the Sherborne Journal, one of the oldest newspapers in the west of England. Marrying the daughter of R. J. L. Witty, C.E. (an inventor of note), his wife co-operated with him in much subsequent journalistic ​and other public work, embracing the establishment of several Liberal journals in Warwickshire, one notably which he started in advocacy of rural and agrarian reform, and which, as the organ of the National Agricultural Labourers' Movement of 1872, had a weekly circulation of some seventy thousand copies, and was frequently mentioned in the House of Commons and the leading papers of the day in connection with the land question. Mr. Vincent, among much other public work, initiated and convened the first thoroughly representative National Farm Labourers' Conference at Leamington in 1872 (under the presidency of Mr. George Dixon, M.P.), which brought out Joseph Arch as the national champion of the interests of his class, also Sir Baldwin Leighton, Bart., as the earliest advocate of the "three acres and a cow" system, and has since led to important political results. Advocating the nationalisation of the land and being strongly opposed to strikes, Mr. Vincent seceded in 1875 (after three years of arduous work) from the Labourers' Union, of which he was honorary treasurer, and started a national scheme, under the presidency of Professor F. W. Newman, for acquiring land to furnish farm labourers, on a self-helpful basis, with small holdings and allotments, but had to relinquish his connection with it on account of impaired health.
# The Dictionary of Australasian Biography/Von Tempsky, Major Gustavus F.

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​Von Tempsky, Major Gustavus F., was a Prussian by birth, and belonged to a family of position. He entered the Prussian army at an early age, and after serving in the Hussars went out to South America in search of adventure. He was an excellent linguist and a man of high literary attainments, his book of travels in South America being widely read. Subsequently he led a wandering life, first on the Californian goldfields and then on those of Victoria, but ultimately proceeded to Central America, whence he went to New Zealand and offered himself for service in the Waikato war of 1863. His offer was accepted, and he was appointed in August of that year ensign of a company of Forest Rangers, raised mainly at his own expense, with the view of carrying on similar operations against the Maoris to those to which Von Tempsky had been accustomed in Central America against the Indians. He subsequently greatly distinguished himself at Paparatio, Patirangi, Orakau, Wanganui, and Kakaramea. At a dinner given in his honour by the Premier, the latter declared that Major von Tempsky had done more to raise the character of the colonial force than any other officer, and that he was the great bulwark of the self-reliant policy; yet the very next day the Major was ordered to proceed to Waiapu and place himself under the command of Lieut.-Col. Fraser, a newly arrived officer from England. Major von Tempsky objected to being subordinated to a junior officer of very recent standing in the colonial force, and sent in his resignation. His men at the same time refused to proceed without him. The Government declined to accept the Major's resignation, and requested him to induce his men to abandon their mutinous attitude. He refused to move in the matter, and was then categorically asked whether he would proceed to Napier and report himself to his commanding officer. This he again refused to do, and pressed for the acceptance of his resignation. He was then deprived of his sword and placed under close arrest. Ultimately the affair was smoothed over, and Major von Tempsky rejoined the service. At the close of the campaign he went to reside in Auckland, and painted a number of pictures of encounters with the Maoris. When the Armed Constabulary was formed, he accepted an inspectorship in the force, and was killed in the ill-fated engagement with the followers of Titokowaru at Nguto-o-te-Manu on Sept. 7th, 1868. The chief command on this fatal occasion was held by a Lieut.-Col. McDonnell, who led one party of Europeans, and Major von Tempsky another. The Maoris planned a successful ambush, and Major von Tempsky was shot dead whilst in the act of encouraging his men.
# The Collection of Antiquities

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Original French title: "Le Cabinet des antiques". First published 1839. Included as part of La Comédie humaine.
* Dedication
* Section 1
* Section 2
* Section 3
* Section 4
* Section 5
* Section 6
* Section 7
* Section 8
* Section 9
* Section 10
* Section 11
* Section 12
* Section 13
* Section 14
* Section 15
* Section 16
* Section 17
* Section 18
* Section 19
* Section 20
* Section 21
* Addendum
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Collection of Antiquities/Dedication

To Baron Von Hammer-Purgstall, Member of the Aulic Council, Author of the History of the Ottoman Empire.
Dear Baron,&mdashYou have taken so warm an interest in my long, vast "History of French Manners in the Nineteenth Century," you have given me so much encouragement to persevere with my work, that you have given me a right to associate your name with some portion of it. Are you not one of the most important representatives of conscientious, studious Germany? Will not your approval win for me the approval of others, and protect this attempt of mine? So proud am I to have gained your good opinion, that I have striven to deserve it by continuing my labors with the unflagging courage characteristic of your methods of study, and of that exhaustive research among documents without which you could never have given your monumental work to the world of letters. Your sympathy with such labor as you yourself have bestowed upon the most brilliant civilization of the East, has often sustained my ardor through nights of toil given to the details of our modern civilization. And will not you, whose naive kindliness can only be compared with that of our own La Fontaine, be glad to know of this?
May this token of my respect for you and your work find you at Dobling, dear Baron, and put you and yours in mind of one of your most sincere admirers and friends.
DE BALZAC.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Wagner

​ WAGNER
Creeps in half wanton, half asleep, One with a fat wide hairless face. He likes love-music that is cheap; Likes women in a crowded place; And wants to hear the noise they're making.
His heavy eyelids droop half-over, Great pouches swing beneath his eyes. He listens, thinks himself the lover, Heaves from his stomach wheezy sighs; He likes to feel his heart's a-breaking.
The music swells. His gross legs quiver. His little lips are bright with slime. The music swells. The women shiver. And all the while, in perfect time, His pendulous stomach hangs a-shaking.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Waikiki

​ WAIKIKI
Warm perfumes like a breath from vine and tree Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes, Somewhere an eukaleli thrills and cries And stabs with pain the night's brown savagery. And dark scents whisper; and dim waves creep to me, Gleam like a woman's hair, stretch out, and rise; And new stars burn into the ancient skies, Over the murmurous soft Hawaian sea.
And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again, And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known, An empty tale, of idleness and pain, Of two that loved—or did not love—and one Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly, A long while since, and by some other sea.
Waikiki, 1913
​ HAUNTINGS
In the grey tumult of these after years Oft silence falls; the incessant wranglers part; And less-than-echoes of remembered tears Hush all the loud confusion of the heart; And a shade, through the toss'd ranks of mirth and crying Hungers, and pains, and each dull passionate mood,— Quite lost, and all but all forgot, undying, Comes back the ecstasy of your quietude.
So a poor ghost, beside his misty streams, Is haunted by strange doubts, evasive dreams, Hints of a pre-Lethean life, of men, Stars, rocks, and flesh, things unintelligible, And light on waving grass, he knows not when, And feet that ran, but where, he cannot tell.
The Pacific, 1914
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A Death-Scene

V
A DEATH-SCENE
'O Day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly declining;
'He cannot leave thee now, While fresh west winds are blowing, And all around his youthful brow Thy cheerful light is glowing!
'Edward, awake, awake— The golden evening gleams Warm and bright on Arden's lake— Arouse thee from thy dreams!
'Beside thee, on my knee, My dearest friend, I pray That thou, to cross the eternal sea, Wouldst yet one hour delay:
'I hear its billows roar— I see them foaming high; But no glimpse of a further shore Has blest my straining eye. ​'Believe not what they urge Of Eden isles beyond; Turn back, from that tempestuous surge, To thy own native land.
'It is not death, but pain That struggles in thy breast— Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again; I cannot let thee rest!'
One long look, that sore reproved me For the woe I could not bear— One mute look of suffering moved me To repent my useless prayer:
And, with sudden check, the heaving Of distraction passed away; Not a sign of further grieving Stirred my soul that awful day.
Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting; Sunk to peace the twilight breeze: Summer dews fell softly, wetting Glen, and glade, and silent trees.
Then his eyes began to weary, Weighed beneath a mortal sleep; And their orbs grew strangely dreary, Clouded, even as they would weep. ​But they wept not, but they changed not, Never moved, and never closed; Troubled still, and still they ranged not— Wandered not, nor yet reposed!
So I knew that he was dying— Stooped, and raised his languid head; Felt no breath, and heard no sighing, So I knew that he was dead.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A Prayer

XIV
A PRAYER
My God! O let me call Thee mine! Weak, wretched sinner though I be, My trembling soul would fain be Thine, My feeble faith still clings to Thee.
Not only for the past I grieve, The future fills me with dismay; Unless Thou hasten to relieve, I know my heart will fall away.
I cannot say my faith is strong, I have not hope my love is great; But strength and love to Thee belong: O do not leave me desolate!
I know I owe my all to Thee; O take the heart I cannot give; Do Thou my Strength, my Saviour be, And make me to Thy glory live!
October 13, 1844.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A little while, a little while

POSTHUMOUS POEMS
EDITED BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË
I
'A little while, a little while, The weary task is put away, And I can sing and I can smile, Alike, while I have holiday.
Where wilt thou go, my harassed heart— What thought, what scene invites thee now? What spot, or near or far apart, Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, 'mid barren hills, Where winter howls, and driving rain; But, if the dreary tempest chills, There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare, Moonless above bends twilight's dome; But what on earth is half so dear— So longed for—as the hearth of home? ​The mute bird sitting on the stone, The dank moss dripping from the wall, The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown, I love them—how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room, The alien firelight died away; And from the midst of cheerless gloom, I passed to bright, unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane That opened on a common wide; A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain Of mountains circling every side.
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dream-like charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well; I knew the turfy pathway's sweep, That, winding o'er each billowy swell, Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Could I have lingered but an hour, It well had paid a week of toil; But Truth has banished Fancy's power; Restraint and heavy task recoil. ​Even as I stood with raptured eye, Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear, My hour of rest had fleeted by, And back came labour, bondage, care.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A sudden chasm of ghastly light

XIX
A sudden chasm of ghastly light Yawned in the city's reeling wall, And a long thundering through the night Proclaimed our triumph—Tyrdarum's fall.
The shrieking wind sank mute and mild, The smothering snow-clouds rolled away; And cold—how cold! wan moonlight smiled Where those black ruins smouldering lay.
'Twas over—all the battle's madness, The bursting fires, the cannon's roar, The yells, the groans, the frenzied gladness, The death the danger warmed no more.
In plundered churches piled with dead The heavy charger neighed for food, The wounded soldier laid his head 'Neath roofless chambers splashed with blood.
I could not sleep through that wild siege, My heart had fiercely burned and bounded; The outward tumult seemed to assuage The inward tempest it surrounded.
But dreams like this I cannot bear, And silence whets the fang of pain; I felt the full flood of despair Returning to my breast again.
​My couch lay in a ruined Hall, Whose windows looked on the minster-yard, Where chill, chill whiteness covered all, Both stone and urn and withered sward.
The shattered glass let in the air And with it came a wandering moan, A sound unutterably drear, That made me shrink to be alone.
One black yew-tree grew just below— I thought its boughs so sad might wail; Their ghostly fingers flecked with snow, Rattled against an old vault's rail.
I listened—no; 'twas life that still Lingered in some deserted heart: O God! what caused the shuddering shrill, That anguished, agonising start?
An undefined, an awful dream, A dream of what had been before; A memory whose blighting beam Was flitting o'er me evermore.
A frightful feeling frenzy born— I hurried down the dark oak stair; I reached the door whose hinges torn Flung streaks of moonshine here and there.
​I pondered not, I drew the bar, An icy glory caught mine eye, From that wide heaven where every star Stared like a dying memory.
And there the great Cathedral rose, Discrowned but most majestic so, It looked down in serene repose On its own realm of buried woe.
'Tis evening now, the sun decends In golden glory down the sky; The city's murmur softly blends With zephyrs breathing gently by.
And yet it seems a dreary moor, A dark, October moor to me; And black the piles of rain-clouds lour Athwart heaven's stormy canopy.
October 14, 1837.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/All day I've toiled, but not with pain

XL
All day I've toiled, but not with pain, In learning's golden wine; And now at eventide again The moonbeams softly shine.
There is no snow upon the ground, No frost on wind or wave; The south wind blew with gentlest sound And broke their icy grave.
'Tis sweet to wander here at night, To watch the winter die, With heart as summer sunshine light And warm as summer sky.
O may I never lose the peace That lulls me gently now, Though time should change my youthful face, And years should shade my brow!
True to myself, and true to all, May I be healthful still, And turn away from passion's call, And curb my own wild will.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A thousand sounds of happiness

LX
A thousand sounds of happiness And only one of real distress, One hardly uttered groan; But that has hushed all vocal joy, Eclipsed the glory of the sky, And made me think that misery Rules in our world alone!
About his face the sunshine glows, And in his hair the south wind blows, And violet and wild woodrose Are sweetly breathing near; Nothing without suggests dismay, If he could force his mind away From tracking farther day by day, The desert of despair.
Too truly agonised to weep, His eyes are motionless as sleep; His frequent sighs, long-drawn and deep, Are anguish to my ear. And I would soothe—but can I call The cold corpse from its funeral pall, And cause a gleam of hope to fall With my consoling tear? ​O Death! So many spirits driven Through this false world, their all had given To win the everlasting haven For sufferers so divine: Why didst thou smite the loved, the blest, The ardent, and the happy breast, That full of life desired not rest, And shrank appalled from thine?
At least, since thou wilt not restore, In mercy launch one arrow more; Life's conscious death it wearies sore, It tortures worse than thee. Enough if storms have bowed his head, Grant him at last a quiet bed Beside his early stricken dead; Even where he yearns to be!
April 22, 1845
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/All hushed and still within the house

LVIII
All hushed and still within the house; Without, all wind and driving rain; But something whispers to my mind, Wrought up in rain and wailing wind: Never again? Why not again? Never again; Memory has power as well as wind.
But the hearts that once adored me Have long forgot their vow; And the friends that mustered round me, Have all forsaken now.
'Twas in a dream revealed to me, But not a dream of sleep; A dream of watchful agony, Of guilt that would not weep.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/Alone I sat; the summer day

IX
Alone I sat; the summer day Had died in smiling light away; I saw it die, I watched it fade From the misty hill and breezeless glade.
And thoughts in my soul were rushing, And my heart bowed beneath their power; And tears within my eyes were gushing Because I could not speak the feeling, The solemn joy around me stealing, In that divine, untroubled hour.
I asked myself, O why has Heaven Denied the precious gift to me, The glorious gift to many given, To speak their thoughts in poetry?
Dreams have encircled me, I said, From careless childhood's sunny time; Visions by ardent fancy fed Since life was in its morning prime.
But now, when I had hoped to sing, My fingers strike a tuneless string; And still the burden of the strain— I strive no more, 'tis all in vain. ·····
August 1837.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/A Serenade

LII
A SERENADE
Thy Guardians are asleep, So I'm come to bid thee rise; Thou hast a holy vow to keep, Ere yon crescent quit the skies.
Though clouds careering wide Will hardly let her gleam, She's bright enough to be our guide Across the mountain stream.
O waken, dearest, wake! What means this long delay? Say, wilt thou not for true love's sake Chase idol fears away?
Think not of future grief Entailed on present joy; An age of woe were only brief Its memory to destroy.
And neither Hell nor Heaven, Though both conspire at last, Can take the bliss that has been given, Can rob us of the past. ​Then waken, Mary, wake, How canst thou linger now? For true love's and for honour's sake Arise and keep thy vow.
May 4, 1843.