A CRITICAL BIOGRAPHY OF EDWIN JAMES BRADY - Mallacoota ...

Brady
A bitter wind blew out of the north and the skies were dull and grey
When, spreading swiftly, the news went forth that Brady had passed away.
And in many a hut and minder’s shack and in many a shearing-shed
The men who toil in the great outback mourned for an old mate dead.
For Brady was ever a restless soul, a rover by land and sea,
He saw life clearly and saw it whole, and a minstrel born was he.
He loved the bush and the open plains, the light of the western stars,
The clink-clink-clink of the hobble-chains and the wind in the green belars.
He sang of the woods and the wilderness, he sang of the Spanish Main,
Of the gallant sailors of good Queen Bess, who harried the ships of Spain,
Of the clipper-ships of the Indian trade running the Easters down
With every inch of canvas spread, hell-bent for London town.
Back in the long-departed years a spirit of vague unrest
Stirred in the hearts of the pioneers from east to the farthest west.
The first faint flicker of nationhood, a vision of things to be,
A mighty nation – one faith, one blood – united from sea to sea.
Then Lawson, Brady and Quinn betimes, united to wield the pen
To tell the tale in their stirring rhymes of the hopes and the fears of men.
Quinn and Lawson have long since passed with the tasks of their lives
fulfilled;
Now Brady follows with faith held fast in the nation he helped to build.
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He has launched his barque on a timeless sea, to follow a guiding star,
He has heard from the bourne of eternity the call of his mates afar:
When he comes to the end of his last long quest may the beacons brightly burn
And his roving spirit at last find rest in the post of No Return.
Edward Harrington,
The Bulletin, 13.8.1952.