Macquarie Harbour jailers lock 
the sullen gates no more..... 
but lash-strokes sound in every shock 
of ocean on the dismal rocks 
along that barren shore. 

No more the bolters hear the hound 
that bays upon the wind, 
and terror-spurred kepp onward-bound 
until they drop upon the ground 
starved and terror-pinned.... 

But gales that whine among the hills 
sniff at the savage tracks 
the hopeless took. The snowfall fills 
bleak ranges; then the moonlight spills 
broad arows on their backs.