Eliza Dunlop's Gibber gunyah 1839

| Australian Aboriginal / Indigenous / First Nations Archive |

Elizabeth Hamilton Dunlop

Contents

1. Introduction
2. The Aboriginal Mother 1838
3. Gibber gunyah 1839
4. The Eagle Chief 1842
5. References

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1. Introduction

Elizabeth Hamilton Dunlop (1796-1880) was an Irish-born woman who arrived as a free settler in New South Wales, Australia, during February 1838 with a husband and four children. The family settled in the Hunter Valley region, north of Sydney, in a property known as Mulla Villa at Wollombi. Her husband was appointed Police Magistrate and Protector of Aborigines. Almost immediately Eliza began reflecting on her new situation through poetry, as she had done before arriving in Australia. At the end of the year she achieved both notoriety and fame when she published The Aboriginal Mother, a reflection on the Myall Creek massacre of more than 28 Aboriginal people on 10 June.1838. Eliza maintained an interest in local Aboriginal culture and language through the remainder of her life, leaving behind significant manuscripts such as word lists and stories. Some of her most important Indigenous-related poems effusions included The Aboriginal Mother (1838), Gibber gunyah (1839) and The Eagle Chief (1842). These are discussed below.

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2. The Aboriginal Mother 1838

This was an infamous / famous poem published by Eliza Dunlop in The Australian Sydney newspaper on 13 December 1838, five days before seven men were hanged for their part in the Myall Creek massacre of that year. It reads as follows:

Original Poetry.

SONGS OF AN EXILE. (No. 4.)

THE ABORIGINAL MOTHER,
(From Myall's Creek.)

Oh! hush thee — hush my baby,
I may not tend thee yet.
Our forest home is distant far,
And midnight's star is set.
Now, hush thee — or the pale-faced men
Will hear thy piercing wail,
And what would then thy mother's tears
Or feeble strength avail !

Oh, could'st thy little bosom
That mother's torture feel,
Or could'st thou know thy father lies
Struck down by English steel ;
Thy tender form would wither,
Like the kniven on the sand,
And the spirit of my perished tribe
Would vanish from our land.

For thy young life, my precious,
I fly the field of blood,
Else had, I for my chieftain's sake,
Defied them where they stood ;
But basely bound my woman arm,
No weapon might it wield :
I could but cling round him I loved,
To make my heart a shield.

I saw my firstborn treasure
Lie headless at my feet,
The gore on this hapless breast,
In his life-stream is wet !
And thou ! I snatch'd thee from their sword,
It harmless pass'd by thee !
But clave the binding cords — and gave,
Haply, the power to flee.

To flee ! my babe—but whither ?
Without my friend—my guide?
The blood that was our strength is shed !
He is not by my side !
Thy sire ! oh ! never, never,
Shall Toon Bakra hear our cry :
My bold and stately mountain-bird !
I thought not he could die.

Now who will teach thee, dearest,
To poise the shield, and spear,
To wield the koopin, or to throw
The boommerring, void of fear ;
To breast the river in its height ;
The mountain tracks to tread ?
The echoes of my homeless heart
Reply—the dead, the dead !

And ever must their murmur
Like an ocean torrent flow :
The parted voice comes never back,
To cheer our lonely woe ;
Even in the region of our tribe,
Beside our summer streams,
'Tis but a hollow symphony —
In the shadow-land of dreams.

Oh hush thee, dear — for weary
And faint I bear thee on —
His name is on thy gentle lips,
My child, my child, he's gone !
Gone o'er the golden fields that lie
Beyond the rolling cloud,
To bring thy people's murder cry
Before the Christian's God.

Yes ! o'er the stars that guide us,
He brings my slaughter'd boy :
To shew their God how treacherously
The stranger men destroy ;
To tell how hands in friendship pledged
Piled high the fatal pire ;
To tell—to tell of the gloomy ridge ;
And the stockmen's human fire.
E. H. D.

The poem generated a deal of discussion and commentary in the local press. A significant commentary on the poem appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald of 15 October 1841:

THE ABORIGINAL MOTHER.

"Only one female and her child got away from us."
Evidence before the Supreme Court.

On, hush thee, hush, my baby, I may not tend thee yet,
Our forest land is distant far, and midnight-star is set,
Now hush thee, or the pale-faced men will hear thy piercing wail,
And what would then thy mother's tears or feeble strengthavail.

Ah, could thy little bosom that mother's anguish feel,
Or couldst thou know thy father lies struck down by English steel,
Thy tender form would wither, like the kniven on the sand,
And the spirit of my perish'd tribe would vanish from our land.

For thy young life, my precious, I fly the fields of blood,
Else I had, for my chieftain's sake, defied them where they stood;
But basely bound, my woman arm, no weapon might it wield,
I could but cling round him I loved, to make my heart his shield.

I saw my first-born treasure lie headless at my feet,
The gooroo on his mother's breast with his life's stream is wet;
And thou, I snatch'd thee from their sword, it harmless pass'd by thee,
But clave the binding cords, and gave the coward boon — to flee.

To flee, my babe! but whither, without our friend, our guide?
The blood that was our strength is shed — he is not by my side.
Thy sire! oh! never never can Toonboohra hear our cry,
My bold, my stately mountain bird! I thought not he could die.

Now, who will teach thee, dearest, to poise the shield and spear,
To wield the koopin, or to throw the boomerang void of fear,
To breast the river in its might, the mountain tracks to tread?
The echoes of my homeless heart reply, "the dead! the dead!"

For ever must their murmurs, like the ocean torrent, flow, —
The parted voice comes never back to cheer our lonely woe;
E'en in the region of our tribe, beside our summer streams,
'Tis as a hollow symphony from the shadow-land of dreams.

Nay, hush thee, dear; for weary and faint I bear thee on
His name is on thy gentle lips; my child, my child, he's gone!
Gone o'er the golden fields that lie beyond the rolling cloud,
To bring thy people's murder-cry before the Christian's God.

Yes, o'er the stars that guide us, he leads my slaughter'd boy,
To show their God how treacherously these stranger men destroy;
To tell of hands — the cruel hands — that piled the fatal pyre,
To show our blood on Myab's ridge, our bones on the stockman's fire.

The above lines are from the pen of Mrs. Dunlop of the Wollombi, who sent them to Mr. Nathan; they have been set to music by that gentlemen, and will be sung at his approaching concert by Miss Nathan with full orchestral accompaniment. The words are pathetic, and display much poetic feeling, but they ascribe to the aboriginal woman words that might have been used by a North American Indian, but which our very slight acquaintance with the natives of this colony would enable any one to say never issued from the mouth of the woman who escaped from the New England massacre for which, we may remark, seven men were executed in Sydney. The lines will no doubt be copied in England where they are almost sure to be popular.

A response also appeared in the issue of 29 November 1841, with an editorial critical of Dunlop, who is incorrectly referred to therein as a man.

THE ABORIGINAL MOTHER.

Prejudicta opini obruit justicium.

[Prejudices of opinion overwhelm justice]

The author of the 'Aboriginal Mother' takes leave to notice the favor bestowed on that poem, by the learned correspondent of the Sydney Herald, and to return acknowledgments for the candid review, and graphic delineation of how such a matter should have been represented, to meet as well, "the color of the times" as his conceptions of a New South Wales audience. Admitting his critical acumen in discerning that the Aboriginal Mother was not calculated for the meridian of Sydney, it is added that it was not intended for any of the high southern latitudes, but however much the idea is to be deprecated by Supers and Stock-men — had its origin in the hope of awaking the sympathies of the English nation for a people whom it is averred, are rendered desperate and revengeful by continued acts of outrage. Painfully sensible of great literary demerit; of a deficiency in poetical imagery — but above all in having such mal-a-propos taste as to select so inexpedient a subject — still the sarcasm of "Thorough-bass" cannot render that song worthless, which a hand long used to bestow, and to reap laurels, has now stamped with extrinsic value. The erudite reviewer decides, as an anomalism, the idea of attributing the sweetest emotions of the heart—the feelings of mother and wife to an untutored savage—or moral courage to a wild denizen of nature's solitudes! Yet, the error rests not with the poet. The pool of Bethesda lay deep and pure, although the impotent man lingered in the porch ; so do the clear well-springs of love and kindred ties, bestow their healing influences, even now, for the children of the desert ; albeit, either "cohesively or repulsively" the "grave" tones of Thorough-bass, devoid all "harmonics of the string," send their "lateral vibration" through the Balaam-box of the Sydney Herald.

True, those deep tones will be reflected, aye, and multiplied, by far-off echoes of old hands licensed to cry havock beyond the boundaries. But the author of the Aboriginal Mother did hope, that, even in Australia, the time was past, when the public press would lend its countenance to debase the native character, or support an attempt to shade with ridicule, ties stronger than death, which bind the heart of woman, be she Christian or savage.

Extract from the papers of an officer employed on the Government Survey of New South Wales, published by a Committee of the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge.

I had proceeded about a quarter of a mile, when my attention was attracted by sounds of human voices wailing in wild and melancholy strains, I soon perceived before me three native women sitting by a grave, their heads were depressed and neatly touching each other, they were striking their heads with a tomahawk and blood ran down on the back of the neck and ears-I called to them in vain, I went nearer and pulled one by her opossum skin cloak, and succeeded in making her look up; but when she did, I may safely assert, it would be impossible to behold a more wretched creature, she was the picture of utter anguish and despair, tears were falling in fast succession down her cheeks; the same was the case with the others; she muttered something and then dropped her head again, wailing as before in all the bitterness of agonising grief; whether she invoked the dead as able to hear beyond the grave, or wounded her head to soothe the parted spirit of a relative is yet a mystery. It is, however, a custom of the Aboriginal females thus to mourn over the tombs of their dead; and it is evident such excessive weeping can only arise from natural affection.

[Mrs. Dunlop is under a mistake in supposing that "deficiency in poetical imagery" is an offence with which she is chargeable. We complained of her having by means of poetical talent, of no mean order, given an entirely false idea of the native character ; and that opinion we see no cause to alter. Eds.]

Also published by Isaac Nathan and Eliza Dunlop during 1842 was a score for The Aboriginal Mother.

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3. Gibber gunyah 1839

In a piece published in the Sydney Morning Herald on 11 October 1848 an original piece of Australian Aboriginal verse is presented, along with a translation by Elizabeth Hamilton Dunlop (1796-1880) of Mulla Villa, Wollumbi, New South Wales in the Hunter River district. It reads as follows:

NATIVE POETRY.

Nung-Ngnun.
Nge a runba wonung bulkirra umbilinto bulwarra;
Pital burra kultan wirripang buntoa

Nung-Ngnun
Nge a runba turrama berrambo, burra kilkoa:
Kurri wi, raratoa yella walliko,
Yulo Moane, woinyo, birung poro bulliko,

Nung-Ngnun
Nge a rumba kan wullung, Makoro, kokein,
Mip-pa-rai, kekul, wimbi murr ring kirrika:
Nge a runba mura ké-en kulbun kulbun murrung.

There is a god of Poetry, Wallatu, who composes music, and who, without temple, shrine, or statue, is as universally acknowledged as if his oracles were breathed by Belus or Csiris: he comes in dreams, and transports the individual to some sunny hill, where he is inspired with the supernatural gift.

E. H. Dunlop.
Mulla Villa, September 25.

Translated and Versified by Mrs. Dunlop.

Our home is the gibber-gunyah,
Where hill joins hill on high;
Where the turruma and berrambo,
Like sleeping serpents lie;——
And the rushing of wings, as the wangas pass,
Sweeps the wallaby's print from the glistening grass.

Ours are the makoro gliding,
Deep in the shady pool:
For our spear is sure, and the prey secure--
Kanin, or the bright gherool.
Our lubras sleep by the bato clear,
That the Amygest's track hath never been near.

Ours is the koolema flowing,
With precious kirrika stored:
For fleet the foot, and keen the eye,
That seeks the nukkung's hoard;--
And the glances are bright, and the footsteps are free,
When we dance in the shade ot the karakun tree.

Gibber-gunya — Cave in the rock.
Turruna and Berrambo — War arms.
Wanga — A species of pigeon.
Makoro — Fish.
Amygest — White-fellow.
Kanim — Eel.
Gheerool — Mullet.
Bato — Water.
Kirrika — Honey.
Nukkung — Wild bee.
Karrakun — The oak-tree.

In Waugh's Australian Almanac for 1858 a reference to this appeared as follows:

Aborigines of Australia.

THE MUSES. — POETRY.

THERE are poets among the Aborigines of New South Wales, who compose songs, which are sung and danced to by their own tribe in the first instance, after which, other tribes learn the song and dance, being taught by itinerant professors, who go from tribe to tribe, throughout the country, until, from the change of dialect, the very words are not understood correctly by distant blacks.

A lady, Mrs. E. H. Dunlop, published, some years ago, in one of the Sydney papers, a specimen of "Native Poetry," and states thus :—"There is a god of Poesy, Wúllati, who composes music, and who, without temple, shrine, or statue, is as universally acknowledged as if his oracles were breathed by Belus or Osiris ; he comes in dreams, and transports the individual to some sunny hill, where he is inspired with the supernatural gift."

This very individual, Wúllati, or as the white folk used to call him, Wollaje — always confounding the sound of t with a j, — lived near to our establishment. He was esteemed highly by the tribes, and in an increasing ratio as they were nigh or more distant from this individual. No doubt he formed the delightful subject of the evening soirees, and also of their midnight dreams. He favoured me several times with his company, and perhaps thought it an honour when he made proposals to me for a matrimonial alliance with one of the members of my family, much to the amusement of us all. He was a very old, thin, small-headed, bald man, of a most cheerful disposition, with a smile always on his countenance, except in the presence of strangers; and whenever he came to our tribe his company was much enjoyed, an evening feast was provided, and the choicest tit-bits were set before the toothless guest. Oft were his gibes wont to set their table—on the green grass—in a roar of laughter, and their festive board—generally the bark of a tree—was enlivened before it ended in the midnight hour, with his song and dance, assisted with his own voice and musical accompaniment of two sticks, beating time to the divine inspiration of the sacred muse.

The following song, composed by Wúllati, translated and published some years ago by Mrs. E. H. Dunlop, is an excellent specimen of the poetry of the Aborigines, and ought not to be lost, though the poet and his tribe are now no more :— .....

Herein after there appeared a copy of the Gibber-gunyah verse and Dunlop's translation.

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4. The Eagle Chief 1842

During 1842 music score entitled The Eagle Chief and dealing with an Australian Aboriginal crystal carried by certain males was published by composer Isaac Nathan (1790-1864) and poet E.H. Dunlop. A review in the Sydney Morning Herald of 19 April 1842 reads as follows:

The Eagle Chief; An Australian Melody, By I. Nathan. Words by E.H. Dunlop.

This composition is the first concerted musical production of Australia, set to a beautiful poem written expressly for the composer by Mrs. Dunlop. We scarcely know which to admire most, the music or the poetry. The melody, which is simple and pleasing, is perfectly descriptive of the poet's ideas, and is arranged as a solo and quartetto, not with common namby-pamby harmony of thirds and their inverted sixes, but by rich and well chosen chords, such as A 4 7, judiciously prepared 9ths, &c, which may be observed on the two accented parts of the second bar, - at the commencement of the quartetto, page 2. The accented note of the second bar of the air, page 1, is accompanied with a 7th prepared in the unaccented part of the preceding bar, which elegantly resolves on the 6th, with the suspension of the major third, to the holding note A in the bass. This chord, with all its inversions and positions, is treated ingeniously, in a masterly style, throughout the composition. In the fifth bar we have the same chord, with the addition of a well prepared 9th. The 9th is again effectively given on the second accent of the same bar, and carried on occasionally with much discretion in various parts of the composition.

The Eagle Chief, page 1. Collection: National Library of Australia.

The dischord of A 4 8, which in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred would be grating to the ear, is most effectively given on the last unaccented note of the 6th bar, page 6. In fact, the whole composition abounds in well-selected chords, scientifically dispersed, which must at all times tend to relieve the ear from monotony, animate and enrich n composition, and give force and expression to the words. Of this Mr. Nathan seems perfectly aware, by the production of his Eagle Chief.

We have already said that we admire the words as a beautiful specimen of poetry — we cannot do otherwise; but we agree with our contemporary, the Herald, that Mrs. Dunlop, in giving free scope to her poetical imagination, outstrips, in some measure, the bounds of nature in making the Aborigines drink bumper after bumper to each other. How far the history of the 'dazzling gem' may be correct, we will not say, our contemporary having already given a fair critique on the subject; but for the satisfaction of our readers, we subjoin Mrs. Dunlop's well written and interesting note, as published on the title-page of the 'Eagle Chief': —

'The Chiefs, as also many of the braves, or fighting men, wear, in a secret nook of their girdle (which is spun from opossum hair by the lubra, or gin,) a piece of crystal, or adamant, on which none of their females are ever permitted to look. I have prayed for a peep at one worn by the Wollombi Chief, who, not absolutely refusing my request, yet evaded it by saying what I know imported some strange affinity between 'ladies' eyes' and 'bad luck.' To my Hibernian ear, the sentence contained a host of argument, quite sufficient to deter me from any further effort to look on the mystic gem; which, I believe, is either an object of worship, or held as a means of communication with a great mysterious power, whose wrath they seem to fear.' — E. H. D.

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5. References

Aborigines of Australia. The Muses - Poetry, Waugh's Australian Almanac for 1858, reproduced in The Band of Hope - Journal of the Australian Home Companion, Sydney, 5 June 1858.

Anonymous, The Aboriginal Mother [review], Sydney Morning Herald, 29 November 1841.

Dunlop, E.H., The Aboriginal Mother, The Australian, Sydney, 13 December 1838.

-----, Native Poetry, Sydney Morning Herald, 10 October 1848.

Eliza Hamilton Dunlop (55 works by) (birth name: Eliza Hamilton) (a.k.a. Eliza Law; E.H.Dunlop, AusLit Database, 2011.

Gibber gunyah [stone dwelling / cave dwelling] in The Slaughterhouse: or, Camden in the olden Time, Tegg's Monthly Magazine, Sydney, May 1836, page 136.

Gunson, Neil, Elizabeth Hamilton Dunlop (1796-1880, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian National University, Canberra, volume 1, 1966.

Hansord, Kate, A Forgotten Colonial Woman Poet, Tinean, 6 November 2015.

Johnston, Anna, Mrs Milson’s Wordlist: Eliza Hamilton Dunlop and the Intimacy of Linguist Work, in Penelope Edmonds & Amanda Nettelbeck (editors), Violence in the Settler Colony: Economies of Dispossession around the Pacific Rim, Palgrave Macmillan, 2018.

-----, Hidden women of history: Elizabeth Hamilton Dunlop, the Irish poet who shone a light on colonial violence, The Conversation, 17 June 2021.

----- and Elizabeth Webby (editors), Eliza Hamilton Dunlop: Writing from the Colonial Frontier, Sydney Studies in Australian Literature, University Press, 2021, 252p.

Monday musings on Australian literature: Forgotten writers 2 - Eliza Hamilton Dunlop, Whispering Gums [blog], 28 June 2021.

Musgrove, Nell, Eliza Dunlop, More Than Our Childhoods, Australian Catholic University, accessed 25 October 2025.

Myall Creek massacre, National Museum of Australia, Canberra, accessed 25 October 2025.

Nathan, Isaac and Elizabeth Dunlop, The Aboriginal Mother [score], Sydney, 1842.

-----, The Eagle Chief, [score], Sydney, 1842, 10p.

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| Australian Aboriginal / Indigenous / First Nations Archive |

Last updated: 25 October 2025

Michael Organ, Australia