The Poetry of South Africa. Various

And sought my lost love in the far Bovenland.

      “I found her; I bore her from Gauritz’ fair glen,

       Through lone Zitzikamma, by forest and fen.

       To these mountains at last like wild pigeons we flew,

       Far, far from the cold hearts of proud Camdebóo.

      “I’ve reared our rude shieling by Gola’s green wood,

       Where the chase of the deer yields me pastime and food:

       With my Dinah and children I dwell here alone,

       Without other comrades—and wishing for none.

      “I fear not the Bushman from Winterberg’s fell,

       Nor dread I the Caffer from Kat River’s dell;

       By justice and kindness I’ve conquered them both,

       And the sons of the desert have pledged me their troth.

      “I fear not the leopard that lurks in the wood,

       The lion I dread not, though raging for blood;

       My hand it is steady—my aim it is sure—

       And the boldest must bend to my long-barrelled roer.

      “The elephant’s buff-coat my bullet can pierce,

       And the giant rhinoceros, headlong and fierce;

       Gnu, eland, and buffalo furnish my board,

       When I feast my allies like an African lord.

      “And thus from my kindred and colour exiled,

       I live like old Ismael lord of the wild—

       And follow the chase with my hounds and my gun,

       Nor ever repent the bold course I have run.

      “But sometimes there sinks on my spirit a dread

       Of what may befall when the turf’s on my head;

       I fear for poor Dinah—for brown Rodomond

       And dimple-faced Karel, the sons of the bond.

      “Then tell me, dear Stranger, from England the free,

       What good tidings bring’st thou for Arend Plessie?

       Shall the Edict of Mercy be sent forth at last,

       To break the harsh fetters of Colour and Caste?”

       Thomas Pringle.

THE EMIGRANT’S CABIN AT THE CAPE. AN EPISTLE IN RHYME.

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