A 3 8 6 7 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES v. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA ON TOPICS PRINCIPALLY MODERN. BY STAFFORD CRUIKSHANKS. Author of "Predestination," "Tales," &c. IMPROVED EDITION-COMPLETE. " I hate when Vice ran bolt her argiunents, And Virtue has no tongue to cheek her pride." Milton. LONDON: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY JOHN B. CJURSONS, 11, SAINT BRIDE STREET, CITY. 18 8 1. PR 3SoS PREFACE. MY South Afeican Lays have all been written in South Africa, and are so far, at least, true to their title, as 'r€& most of them will also be found in other respects. The exceptions will not, perhaps, offend by number or irrelevancy. This I wish to say without claiming any par- ticular acquaintance with the country, or knowledge of it, beyond what is within the reach of any observer not remark- able for dulness. Yet some things in this book may appear new, even to South African readers ; many of whom may not know, till informed here, that the "Meteor Scene" was a reality, or that "Bog-na-fin" — of disputed etj-mology — is a suburb of Grahamstown. A heartfelt desire shall be accomplished if any good, in the way of instruction or even of amusement, can in this way be imparted to the Reading Public, especially the young, whose approbation has already gone far towards making me indifferent to the dictum of professional fault- finders, to whom literary criticism is pretty much what politics was to Craig in "Adam Bede" ■— a thing rather of assumed than actual intuition. Surely, reader, it has often struck you as somewhat anomalous, that while not one in A VI PREFACE. ten thousand is a poet, almost every man is a critic ? Is it worthy of Nature to fancy that she works so irregularly ? From the true critic little, indeed, is to be appre- hended. Where he cannot approve, he censures with fairness. If too much in fashion to countenance a living Banim, or Clare, or Clarence Mangan, he is also too humane to wish him dead. He can, and doubtless will, in the present instance make some allowance for efforts prosecuted amid the duties of more than one arduous calling, and in the face of difficulties and obstructions not to be recounted here. It may possibly be asked if I desire any comparison with men like those named above ; but the enquirer will please divide with me the responsi- bility of replying. He may himself be a pursuer of knowledge under difficulties, and certainly not the less so, though a rigid investigation should have the effect of proving him inferior to Archimedes — I mean, of course, in success ! Every warrior cannot easily conquer an old world, nor every explorer discover a new one. Still there exists a certain literary exclusiveness. Poetry is not recognised in our midst. Distance must "lend enchantment to the view." Some would seem to believe that the "count" of poets is made up, and that the "bright roll" — -as Keats expresses it — "is in Apollo's hand." Others are exclusive in a different way ; we have seen what its writer called an "Essay on Three Living Poets," which essay is proscriptive enough in its very title. But really if criticism of this character be worth anything, PREFACE. Vll we should have more of it. What, for instance, would our essayist think of a dissertation on "Three Living- Physicians," " Three Living Divines," or " Three Living Soldiers?" Should he find such production written to his own exclusion — assuming him to be an Esculapian, an ornament to Holy Orders, or an officer of the line — is there nothing which Tie's next critique would have to urge against narrow-mindedness, Fadladeen intolerance, and so forth ? The criticisms of Luke Milbourne may convince us that Dryden was not Virgil; but we know, without any criticism at all, that the reverend critic himself was not Paul, nor yet Augustine. To mere word-critics, as a body, I must confess as a certain amount of indifference, till I am informed what book, document, or composition is sacred to them ; and an equal indifference to censors of another order, who discover that my sentiments on Temperance do not tally with those enunciated in a few camp ditties, penned in earlier life. If they are foes — as some one has said of similar aasailants — let them enjoy their triumph ; and if friends, they will be glad of my reformation. A few words on the question of responsibility may be added here. No line or sentence ever finds its way into my publications by dictation or advice. It is all very fine for men to pretend to have written for their own amuse- ment, and published by the solicitation of friends, or to counteract spurious Editions, &c. I, at all events, shall not try to deceive anyone by suchlike artifices, which, after a 2 Vlll PREFACE. all, cannot deceive so very many ! No man writes who is not conscious of abilities of some sort, and quite as vain of them as any friends can be. Instances I forbear citing. For the good cause of Truth, I cannot but feel humili- ated in having done so little ! To have projected great things may have been among my earlier fancies ; but who can recall the past or trust to the future ? For the pre- sent, kind reader, whether in South Africa or elsewhere, I say Farewell ; wishing you all happiness. 1 ^eritcts vos in Mbertatem vindicabit. KmownvLiAMSTOWN, Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, 1881. ,r» k ©©•» S). p ONTENTS. Jfirst Series. Pkefaoe Lay the First (Introduction) PASTORALS. I II III IV Bog-na-fln Voluntaryism Blacks and "Whites . . Teddy on Tramp V. September in Africa VI. The Lamented Settler EPISTLES. I. The Land of Bums II. To the Honourable W. Porter in. To a Lady IV. To Another MISCELLANEOUS. I. II. in. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII The Poet's Vision . Patronage : An Ode The Bard's Plea : A Lyric Ballad The Dead Ostrich The Southern Cross The Meteor Scene The Suicide The Hymn, "Te Deum," Versified IX. On the Opening of the Douglas Reservoir X. Hector and Ajax PAGE v . 1 4 14 17 20 23 2(i 30 32 35 3G 37 38 39 40 42 43 44 40 47 49 X CONTENTS. Miscellaneous — Continued. XI. Jack Ketch XII. The Martyr's Dream XIII. Lines to a Young Student XIV. Satire on Apologists XV. The Vision of Lintot XVI. Elegy on the Supposed Death of Livingstone XVII. Livingstone Alive ! . . XVIII Ode on the Arrival of Prince Alfred XIX. Bussell's Escape XX. The Musing Millionaire SONGS. I. The Purling Kill II. The Mexican Martyr III. The Overland Rout(e) IV. The Albany Hall V. Prospect Place VI. The Dutch Wars VII. The New Dodge VIII. South African Prospects in 1870 . . PAGE . 51 . 52 . 53 . 53 . 54 . 50 . 57 . 59 . 61 . 62 05 66 68 69 70 72 73 75 Scconb Series. PASTORALS. I. Street Loafers II. New Church at Oatlands MISCELLANEOU! I. British Settlers' Year of Jubilee II. Elijah at Horeb III. The Avaricious Peeler IV. The Holy Storenian V. Lines on Woodroffe's Glass Steam Engine VI. The Great Dentist VII. Death's Curate, Will VIII. The Velocipede . . • .. 77 84 88 .. 92 . 93 . . 96 ae .. 99 .. .. 100 .. 101 .. .. 102 CONTENTS. XI Miscellaneous — Con tin ued. IX. St. George and the Dragon X. The Cape Reformer . . XI. Dives Eedivivus XII. To Dives at Home . . XIII. The Kirk's New Alarm XIV. The Philistine Location XV. Stanzas to the Honourable W. Porter XVI. Primate Gray's Successor XVII. Case of Mr. T. Leonard XVIII. Temperance Alphabetical Ithyme SONGS. I. The Boys of the Vaal II. The Diamond Diggers' Ditty III. The Post Office Robbery . . PAGE . 103 . 10-4 . 100 . 107 . 10 It . Ill . 113 . 114 . 115 . 117 118 119 121 ELEGIAC POEMS. I. The Imperial Collapse IL On the Announced Death of Marshal Macmahon III. The Fall of Paris IV. On the Death of E. Atherstone V. On a Child VI. Alicia VII. Lavinia VIII. On the Demise of A. O. Wood IX. Sacred to the Memory of T. Langford X. Philip the Just 123 125 126 128 130 131 132 133 135 137 Cjririt Merits. MISCELLANEOUS. I. Volunteering II. "Who's Who in Grahamstown III. Isandala ! IV. Horatio and Emmeline 139 142 145 140 Ml CONTENTS. Miscellaneous — Continued. V. The Pilgrim Insolvent VI. Ode on Seeing a MS. Letter of Burns VII. Elegy on Mr. H. Lynar VIII. Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. W. B. Chalmers IX. Answer to Legend of Decanus X. On the Death of an Infant XI. On Another Infant XII. On Woodroffe's Glass Steam Engine XIII. The Monarchs of England XIV. Cyprus : an Ode XV. Bar Portraits . . XVI. Enigma XVII. Enigma XVIII. Enigma XIX. Petition to a Licensing Board XX. The Wonderful Baby XXI. On the Death of the Honourable W. Porter XXII. The Modern Busy Bee SONGS. I. The Good Templar's Song II. The Tortured Ox III. The Mormon's Lament IV. Algoa Bay Epigrams The Taproom Discussion Finis PAGE 149 151 153 155 157 159 1G0 161 162 163 165 166 167 168 169 171 173 175 176 178 180 182 184 196 215 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Jf i r s t Sjeri.es, LAY THE FIRST. INTRODUCTION. Isle of Saints ! — 'tis as yesterday, I took sad leave of thy mountains gay ; Which I still behold, by a deathless spell, My heart, at least, never bade thee farewell ! Canaan of hope, from this Pisgah seen, Thou Paradise, with a gulf between ; I love to bless thee, far, far away, — With a heart whose fondness will ne'er decay : With a memory, nought can from thee estrange Too much alive to the dismal change. O, ever distant, yet ever near ; For child of thine, what a land is here ! 'Tis the land of Ham, where, as travellers say, Less savage than man is the beast of prey ; Where the stranger turns his sunken eye, To a parched up veld, and a lurid sky ; 'Tis Libya, minus the oasis green, — 'Tis Araby's waste, where no manna is seen, — 'Tis the land of Ophir, without the gold, — The land of sin and its fruits untold, — Fresh native sin, and imported vice, 'Tis not my country ; let that suffice ! 15 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Yet fate nor chance shall forbid my hand, To strike the harp in a foreign land — And sound defiance to grim Despair — No land is foreign, while God is there ; His paternal love, to one sect or tribe, My heart never learnt to circumscribe. Does a mortal descent from Adam claim, "Who, for rank or caste, I could praise or blame ? Does a soul exist, in this earthly state, For his creed or chme, I could love or hate ? No ! the varied dyes of " sinner " and " saint." Every man, in my eyes, for himself must paint,— Mankind are the brethren of my love ; My temple — the starry vault above. Then, from Censure's shaft, or the frown of Pride, In the cause of Truth shall I turn aside ? Or say, and unsay, to suit the times ? Make crimes of virtues, and virtues of crimes ? Or smile, or frown, as by fashions taught ? For ever perish, unworthy thought ! My muse shall end as she first begun, Though, in a myriad, she please but one ; And patronage, from court or kraal, Shall honestly come, if it comes at all. Hail Patronage ! Muse of many a song ; "Whose palmier days to Utopia belong, — "When shall Apollo stand or seem, High as Hephaestus in thy esteem ? "When shall thy votaries cease to conceal, The blessings of many a Barmecide meal ? Sound, "mighty mother," your brass trombone ! Even to Philomath make yourself known ; Reward the toils he must undergo, Like Aladdin's feigned uncle, with a blow ; Demand his lamp, yet refuse to save Its doomed possessor from a living grave. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Meantime, in a day, when siren Vice, Would the hardy swain to her toils entice, When the matron wise, and the bashful maid, Has a Comus to baffle in every shade, — When the heartless poisoner, hi solitudes, ■ The ken of Justice no more eludes, — But behind her segis, his goblet tills, And, in guise of friendship, his victim kills, — At such a time would it not be well Some captive to save from the Circean spell — Hunt out the den of the poison cheer, And write on its portals : — " Come not here ? " Such task be mine, — the sublimer muse- In saloons and camps may her heroes choose, — In strains as lofty as Homer's sing, The fall of the Ethiopian King, — How immense Columbia, — sage and brave, Has stooped to unshackle her meanest slave, Or haply predict, in holier strain, The triumph of freedom on land and main. Prediction blest ! may it echo far, From the morning sun to the vesper star ; Till the kings of earth their contentions cease, And rival our Queen in the arts of Peace. In the strife abroad, betwixt Good and 111, There's a side to be chosen — a task to fulfil ; And regardless what hand would seem to prevail, We must not halt between God and Baal. Then Muse, awake ! to old age and youth, Sound a note, at least, in the cause of Truth ! Survey thy task, and improve the boon, — ■ We have right on our side ; we'll have fashion soon. B 2 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. PASTORALS- i. BOG-NA-FIN. PART 1. The rosy god, a spree in New-street wills — And many a tap its spicy foam distils : "What time our Outspan lingers near the kloof, And ditties echo to the starry roof. Oskar and Karl,— a tuneful Bog-na-Fin, Discuss the merits of Cape smoke and gin ; Invoke the muses to a rhyming fray, And ask Tyce-jury to decide the day. TYCE-JURY. Commence, sweet choristers ! I love to hear The rival melodies of voices clear ; You've drank enough ! now valiantly begin ; The victor proud shall claim this flask of gin ! OSKAR. High is the crescive moon — and higher far, If books tell truth — the nearest diamond star ; But how much higher my devotion time, Immortal Bacchus! evermore to you! KARL. Sublime and lovely are the orbs of Night, And fairer yet, the heavens beyond our sight ! Still heaven itself, and every hope of bliss, I dare forego, for such a night as this. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. OSKAE. A father's heart my first intemperance broke ; A widowed mother sank beneath the stroke ; Wife, sister, daughter, now bemoan my fall — But, in tins cup, I can forget them all. KARL. My parents both in raving horrors died ; A sottish uncle was my early guide ; His dying gasp a warning did proclaim — I saw then* path — yet venture on the same. OSKAR. You'll not believe it, — but a time has been, "When I had blushed to enter yon canteen ! And now, by Jove, in company with Ketch, I there could swill, three evenings at a stretch. KARL. Like me ! — "When first I nibbled at a wet, I scarce had nerve the tumbler to upset, Now many a night in glorious Bog-na-Fin, I've gone to Morphceus, on a quart of gin. OSKAR. I once was stinted to a glass per day ; But for a week had nought to wet my clay ; On Saturday I gulped, with heart elate, Seven extra — for lost time to compensate. KARL. Myself was sworn, a year, to shun the drop — - Inside or outside a retailer's shop ; So, on the threshold, bolt upright I drank, Gin, beer, and rum, like water from the tank. OSKAR. The yielding Fan*, who my acquaintance rue, I proudly boast it ! — have not been a few ! Yet I had failed, one victory to win, In Cupid's field, without the aid of gin. 6 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. KARL. A dame I boast, worth all your yielding tribe — With virtue California could not bribe ; We quarrelled yesterday ; and no amends, Would either yield — till Bacchus made us friends. OSKAR. Bacchus divine ! what martyr at the stake Endured the pangs I suffered for your sake ? Curst town, I say ; a fellow can't get drunk, But in he's shoved to that infernal tronk ! KARL. Your hand, my chum ! last night I thought to he, Outside, till Sol should paint the Orient sky ; Bright orb ! it visited my pillow damp : Not smiling Phoebus, but the Bobby's lamp. OSKAR. What potent deity (come, tell me now ; Arid I shall yield the laurels to your brow ;) Reserves, at last, the horror of his woes, For faithful friends — but smiles upon his foes 1 KARL. I'll solve the riddle, when you teU to me The name of that still greater deity, That every sect is willing to adore, Without one hypocrite, from shore to shore. TYCE-JURY. Knock off, my warblers, — you can sing so well, The winning man it poses me to tell ; A future bout your merits may decide, The present prize between you I divide. LAYS OF SOITH AFRICA. PART II A week has passed ; Tyce-jury. with delight, Has wiped his goblets for the bouting night ; Surveyed his purse ; the last half -sovereign changed — Hauled out the table, and the chairs arranged : Thanked all his stars that he is hale and young, Drank twice and swore, to tune his throat and tongue, Received his veld-schoens, from the snob Malay, Who, for a glass, defers the reckoning day. [Shade of Anacreon ! whose lays on wine, Hotels and Taprooms have pronounced chvine ! Forgive his choice, who must, while life endures, Prefer, sweet bard, his eyes and ears to yours.] High Luna soars ; Tj'ce-jury, from his pane, Smiles to that mistress of his soaring brain ; Frowns at his visitors for then- neglect — Who, entering soon, are hailed to this effect : — TYCE-JURY. Oskar and Karl : I'll thank you to relate, What month of Sundays longer must I wait ? You've saved your distance ; or I stoutly tell — This cork, the pah' of you should never smeU ! Yon vile Malay, who cobbles in the kraal, Declares he saw you down at Temperance Hall — But that's a he, to scandalise you both, The nigger knows, I'd disbelieve his oath. OSKAR. Suppose it true ; are we not quite as free, To take a pledge, as you to take a spree ? To will and clo, the lawful right you claim ; Then, to a neighbour, wiry refuse the same ? TYCE-JURY. Bosh ! are you daft— or do you think am I, To waste a moment on the stupid lie ? If sign you must — fork out your owing tin ; And show 7 your backs to jovial Bog-na-Fin. 8 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. How could you face old Pink-proboscis John % Or talk to stumpy Gerald of " The Swan ? " Or nephew Tim ; the gayest soid alive — "Whose Kowie waggon may to-night arrive ? KARL. It has arrived ! — Alas, poor nephew Tim, Brought back no waggon, but a waggon him! Sot! — never stare ! you trained him well I think, — And, for your comfort, hear, he died by drink. TYCE-JURY. Have mercy, Karl ! the cruel jest unsay, — That, for your welfare, I may ever pray ! Say Tim's all right ; and I can all forgive — Though you sign pledges every day you live. KARL. Talk you of prayer 1 — that too may be a jest ; Your jokes of late are costly, I protest ; Go, joke with Death, — and learn a final trick,— There's something yonder that will touch your quick. TYCE-JTJRY. Ah ! had my dagger that relation slain, I less had writhed beneath the curse of Cain ! Tim killed ! O, Oskar ! let me talk with you— And hear you hope the tale is yet untrue. OSKAR. Could words or hopes accomplish your desire— My heart or tongue no prompting should require ; But Tim no more shall visit Bog na-Fin, — O, End untimely ! — all through cursed gin ! All day, I hear, to drive he seemed unfit : Yet, on the vehicle, contrived to sit, — The beardless leader begged him to get down, — Whose only answer was an angry frown, Drive, drive, he hies — with ghastly maniac face ; On, — on! — at mad accelerated pace; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 9 Crash ! down he comes — the touch of Death to feel ; Cut through the midriff, with his waggon-wheel. KARL. Tyce-jury, shame ! you vex me with those tears, So much unsuited to your sex and years ; They're wise who mend ! — forgotten be the Past ; Show friend and foe you dare be wise at last. TYCE-JTJRY. Farewell, to-night ! — but friends, before you go, Behold me smash these instruments of woe ; To-morrow night— you'll give a friendly call — ■ And our next bout shall be at Temperance Hall. PART III. Ix tuneful, jovial, glorious Bog-na-Fin, That chimes in verse so charmingly with gin, The cry is up, of Bacchus having lost A brace or trio of his standing host — Who, in Tyce-jury's home, next smiling eve, From Temperance Hall returning, quick receive, Some quondam potmates — each ambitious first, To hear good tidings, or to know the worst. In mild debate the friends continue long, But (used at partings to a social song), Propose right rhymefully, a Tilting gay Between Tyce-jury and the Snob Malay. TYCE-JURY. I'm all attention to your fan demands ; And freely leave it to a show of hands ; "What ! no dissentient ? then I must agree — If sport is baulked, it shall not be by me. MALAY. What boots it though in print my verses shine If Europeans wont believe them mine? 10 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. "Tush! " they exclaim, "were you the book to kiss, " 'Tis but the white man who can talk like this." KARL. Come ! break a lance ! who cares what strangers say ? Strike home and hard ; our motto is fair play : In business life, to hear sound sense displayed, Knight of the last and awl ! commend me to your trade. OSKAR. You umpire Karl, — award as best you can, This pair of veldschoens to the winning man; With my best wish that he may wear them long — And hold the sway in love as well as song. MALAY. O, friend Tyce-jury! can you see the moon, Now, round as Sol, but crescent-like full soon — Without reflecting on the dismal change That could your heart to Gerald's tap estrange ? TYCE-JBRY. Friend! I can gaze that glorious orb upon, Without beholding two instead of one; Yet fifty moons — let this not move your wrath — Were little guidance in a drunkard's path. MALAY. That I'm a drunkard, stoutly I deny ! To prove me one, I all the world defy; A groat per day is all I lately tope — What call you this? — not drunkenness I should hope. TYCE-JURY. What call I this ? — a child could prove it, clear Six pounds, one shilling, and eight pence a-year, I call it, friend, a suit from top to toe — Or three months' rent, — no pleasant debt to owe. lays of south africa. 11 ::alay. Give ine the man, whose cautious self-control, Knows when to think, and when to shun the bowl ; But emperor, peer, or peasant, I allege, Drops human dignity, who signs a pledge. TYCE-JURY. Of dropping dignity tis vain to rave — While feUow-men are dropping to the grave ; And worse — to infamy ! nor care to stop, Till Ketch conducts them to another drop. MALAY. The neighbours tell of a teetotaler once, Who kept his pledge, like many a silly dunce, He croaked ; and ere they placed him under ground, A lump of ice was in his stomach found. TYCE-JDRY. They also name a thirsty child of Eve, \\Tio starved his wife, and sent the weans to thieve, Gin stopped his breath ! Post mortem skill was shown ; When, poking for his heart, they found a stone. MALAY. No better Christians — I could safely swear — In Church or Chapel ever breathed a prayer Than some, both in and out of Bog-na-Fin, To whom the glass is a besetting sin. TYCE-JURY. Aye, Christians differ — we can all perceive, Greek, Roman, English, variously believe — Wliite, black, or tawny ; Christians I esteem ; But drunken Christians ! ! Surely, friend, you dream ! MALAY. The prize I yield ; nor grudge my otherthrow, On such a held, to such a generous foe ; Another time I'll proudly meet you here ; Then, as a combatant, 'tis not so clear. 12 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. KAEL. O, brave surrender ! worthy all applause ! No tongue of man could varnish such a cause ; Enough to-night, success to Temperance Hall ; OMNES. Up with the pledge ; and down with Alcohol. PART IV. To Bog-na-Fin we once again repair, Though Karl and Oskar chime no louger there ; Nor yet Tyce-jury ; all — even poor Malay, For health have sought the Kowie or the Bay. Here's Bog-na-fin ! behold it left and right ; Like old Melrose, 'twere better viewed by night, When, to its Bedlam bacchanahan coils, Surrounding districts are so many foils. 'Tis said that dirt a pestilence wiU spread, But that's a fib, else here they all were dead ! At every step, the eye surveys around, Filth nameless ; seventeen ounces to the pound. Neuk, alley, pool, and stream, with every breeze, Emit a perfume fit to smother bees ; Ox-entrails bleach, and lumps of carrion rot, But ne'er seduce one vulture to the spot. And Bog-na-Fin long musical has been ! 'Tis, like the cuckoo, sooner heard than seen ; There no mistaking the symphonious din, That marks, defines, and comforts Bog-na-Fin ; Fit residence for pink-proboscis John, Or, at a push, for Gerald of " The Swan," Good men and true, here slandered in disguise, So mutters Hyper, who mistakes or lies, "Whose grandsire Scrub indulged the flattering whim, That none on earth could laugh, except at him. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 13 Whose great-grand sire in honour would not yield, To Titus Oates, Monteith, or Dangerfield ; "Whose early ancestors still brighter shine, Till Inch hi Hainan, cuhninates the hue. Great Hyper ! he, from heraldry or sire, Nor fame, nor prestige, does or can require ; Half clown, half critic, let him tread the scene, — The mirrored photograph of Faladeen ; And kindly spare his turkey-cock abuse, Of terms— for him — so luckily abstruse. Come ! see the walls where drunken scrivener Jones Was burnt to death ; I saw his cinder bones ; Bich and revered not many summers past, This debt to alcohol he paid at last. There, lower down, behold the fulsome sink, Where navvy Keuby perished in his drink, One midnight black, when gold and sense were gone, Whirled out adrift, by Gerald of " The Swan." Convenient, too, was found the Native child. Alive, with stones upon its bosom piled; Nor distant, far, the corpse of Katberg Ned, Who, from its trunk, half severed his own head. See, yonder hovels, scattered up and down, The nuisance, curse, and gossip of the town ; Where flushed Intemperance and Seduction keep Their nights for revelry, then days for sleep, — And beardless youth unblusliingly retires, To such morality as gin inspires. Fitz-Momus passes ! 'Tis not every day, A sight so rare adorns our chequered way ; Shod, combed, and tailored off — in style as fine, As circus monkey, or a barber's sign — One tufty corner of his face sustains, A polished meerschaum, that would hold his brain; A left-side tuft, this genius of the Cape, Delights in twisting to a needle shape— 14 LAYS OF SOUTH AFEICA. His cat-eye spectacles appear designed, To advertise — that Nature made him blind. But blind or blindfold, he can poke his way ; In Bog-na-Fin, where night, to him, is day ; There reign and revel, none his claims refuse, As worshipful Knight-errant of the Stews. Talk not of statutes ; none we have can bind This man of straw, this libel on his kind ; Whose history proves that, spite of laws and kings, Small rogues wear gyves, and great ones diamond rings ! For thee, sad suburb ; is there no repair ? No balm in Gilead — no physician there ? Yes ! close the tap-room ! with unsparing hand Wipe out the plague-spot from a blighted land. Son, father, brother ! join the grand crusade ; Wife, mother, daughter! lend your gentle aid, Till want and woe, from every dwelling fly, And all your Bog-na-Fins, with scenes Ionian vie. II. VOLUNTARYISM. The streets in Graharnstown show a fan 1 array Of Church attendants, — 'tis the Sabbath day ; No party note the azure welkin swells, Nor sound discordant, save the rival bells ; Blest harmony ! more truly dear to few, Than neighbour Walter, late of the Karroo ; Who, by his side, espies his schoolmate Piet, And him, hi accents bland, essays to greet :— WALTEK. Good morning, friend ! we meet this holy day, By Poets styled, " Time's couch," " Care's balm and bay," And " Torch of Time," — how abject and unblest, Were fallen man, without such day of rest ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. MET. "lis Sunday true : released from labour's thrall, Touched by its sacred spell, we're brothers all ; God's holiday, of which even brutes partake, — Would such as you were statesmen for its sake ! ' WALTER. Vain wish ! let for time evermore assign This statesmanship to wiser heads than mine ; Yet, I'd be autocrat, if but to see, From State control, our honoured Sabbath free. PIET. I doubt it, Walter ; and believe you jest, — Nay, let the State uphold our day of rest. That liberty of conscience we so vaunt, To Sabbath-breakers Moses did not grant. WALTER. High ground you take, — which flatly I refuse — "While it remains that we are Christians and not Jews ; Willing, I trust, in this enlightened day, To give the Voluntary System play. PIET. Ha, "Voluntary System ! " Ten to one You've got this hurt from Gerald of "The Swan;" Our voluntary sovereigns cram his till, "While that in Church with pence we cannot fill. Thus Penxry-wise-pound-foohsh, on we tend, Though, on our bounty, Priest and Dean depend ; Good luck they pray, and be assured, at last, Without the State they'd often have to fast. WALTER. You can't forget that the Apostles all Were poor as Lazarus, from John to Paul ; Their better minds were fixed on tilings above, — Twas only Demas who the world could love. 16 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. PIET. Profound logician ! Poor they were, we know, Your Herods and your Neros kept them so ! Ah, have we no adorers of the Bank, "Who, with Caligula, himself should rank ? WALTER. Let Saints feed Saints; and worldlings, worldlings feed; "What right has Sacerdos to force his creed On grovelling Dives, or exact his dues, Of one who never occupies his pews ? PIET. The less I he ! So, you would meanly, then, Ignore the toils of self-denying men, Who more contribute to protect the peace Than all your boasted army and police. Short time could Dives, undeterred by dread, On his soft pillow lay his softer head, But for the men who thanklessly reveal Heaven's will, in the command : — " Thou shalt not steal." WALTER. In mother country this may all be well ; You're now in Africa, I beg to tell ; Where Zulu, Kafir, Fingo, or Malay, Wont thank you for a law that forces them to pay. PIET. To them, how kind of you ! but if you will Go somewhat farther, and be kinder still ; Return to Europe, from your darling Black, And keep your health till he invites you back. WALTER. Enough of such ; I only long to see, The Church in primitive simplicity ; Meantime, companion, give me leave to hate A law that binds religion to the State ; Let every class be willing, as they ought, To pay the men by whom divinely taught. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 17 PIET. Amen, say I ! — for such millennial day, I join with all who most devoutly pray ; In London, Petersburg, Geneva, Rome, Or Africa ; Heaven grant it soon may come ! But in our day, to build the walls divine, The sword and trowel must, I fear, combine. WALTER. O, friend ! I feel, by th' arguments you bring, "Almost persuaded," like the Jewish King; Unhappy priests ; expected to endure Privations numberless, yet feed the poor ! Besieged with paupers, I should like to know, If unsupported, what they can bestow ! Hark! to adore our Prophet, King, and Priest, 'lis time to enter now : the bells have ceased. III. BLACKS AND WHITES. ALFRED AND HENDRICK ALFRED. The Bay to Grahamstown ! Miles some eighty-four ; Or, by my reckoning, hah a dozen more ; No commendation we esteem self-praise, Else I should boast to've tramped it in two days ! HENDRICK. Your senior far, I've lately done the same ; Yet, to some merit, understand your claim. Rough roads apart, your bed and board I guess, Were Anglo- African, — no more nor less ; c 18 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Come tell me all, beneath this juicy boom, "Whose velvet tassels, like carnations, bloom. ALFRED. Of arid landscapes what have I to tell ? "What charms can I invent, for every snaky dell ? How gravely state, that, eveiy rugged mile, Pipe-craving Natives hailed me with a smile — Clutched thankless what I gave, but, if refused, "White folks, at large, with nameless oaths abused ? Why tell of dwellings that, at distance seem, To fainting travellers like a lover's dream? You come, beg water, which, without remorse, Is quick denied, except you ride a horse ! HENDRICK. Now this to hear adds nothing to my lore — Long ere to-day, I knew it all before ; But say, how fared you when the sinking sun In peace proclaimed your first day's journey done ? Where laid my friend when sleep assailed his eyes ? Beneath a roof, or the inclement skies ? Oft was my lullaby the rippling stream — Without a smile, save in the lunar beam. ALFRED. My kingly namesake in Athehiey's isle, Could fare as hard, and time his harp the while, But (worth your pleasantry !) the night you mean, Surpassed all nights in Africa I've seen ! Close by an outspan, as I bent my way, Unsparing Morphceus hinted me to stay. A Kafir troop, invincible as Mars, Had bivouacked there, in sight of moon and stars : Killed, flayed, and roasted an enormous beast, Nor lacked Boer brandy, to conclude the feast. One dollar for my lodging here I paid, And soon my limbs beneath a waggon laic?, — LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 19 Heard, ere I slept, the gluttons plan to tell The waggon owner how his bullock fell And smashed its thigh, et cetera! He might chide. They'd stop his mouth by shewing him the hide. To all, next morning, 'twas a source of fun, As off they started, — oxen minus one. HENDRICK. Minus but one ! A lucky owner, too ! The marvel is, what power protected you. Some prayer has sheltered you from peril's blast, Or — friend of mine — that sleep had been your l&sl . ALFRED. Plain facts I state, nor inferences draw : Yet, next to Providence, I thank the law, Which points assassins to a doom unblest, And makes their fears a safety for our rest. No mystery this ; however white men fare, These live like Kings, and cannot live on air- In highways, byeways, in and out of doors, They lounge about — in twos, and threes, and fours - Prepared alike to supplicate for bread, Or kiss your feet, of knock you on the head. If sentenced to imprisonment condign, Still happy in the option of a fine ; You talk to them of work, and I'm a flat, If, to succeed, you must not doff your hat. Perhaps I wrong them, but must still declare, My hrra belief they do not live on air. HENDRICK. I fancy not ! Old Mozambique Faltain Has bolted with my ten pound watch and chain ; Last month you saw me hire him for his keep— To get Some mealies planted on the cheap ; Now, Alfred, hark ! — far from me to insult, But you're responsible for this result : You knew the rascal, a convicted thief, Yet let me find the secret to my grief. c 2 20 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. ALFRED. Just so, let all my parsimonious friends, Prove, like yourself, where such vile cheapness ends — With their misfortunes can I sympathize, While Europeans starve before my eyes ? But is it true what folks begin to say, That o'er Basutoland the Queen holds sway ? HENDRICK. True, Alfred, true ! Basutoland's annexed — With aimless warfare long enough perplext. May Blacks and Whites, on this benighted shore, Learn peaceful arts, and rob and fight no more ; Soon rich prosperity shall bless the scene, And tongues unnumbered shout, "Long live the Queen. IV. TEDDY ON TRAMP. A Plain extends, high Brakenstein beneath — Weird as Panama, or " the blasted heath ; " Where swarthy faces bask in Pleasure's ray, And Europeans pine or tm*n away ; Turn from the sapless oaks, that parch and rot, Suggestive emblems of no distant lot ! Unmoved, the mandate of their baleful star, By Fortune's tide, or Idol's avatar. Here Celtic Teddy, on a winter mom, And wealthy Vanderdyke, colonial born — Prolate, full loud, their heterogeneal views, On War and Peace — Employment and the News. VANDERDYKE. Our number's full ; I did not speak untrue, When I declared there was no work for you. Since, to your heart, Old Erin is so dear, What swept you out, to seek employment here? LAYS OF SOTTH AFRICA. 21 TEDDY. Whate'er it was, I thank you for the boon — This you may sing, when you can find a tune : Yet few, even here, my ramblings should upbraid, Were all our Dutch great Holland to invade. VANDERDYKE. Mv contract work is done by coloured men— I told you once, and tell you now again ; "What brings you, foreigners, to pester me, For food or work — I can't exactly see. TEDDY. Of course you can't ; true subject of my Queen ! Your world begins and ends at Drakenstein ; Still many a Boer, of less pretension, knows Victoria's friends from her inveterate foes. VANDERDYKE. Your deep acquirements should have better paid Nor left you trusting to the pick and spade ; But — I'll have patience ! — tell me once for all, What brought you fellows to our shores at all ? TEDDY. To fight your battles, Ingrate! when the test Of Kafir warfare proved you second best ; When veld and vley resounded with the cry :— " O, England ! save us from the Assegai ! " Bedcoats had then a charm for you uDtold : Their every wearer worth his weight in gold. My pride it was no duty to refuse — No thirsty march, with blood in both my shoes ; No midnight onset in the pelting rain- No fell pursuit o'er kloof or miry plain — No wakeful watch your property to guard — But all's forgot, and this is my reward. 22 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. VANDERDYKE. A thousand plagues your Kafir wars confound ! Our limbs, in mercy, leave us hale and sound ; The yarn's a stale one ; give us something new — When war rettuns we'll doubtless send for you. TEDDY. Heart-splitting kindness — undeserved by me ! You'll wrong the friends winch here employed I see ; Let Fick or Kreli in your wars prevail — No breath of mine should ever turn the scale. VANDERDYKE. I guessed as much. Your most untimely gall Bespeaks a heart disloyal, after all ; Your wordy loyalty I know by rote, And hold as worthless as your piebald coat. TEDDY. Unlucky coat! its patches are my sins ! And you are spotless ; let him laugh who wins. Yet why remind me of your ball-room cloth ? You'll die some day, and leave it to the moth. In wardrobe fineries I'll stand parade, With many a coxcomb when his debts are paid — So hug your bankruptcy ; nor play the fool, In tempting me to stir the foetid pool. Concerning loyalty, I'd also spare, Your purse-proud insolence and folly rare ; Aye, wanton falsehood, I too much despise, Your wordy loyalty to criticise; Which all men know evaporates in boasting, Flash signatures, and Public-dinner -toasting ; Wars come and go, whatever power may win, Somehow you move in an unbroken skin ; Enjoy this Eden, while your Angel nigh , Serenely breathes : " Thou shalt not surely die." Refuse employment to the men who bled For you and yours, employing foes instead ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 23 True Irish, loyalty impugn, impeach — Nay, on yourself have pity I beseech ! Our loyalty we stoop not, shallow friend, Against your alien slander to defend. VANDERDYKE. You've had your answer ; trouble me no more ! The day is stormy ; let me close my door. TEDDY. Close, lock, and bolt it, till disturbed by me — While strength holds out, I'll journey to the sea, Add one in number to the sons of toil, Now quitting your inhospitable soil, — Dance to the symphony of Ocean's roar, And work my passage to a friendlier shore. V. SEPTEMBER IN AFRICA. JOUBERT AND ISHMAEL. JOUBERT. You'll see my gardens ! few more neatly tilled ; With annual seeds, the vacant spaces filled. Larkspur, gaillardia, mignouette, sweet pea, Phlox, candytuft, and such as need from me But little care — including ten-week stocks, Which thrive in drills as well as pot or box. Globe amaranthus, zinnias, coxcombs too — And such like tender annuals, not a few, Beneath the glass I've sown with extra care, Till fit for planting in the open air. ISHMAEL. No hour is lost in afternoons like these, Employed in grafting peach and orange trees ; 24 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Your Boers, in grafting, many a mode may test, But, of them all, rind-grafting is the best. Apple and pear stocks may be managed well, Whene'er the sprouting buds begin to swell ; Just then the bark lifts freely from the wood, The time is opportune ; the labour good. JOUBERT. Carrots and parsnips, with my nicest art, I've sown in chills about one foot apart. But say what pleases you, I find it meet, To sow broadcast the turnip and the beet. Dwarf kidney beans I'll now begin to sow, Two inches deep ; two feet between each row ; The seeds apart fom- inches ; Bhubarb seed, Spinach and celery must go down with speed ; Potatoes also ; on the whole I try, For rainy weather to put something by. ISHMAEL. Here we invert the wisdom that would say : — "Be wise ! save something for a rainy day ; " Cape rainy days we find, and not the dry, Produce that something which we should lay by, Strange country this ! a leafless, stormy June ! September comes ! but where's the Harvest-moon To crown the fields, as harvest crowns the year ? Ah, we've the moon, but not the harvest here ! Christmas arrives, to banish care and woe, We miss the skating and the mistletoe ; We miss — nor pleasantly the want endure, The good old hills of Shakspeare, Bums, and Moore. JOUBERT. Suppose we do ; here's Africa instead — And "half a loaf is better than no bread; " Fly sorrow ! Here, or in a wilder clime, I know of two, who'll try to live then- time. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 25 ISHMAFX. Tis so ! Life's tragedy must flounder on, Through Act the Fifth — short work and quickly done ! We choose our parts ; and should not seek relief , In early suicide, for such is grief. JOUBEET. My grief 's the drought ; to vanish soon I trust, That shower tins morning hardly laid the dust ; The clouds were hopeful, and I fondly thought The change of moon a torrent should have brought. ISHMAFX. That lunar agency affects the rain, Is, in my judgment, anything but plain ; For such an influence must needs appear, In sameness of effect, to all the hemisphere. But look at facts ; beyond a nightly dew, No rain is known in Chili or Peru ; In Egypt little, — while on Nubia's plains, Long months each year, incessantly it rains. Here at the Cape you've seen, and so have I, Whole moons and moons, the landscape parched and dry Wliile no geographer pretends to name, Two separate countries watered both the same ; Such facts — and others — will not tally soon, With theories of rain affected by the moon. JODBERT. No distant countries care I to explore, For truths which come spontaneous to my door ; Where twenty times I've watched, and not in vain, At lunar changes for returning ram ! The moon has changed, — and we've had rain to-day. ISHMAEL. Agreed, Joubert ! But was it at the Bay ? Or St. Helena? Singapore? Natal? Or Wynberg, where the moon has changed as well ? 2() LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. Coincidence is much — nor seems it strange, Since every week brings round some lunar change, That men attribute to such changes here, What comes as frequent, when no change is near ; Our old folks did so, and of course, 'tis hard, Their sacred whims at once to disregard ; You have my thinkings ; but we shall not batter, Each other's heads about "a moonshine matter." JOUBERT. Whatever agency brings rain, I vow, 'Tis not unmindful of our welfare now ; See, see ! the gum trees higher up the dale, Kock to and fro, like ship-masts in a gale ! Hark, how the thunder vibrates to the poles ; Through Heaven's dread conclave awfully it rolls. Flash after flash, the heaving welkin rends — It comes — the soaking element descends ! Yon ruined miU invites us half an hour — Or less perchance, — 'tis but a thundershower. VI. THE LAMENTED SETTLER. A FUNEKAL EPILOGUE. (Sacred to the Memory of Charles Webb, Sen., of Grahamstotm.) SAMPSON AND WILLIAM. SAMPSON. Our crape's a libel on the graveyard scene, Where Nature dyes no darker hue than green ; Where — from corruption — in perennial bloom, Sweet emblems of our resurrection come. Where Faith and Hope their hallowed ensigns spread- The justifying white ; the atoning red ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 27 Eestrain your sorrow ; bow to Heaven's behest ; Are you unhappy that our friend's at rest ? WILLIAM. Friend Webb has left us ! that my voice or eyes, Betray the grief, I seek not to disguise ; If this be wrong, I err with thousands more, For all who knew him must his loss deplore. SAMPSON. Yet stand admonished ! here we've had a man, Whose years exceeded the allotted span ; \ATiose eyes had never — with some pride we tell — .Seen one who wished him otherwise than well ; "Who passed through life unanxious — unperplext — X< >t weary of this world, yet ready for the next ; Who Christian-like, beheld his end unmoved, Save by their tears who his dear virtues loved. With such an end who would not be content ? For such 'tis ahnost impious to lament ! WILLIAM. "Tis for the living, not the dead we grieve — As heirs of hope, we tearfully believe ; Still, what a loss ! Ah, might we, honoured friend, From your example learn to meet our end ! Or, in our loss, could we behold thy gain, With eye of faith — not salveless were the pain. Why, to our bosoms, seems the truth unknown, That your cold pillow soon shall be our own ? SAMPSON. O, had his memory been to us less dear, And fewer weepers touched his honoured bier ! Some to that bier a ghastly journey took, And yet returned without a parting look. WILLIAM. Perchance 'twas well — they could have seen but clay — ■ The voice — the smile — the spirit — where were they? 28 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. SAMPSON. Where Heaven disposed. Most happily indeed, Annihilation is not in our creed! Voice — spirit — smile — yes, William, every trace, Of his identity has found a place In purer regions ! Far beyond the reign Of time and sorrow — friends shall meet again. WILLIAM. Consoling hope ! the destiny of man, Tis gracious Heaven's prerogative to plan ; Ours to submit : but, friend, your aged heart, Requires the solace that you would impart ! Dear was our friend to old and young who knew His stainless life, but doubly so to you; You knew the veteran settler, without doubt, In eighteen-twenty, when he first came out. SAMPSON. Yes, he was of that adventurous band Who came as "Settlers" to this distant land; And well and worthily, with heart and mind, He bore the part by Heaven to him assigned. Meek — unassuming, almost to a fault — Above himself his neighbour to exalt, His aim it seemed! O, I begin to feel, Not half a century could his worth reveal. wtlll\m. First Settlers, hail ! who braved an untried cliine, In what I've learned to call the olden time ! Undaunted Israelites — to hold your way Against this Canaan's kings and beasts of prey. Compared with yours, what were the victories won, By Caleb's brother, or the son of Nun ? Moved by no vengeful mandate from above, Yours was a conquest, not of hate, but love — From Dan to Beersheba, despising loss, To rear aloft the standard of the Cross! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 29 True stalwart heroes! Years twice twenty -live Have passed away, yet some of you survive; Long, long may Providence protract their days, To higher honours than our humble praise ! Long ruay they live to reap in sheaves of gold, The seed they've sown — five, ten, an hundred-fold; Nor die till each, even as the Uzzite hoar, Sees sons, and son's sons, generations four; Such be then- fortunes; such their joy's increase, Then- lives a dream of hope ; their end an end of peace. SAMPSON. And for ourselves: — Heaven make our latter end No worse than that of our departed friend. Peace to his memory ! For a world like this Is, after all, no seat of final bliss ; Henceforth, no more his blest departure mourn, We'll go to him — but he shall not return. 30 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. EPISTLES i. THE LAND OF BURNS. Take back your Quarto, friend, I do not choose This "Land of Burns" to harbour or peruse; What Burns is this — a sage might ask, perplext, Whose name for Quartos can supply a text ? Some Tell, some Bruce — he'd confidently bet, To whom some country felt a weight of debt. Who'd have suspected, Bedlam walls outside, An Ayrshire ploughman was the man implied ? A slave to friendship — rhymes and politics— That Scotland starved in seventeen-ninety six ! Who landless, friendless, penniless, and pale, Eked out his last — in peril of a gaol ; A fate averted on his dying day, By " trifles " lent, a tailor's bill to pay. What land had he to make all this ado % Ten miles of landscape ? Nay, six feet by two. This, this was all he, dying, could command- But now he's dead — and Scotland gives him land : So up with Scotia ! 'tis a dear mamma To her bard-bairnie ! Burns's land ! Ha, ha ! Beshrew thee, Stepdame! think you, is it well, In thy great E'nbrugh gentry and thysel, With lands and livings to insult the shade Of one who dying sought in vain your aid ? Lang syne you strove, in stepdame consequence, To make his condemnation your defence ; Long tried his fame and character to blot. With appellations vile as " rake and sot ; " LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 31 Yoiir lavish tongue besmeared them heavy thick On his high brow, but none of them would stick, Nor hide one leaf of his immortal bay, Like every dog, poor Slander had its day ! "We wrong thee, Slander, there's a viler still, Your fangs may wound, but Flattery's darts can kill, The brow why envy that her wreath adorns ? Heaven help the wearer and his crown of thorns, Whether, with Crabbe, he binds the sacred stole, Or quaffs, with Chatterton, the poison bowl, He sees the wielder of the pick and spade, For every hour in independence paid ; Recounts the efforts of his tuneful lyre, And deems the labourer worthy of his hire ; On every promise, to the last, depends To be deceived! poor "hare with many friends!" "Friends," who, remorseless, view his wasted mien, And never give, or give but to be seen ; Defer their aid, till, in an hour of woe, The wretch may feel they pay not, but bestoir ; Till poverty his thin appearance damns, And their sad bounty takes the shape of alms. Strange patrons they, whose agonizing aid, Till craved as alms, must ever be delayed ; "Whose garments' hem to touch we must adore, And like the Gibeonites, in rags implore, From God's elect solicit gracious leave, To draw their water, and their wood to cleave ! Some patronize ; bear witness every clown, Buffoon and Charlatan, that stinks the town ; One night's fool-roguing brings you more, unsought, Than Milton's epic to its author brought. Some freely give, nor quarrel about means ; Prove this ye taprooms, brothels, and canteens ; " Touch-pot, touch-penny," here the daughters live, Who — nudum pactum — ciy aloud — " Give, give ! " Good sooth, we flounder on a hopeful time, When truth itself is more than half a crime ; Save when constrained in glacier shape to bide, 32 LAYS OF SOUTH AFBICA. Nor seen to mingle with the general tide, Still Truth is Truth — and maugre icy chains ; While Falsehood — falsehood on a throne remains ; And glacier Truth on guilty heads shall burst, And bear destruction to their haunts accurst. In praise of Burns and his undying lay, I yield amen to all that you can say ; Your banks and braes, and birnies, fairer shine, Through all the seasons in his magic line ; Nay, more ; to Scotland every nation turns, With love instinctive, " as the land of Burns." If Burns to thee were any source of pride, Why, Scotia, hug the secret till he died? Till landless, friendless, penniless, and pale, He pined to death, in peril of a gaol ; A fate averted on his dying day, By asking paltry loans, a tailor's bill to pay. No more of Burns can patience here allow ; Go — read the letters that he wrote from Brow ; Ask Caledonia how she could withhold, Her cup of water till his lips were cold ; Till through the problem clearer I can see, The nearest pastry-cook may have your book, for me. If. TO THE HONOUBABLE WILLIAM PORTER. ( Written in the Albany District Prison, wliere the Author held an office, since resigned.) Ftkst name in Polyhymnia's band ! Your- honoured letter is to hand. An' trowth na words at my command, O' leal devotion, Can oughtlins gar ye understand, This heart's emotion. The critic's jink, in fae or her, To thole, at best, I'm owre dead-sweer ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 33 Aly saul, their raploch liistie lear, Ay hauds in sconner ; But praise or blame frae thee till hear, Is downright honour. O, for thy voice o' quenchless fire ! Wha dost to Tully's fame aspire ; Or His ! wha proud withstood the ire — In war an' peace — O' Macedonian Sandy's sire, When Greece wa& — Greece. Fond sire to son, departing hame, Distinction in our courts to claim, Shall lang bequeath thy honoured name, An' pray the templar, That Porter, in the path to fame, Be his exemplar. O, high exemplar ! lang may fate, Avert frae thee the doubtfu' date, Which love maim still anticipate, Though grat an' feared ; That comes at last to terminate Lives maist endeared. Electric time dirls on the year, When late in prent I did appear, Hedge, boom, and jungle a' were sere, Forfairn or dead. Auld dowie Veldt heezed ashes drear, Upo' her head. Now witchin Spring keeks out again, An' sniilin' through the vernal rain, On mouy a knowe an' fragrant plain, Bright as the day ; Fawns, lambkins, hinds — a weel-1'aurd train, Begin their play. r> 34 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Swank toddlin' bairns their lippies pout, An' deave gash auld folks till gang out ; Aff, aff ! they swell the tither shout, Aboon the cairn; Waesucks ! I rave like ony lout— This is not Erin ! An' yet, sweet dawn, o'er crag an' spray, Reminds me o' an Irish May; As here I muse, in countenance gay, In heart alane ; An' ilka zephyr seems to say: — Cauld winter's gane. O, Spring is fair ! her emerald track Gars Recollection warsle back ! Her rowth o' voices weel can mak, A choir o' prison. The vera bum-clock frae his crack, Rins out to listen. An kaes an' houlets snash an' croak, I wat the laureate's "Talkin' Oak," In Spring commenced till crack its joke, Or tunefu' sing ! Ask a' wha listened, when it spoke, They'll say:— "In Spring." Leeze me on glamour ! some are gifted To pry through granite rocks unrifted, Sin' trees maun hae their secrets drifted, O'er Ian' an' sea ; Uncanny lore ! unkenn'd, unsifted, By Dolts like me. Forjesket whyles, wi' skellums fed, Fu' aft wi' e'en, dim bleert an' red — Puir silk-worm Musie spins her thread, O' fragile twine ; Till Atropos, wi' snip or sued, Nicks hers an' mine. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 35 Till then, o' wanton haivers blameless, I'll shore douce loons, at present nameless, Toom-brainecl, mail- heartless eke nor wameless Airither joke ; An' prove to their misdoins shameless A talldn Oak. Till then — O honoured friend an' guide, The bulwark, ornament an' pride, O' bar an' senate; sairly tried— An' faithfu' found — My sang thy praises far an' wide, Shall ay resound. III. TO A LADY. {Presented at a Temperance Bazaar.) Spouse of a Chief renowned in war, "Whom Heaven in high protection bless; Thy patronage of our Bazaar, We prize, sure omen of success. A strife, though one of peace, we wage, Against a sore besetting foe; To whom your presence must presage A sure and speedy overthrow. Long may thy smiles, endeared to all, And gracious words of worth untold, On youthful hearts prolific fall, Producing fruit an hundred fold. d 2 36 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. IV. TO ANOTHEK- (0» a similar occasion.) Fair patroness ! our lowest bow, Long due, is tendered thee to-day ; Our temperance cause must flourish now, Subjected to thy gentle sway. That cause, proud Alcohol to fight, Can dare in his own chosen field, When beauty, worth, and rank unite, To form its adamantine shield. Far be the day of joyless tears, When thousands shall thy loss deplore ; For thee and thine may happy years Yet dawn on Caledonia's shore. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 37 MISCELLANEOUS i. THE POET'S VISION. A nightly vision, in a landscape bright. Which noon-clay dreara nor lessens nor displaces, Late Ishmael saw ! Innumerable faces, Fair as He made them, who made all aright, Earth's family, of divers tribes and races, And varied dye and outline- — at the sight Gazed awe-struck Ishmael ; and in his breast He loved them all — for something told him there, God loved them too ; then breathed he, free as air — To saints who heard : — " Absolve me one request ; " Teach my believing spirit of unrest, " Some gracious, broad, mild rendering of your creed, " To let us hope that the Creator blest, "An hundredth part of these can claim indeed." No voice replied, but, by his soul discerned, This answer came :■ — " Our purest creed below, w To little purpose has been taught or learned, " By men who must in their Creator know, " A local Power, less potent than his foe, " In winning subjects." Pondering on the scene, So much unlike Earth's heritage of woe, Anon the meek enquirer, with precision, Recalled the case of one who, in a vision, Rashly esteemed as "common and unclean," "What God hath cleansed — then with resigned submission, To that high power whose goodness ever new, Demands our love — beheld the Scene Elysian Depart with sleep, as a dissolving view. 38 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. II. PATRONAGE. AN ODE. What's Patronage ? I asked a little maid, In rosy smiles, and satin folds arrayed ; " A book," she answered, " that I long to see ! " 'Tis by the author of ' The Absentee.' " What's Patronage ? I asked a pulpit seer, Of threadbare coat, and forty pounds a-year ; " It is," he cried, " with deference to my liege, "A royal fortress that I don't besiege." What's Patronage ? I asked a courtier grand, Gay as Petronius, as Stanhope bland, And he responded : " That perennial tree, " Whence I and others pluck our loyalty." What's Patronage ? I asked a gaudy player, . Of radiant face, which ne'er betokens care ; "My bribe," he said, "to ply the ghastly art, "Of wearing smiles, to hide despair of heart." What's Patronage % I asked a child of lore, Whose thoughtful brow deep marks of study bore ; Quoth he, "A passport to a happy lot, " Is one sure tiling that patronage is not." What's Patronage? I asked a son of song, Of calm passivity, but vision strong ; He said: " The crowning mockery of earth, • " The bliss of dulness, and the blight of worth." What's Patronage ? to Gerald of " The Swan," I last applied: " O, tell me, joyous one ! " " Some thousand pounds," he faltered, " at the cost " Of conscience — long irreparably lost ! " What's Patronage ? How dimly all unfold, What Johnson's lexicon might first have told ! "Defence — protection," hard from vice to gain, Which none from virtue ever sought in vain. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 39 III. THE BARD'S PLEA. A LYRIC BALLAD. A critic thus a bard addressed: — "While to your song I fondly listen, It hits my fancy, without jest, That Burns has from the grave arisen." Responded quick, the son of song:— " You fancy no such tiling, my brother ! Or Scotia's bard you sadly wrong — He was himself, and not another." " O, I but meant," our critic said, "To compliment your rising merit; In saying that, of a poet dead, The hallowed mantle you inherit." Sir Rhymer answered hastily : "If fools you seek, go find some 6ther; Your compliment I fail to see — I'm just myself, and not another." " Tell yon gay warbler in the skies, Who seems on high Apollo poring, No more his notes to plagiarise, From louder larks and linnets soaring. Has he not pinions of his own, And ecstacies 'twere vain to smother ? Eyes all unborrowed — plumage, tone — He's quite ' himself, and not another.' " Hence, tomb-adorer ! sleep and dream, Contemporary bays all faded! To find the prophet you esteem, The haunts of death must be invaded ; Samuel disquieted must be, As though no kin to Eve our mother ; Yet no celestial Jove was he, But Hannah's child, and not another. 40 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. " The buried seer must be exhumed, (As his alone to teach the gift is !) While living Samuels languish, doomed In dens and caves to hide by fifties ! O, Imla's Son ! I see thee now ; Where Baal's four hundred raise a pother ; Despised and smitten — happy thou, To be thyself and not another. "The slave, on Mammon's list enrolled, With crowds may sing the lordling's riches, His chariot fine — his cloth of gold — His fatted calves, and Endor Witches. Be this my boon, without the pelf, Abroad or on my native heather ; In praise or blame to be myself, Myself alone, and not another." IV. THE DEAD OSTRICH. Deceased feathered neighbour, man's emblem how true ! Scarce worthy the labour of hiding from view ; Lone captive, death-smitten ; abortive we deem, Thy story unwritten is surely no dream. Sad type of the races in nature's vast pale : Who've yielded their places to others as frail ; Dinornis and Dodo, did e'er they exist? Tribes, races, in toto ! by whom are ye missed? Dead Ostrich ! expressing concern in thy case — Not one bird addressing in thee but a race ; No more canst thou glory in the prowess possess 'd By the Uzzite's historian, sublimely exprest. Thy every immunity thou hast survived ; By foes with impunity sought and deprived ; Poor thing of submissions, and pauper subsistence ! By Time's new conditions hemmed out of existence. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 41 Yet, a link thou art still in the wonderful chain, To accomplish His will, who creates not in vain ; His behest, all in all, independent of whom Not a sparrow can fall — not a daisy can bloom; Let the earthling of pride, from his filigree throne, Thy position deride when secure in his own. Thou regardest no taunts hi that final duresse, From the biped who flaunts in thy castaway dress. "Undisturbed be thy slumber ; the longest — the last ; Thy wanderings we number with tilings of the past; The colours of Iris, in Rhampsinit's day — First march of Busiris, first war in Cathay • — The throne of Anysis, Liu-Pang's coat of mail : The car of Cambyses ; the temple of Baal ; The death of Abirani, on Jericho's site ; The secret of 4 Hiram— Eurymedon's fight. Yes ! thou art man's emblem ; abasing to tell ! And dost but resemble him too much and too well. Merest child of a day — soon succeeded by night ; Fettered down to the clay, though ambitious for flight. Priest, Prophet, or Parson 'twere needless to call, "Mene, Tekel, Uphaesin," to read on his wall! What a much-abused station he forfeits full soon, To a "lord of creation" more worthy the boon. Thy bereavements have come to a premature close, Mother Earth has a home, for thy lasting repose ; No longer a claimant, in life's narrow span, For food or for raiment, to Nature or man. No marble nor mound, shall extol thee to fame — But no trumpet shall sound, to awake thee to shame. May a Power unerring, and Mighty to save, Avert our preferring thy lot in the grave. 42 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. V. THE SOUTHERN CROSS. AN ODE. Thou type of mysteries revealed, In man forgiven ; And plainest record of the book unsealed, Of starry Heaven ! God's pictured Word, from age to age : Alike familiar to the child and sage — In fourfold harmony ; like Christ's Evangel page. How mean to thee tins world of sin, This atom earth ! Or all the ponderous globes^ that swing within Its astral girth. Arcturus and his offspring fair — Where are they ? Mazzaroth — Orion, where ? And Pleiades ? Ah, all eclipsed — for thou art there. 'Tis well, when Keills and Newtons write With pens of gold ; That Ages numberless have winged their flight, Myriads untold ! Since thou'st been there ; since thou hast taught How, in His plan, who man's redemption wrought, That mystery of love was not an afterthought. Ten thousand worlds have learned of thee,' (Messiah's sign !) What happier eyes where privileged to see In Palestine. But thou, unknown to Eastern seer, Or king, or priest — we hail with reverence here — Great harbinger of joy ; to this our Ocean-sphere ! So dread we not the wondrous day, O, holy Cross ! When structures formed of stubble, wood, and hay, Shall suffer loss. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 43 When Time's probation shall have past, And heaven's high starry cope her orbs shall cast, Even as a tree her fruit, before the felling blast. For thou, immortal ensign bright, Art still secure ; When worlds and suns, and systems sink in night, Thou shalt endure. Endure — Redemption's emblem sweet, Nor from Creation's altered map retreat, Nor pass away with noise, nor melt with fervent heat. Till then, may faith and hope increase, Finn, hxed above; And make us with ourselves at heavenly peace — True type of love ! Mid elemental tumults rife, Point us to Him, the Way, the Truth, the Life, Rock Rimmon of our peace, to heal Baal-tamar's strife. VI. THE METEOR SCENE (Uth November, 1866.) 'Tis morn in Graharustown ; closing two ; A gorgeous welkin — gold and blue ! Cool Zephyr breathes celestial balm, No rustling leaf disturbs the calm. We stand where New-street winds its way Up, past the Drostdy tow'rds the Bay, And view a sight that human ken Ne'er saw before, nor may again ! Light, light ! what things are these that fly Fi'om east to west across the sky? For good — for evil — what a sight ! Now two, now ten, now fifty quite. 44 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Twice — ten times fifty — o'er and o'er — Now thousands — tens of thousands more- Look, look above, or have we dreamed ? With lines of gold the sky is seamed. Meteors ! they shoot — past counting all — On distant mountains seem to fall ; Or fly unbroken out of sight, And leave no vestige of their flight. One, somewhat close, has skimmed the ground,. And spread unearthly light around, Too bright for beam of moon or star, Like Solar glow, but brighter far. Say, friend — if not past speech dismayed — What means this silent cannonade? Unlike Bellona's fabled he, Or iEtna's or Cayambe's fire ; Or that of Jove's Olympian wars, Or what we once called "falling stars," Or Macedonian balls of flame, Or aught we can conceive or name ? Vain questions all, to clowns or kings ! His glance was true, who saw more things Beyond the views that boundless seem, Than man's philosophy can dream. Bright glows the East ! the scene is o'er, Which we've beheld two honrs and more ; The engines of celestial play Have melted in the rising day. VII. THE SUICIDE. Night veiled the Southern sky, Long hours ere Sol had risen ; A Felon doomed to die, Destroyed his life in prison. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 45 Tis termed, by grave and gay, An incident unhappy ; "What friend or foe to-day Wears crape for 'sad Buyapi ! Foul murderer! he died A hopeless suicide ! And godly passers by, With senices ungrudging — Without remorse or sigh, Spare Heaven the task of judging. Out leaps the sentence stern From many a thoughtless reveller, Who may perchance discern In Death a wondrous leveller. Friend ! answer in your pride, Art thou no suicide ? Abuser of thy youth ! Say, hast thou no misgiving, That thine is not, in sooth, The healthiest mode of living. If walls have eyes and ears, Where midnight broils you carp in, And Atropos her shears Prepares for thee to sharpen ; Does conscience never elude, And call thee suicide ? And thou, too, hoary sot ! In soft nocturnal revels ; Where death is in the pot, And half your angels — devils. Turn to the poisoned air, While inirth is most auspicious, A blade is waving there, Remember Dionysius! In that soft chair abide, And be a suicide. 46 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Though thousands every hour, The call of death obey ; How many feel his power, In Nature's lawful way ? Does duellist or drinker, Or such as thwart her plan ? O, European thinker! Be true — art thou the man ? Then never more deride, A Kafir suicide. vni. THE HYMN "TE DEUM LAUDAMUS." VERSIFIED. O God, we worship Thee, and recognise Thee as the true and everlasting Lord ! Whom justly all that live beneath the skies Acknowledge Sovereign, meet to be adored, Their testimony angels, too, afford, The boundless heavens, and all the powers on high ; Cherub and Seraph bright in full accord, Thrice Holy, holy, holy, ever cry, Lord God of Hosts ! Heaven, Earth, are with the Majesty Of thy transcendant brightness ever filled ! Apostles all, and Prophets praise Thy might ; The noble host, beneath Thy banner killed — The Church throughout the world proclaim Thy right. The Father of dominion infinite, Thine honourable, true, and only Son ; Also the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete, Thou art the King of Glory, Christ alone ; Thou, of the Father, art the sole begotten One. LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. 47 When man thou tookest upon Thee to save, Thou didst not then abhor the virgin's womb : "When thou the sharpness of the wasting grave, Hadst fully vanquished — rising from the tomb, Thou openedst wide Heaven's portals, making room For all believers. Now hi regal power, At God's right hand thou sittest, soon to come, And be our Judge : O, from the ills that lower, Thy ransomed servants save, in that tremendous hour ! In endless glory, when this life is past, Enrol their names with Saints in bright array ; To full salvation guide them safe at last, Thy heritage. Uphold them by Thy sway ; And lift them up for ever. Day by day, Thy holy name we laud and magnify, With worship due ; Thy precepts to obey For evermore our contrite hearts apply ; From every ill this day, defend us, Lord Most High. Lord ! Thou whose mercy gratefully- we own, Our hope in Time and for Eternity ! To us, unworthy, be that mercy shown, That sparing mercy, full, unbounded, free. Lord, let Thy mercy lighten on us ; Thee Amid the countless perils which surround, Our sure unerring confidence we see ; In whom alone true safety can abound — In Thee we've put our trust, let nothing us confound. IX. ODE. ON THE OPENING OF THE DOUGLAS RESERVOIR, 18GT. Hail to this sonsie April day, Loup drouthy birkies, weel ye may, The muckle Reservoir survey, Sae soon completed — Na mair shall chiels to wet their clay, O' drink be cheated. 48 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Na mair shall lowin thirst attack us, Or sottish invitations mak us The prey o' coofs, wha daily track us, Frae neuk to neuk — Yon loch does mair to towzle Bacchus, Nor ony buke. Aye, glower an wonder ilka neibur ! Losh ! what a heap o' brawny labor — We'll ding his praise wi pipe an' tabor, Frae whom 'tis named ; Hale be his arm, an' bright his sabre, Already famed. Fu' lang that name the welkin fills, Frae Andes to the Grampian hills ; Ye Schillers, Humes, and Stratford Wills, Ken 'tis na hearsay. Still, boon the lave, our hummin rills Proclaim Sir Percy. That flame, which on the banks o' Sark, Lang syne roused Craigie till his wark, Ere sweetly chimed the minstrel lark, In Scotia's sky — Emits in Grahamstown sic a spark As winna die. Moshesh, an ilk auld-farrant shaver, To scar our dautit weans endeavour; But gin our chief staps here they'll never, Ance show then- nose — Faith, we'se gang bail for their behaviour, Until he goes. Leeze me on sic a peerless chief ! Na task against his might is prief ; His Parthian blade, which gies relief, Frae wastin quarrels. In hamely toils, wi witchin breef, Beaps ither laurels ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 49 Lang live the Douglas, good an' true, His native hills again to view — An' gie their bardies themes anew, To sing an' whistle — "Wi' a' his wreaths, the vera hue, 0' Scotland's thistle. X. HECTOR AND AJAX. FROM THE SEVENTH LUAD ATTEMPTED IX HEXAMETERS. "'Here, confront me, thou Hector! and try what a chief of our country Dares all singfy attempt, in the absence of godlike Achilles ; Who, secure, in the fleet his revenge on Atrides brood over, And may brood as he list — not alone answer I thy defiance — Other bosoms as valiant we lack not. I call thee to battle ! " " O, thou glory of Telamon's line! " — quick responded the Trojan — " Know thy threatenings fall not on the ears of a stripling or spinster ; But a chief thou beholdest, inured to the field and the danger, By whose prowess well tested, strong foes not a few have been humbled : To the right hand and left, this good orb I am skilled in the shifting, Or sustaining the burden of battle, on foot or in chariot. Yet, great Ajax ! with one like thyself, in this glorious encounter, My attack shall be open, nor unawares seek I to smite thee." Here surceased mighty Hector, and poising his javelin, dismissed it — To the shield of the Argive six outer integuments piercing ; E 50 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. But repelled by the seventh ; then descended the spear of great Ajax, Through the buckler of Priam's son, rending his corslet and tunic ; Sidelong on to the flank. Hector, bending, the ruin eluded. Then, tempestuous, both champions, from bosses trans- pierced, drew their lances, And both terribly closed, even as lions or boars of the forest ! Right on Telamon's disk the long beam of the casque- tossing Hector, All innocuous and blunted came down — while the giant observing Now an opening propitious, his lance through the targe of the foeman, Launched awfully, sheer to the neck — whence a torrent descended ! Still the Trojan, undaunted, stooped down, in his huge hand uplifting Quick, a stone of gigantic dimensions, rough, pointed, enormous ; Sent it whizzing abroad, on the sevenfold agis resounding. Then, sore-plying each sinew, the Argive upheaved a far heavier, Which hurled full at Hector — full prone on his buckler alighted; Bursting onward its course, and against his knees, down- ward came thundering. Now supine on the field lay the warrior, sustained by his buckler, But Apollo restored him in vigour anew to the combat. Again brandished both heroes their swords — the fierce conflict renewing — Made close circles aloft, till the heralds at last interposing, Talthybius divine of the Greeks — of the Trojans Idoeus, Raised a bay of armistice between them ; Idseus exclaiming : " Cease ! my children — forbear ; both the f avourites of earth and of heaven ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 51 To both Trojans and Argives well known are your warlike achievements, But the night interposes — now cease — 'tis the Goddess that parts you." XI. JACK KETCH. AN ODE TO THE LAW-FINISHER'S SOBRIQUET. "When Jefferies went out on the highway of fame, A worthy compeer he did fetch ; To hang and to quarter, to brand and to maim, And all who are anxious to ask for his name, May learn — it was Mr. Jack Ketch. Like master, like servant, this miscreant tool, His own daddy's neck he would stretch. Some called him a wise man, some called him a fool ; But deaf to their praise, or condign ridicule, He earned his vile money, did Ketch. His butcheries — monstrous, atrocious, and sad, "Would cause any stomach to retch ! No Esquimaux savage — Dahomian mad, Nor Bhuddist in frenzy was ever so bad, In deed or intention as Ketch. A volume in quarto of him you may write, And then t'would be only a sketch, Of the tortures inhuman that gave him delight, For plaguing poor mortals, by day and by night, Was the darling amusement of Ketch. "What tongue could depict when his calling was o'er, What artist his features coidd etch ? How he pined — how he whined — how he curs'd — how he swore ! For brandy-faced Jefferies could sentence no more, Till the worms should have him and Jack Ketch. e 2 52 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. From that day to this, every imp of the trade, Has borrowed a name from the wretch ; Like Cain or Iscariot, a part he has played ; And the lam-els of Beelzebub sooner shall fade, Than those of his pupil — Jack Ketch. XII. THE MARTYR'S DREAM. "Why do I wake ? is it my choice To hear again one human voice ? Or gaze on Terra's brightest scene ? Amazing change ! where have I been ? Those faces were not breathing clay ; That beam was not Apollo's ray ; That landscape ne'er to earth was given, That scene was not of Earth, but Heaven. Those flowers of sempiternal stain, Profuse upon the sapphire plain ; Which dyes eternally disclose, Unrivalled but by Sharon's rose. That zephyr — tuned by cherub wings, To breathe unutterable things, Which but to hear, in such a sleep, A thousand martyrdoms were cheap. Gone, gone ! O, gently matin bell — 'Tis day : what dreadful news you tell ! O, mother earth ; from priceless joys, Why turn I to thy baby-toys ? Again, Conf uscius let me view, Again, Isaiah, talk with you ; Plato, once more, and Pascal see; Thee, Fenelon — and Luther — thee. Friends numberless, combined in love, Sons of one Father, High Above ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 53 Saints in mature immortal life ; Oblivious of Earth's cradle-strife. Come, laggard Deathsman ! — I'd forgot ; Friends wait me yonder ; tarry not ; My promise to return, I keep — Your "Death " is but a passing sleep. XIII. LINES TO A YOUNG STUDENT. WITH A PRESENT OF AN INKSTAND. No cold nor brittle compliment, This gift, dear boy, would represent ; No feigned attachment insincere, But friendship towards a friend most dear ! The sparkling glass I deem designed To image forth thy brilliant mind ; Contrasting with the ink within, As thy sweet soul with every sin. The cover of pure argent thew, As emblematic points to you, So sound of cranium ! Now farewell, May every line good tidings tell ; The sable wave with which you write, Be darkness, still producing light. XIV. SATIRE ON APOLOGISERS. Of all the knaves who live by cheating Ketch, Your pardon-craver is the vilest wretch : Whose sneaking art such eunuch words betray, As "Beg your pardon, friend ! " " Excuse me, pra\ .' No wiles can mystify the felon's creed, Whose slang vocabulary all may read. 54 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Submission from a worthy man in fault, The noblest nature tends but to exalt ; Still Honesty, to better instincts true, Will try to make even such occasions few. Sweet is the spirit of that Sacred Book, By which we're taught a brother's faults to brook; But how disheartening to hear it made, A very license for the swindler's trade ! Ye pusillanimous unworthy crew, "Who pardon need for all ye say and do ; Your lips cry pardon, but your hearts imply, Fresh opportunities to cheat and He ! Does shame not whisper you, 'twere manlier far, To doff the mask, and seem the things you are ? No kindred miscreants the poles between, A thousandth part so villanous and mean. XV. THE VISION OF LINTOT. A GHOST STORY. [Note :— This trifling Impromptu will not, of course, be seriously understood as implying any general disesteem of the greatest poet of his time. " Pope, in his Iliad, every heart admires, His pungent satire never cloys or tires ; Save when he aims a most innocuous blow, At lustier men, like Bentley and Defoe. His flowing Odes, and Pastorals sublime, Repay perusal, aye, the twentieth time ; Then hark ! Ins Essays ! Homer, by the bye, On cleft Parnassus never stood so high." LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 55 So Liutot mused, in contemplation deep — And mused again, and musing, dropt — asleep— And felt transported to a region vast, Where Present seemed, the Future and the Past ; Saw from a grotto Twickenham's bard appear, As, to the Judeau monarch, Bamah's seer ! So Priam's son, by stern Pelides slain, To great iEneas once appeared again ; But javelin huge, nor shield, the bard displayed, Nor worse than ink distained his awful shade. "Printer! " he thundered, "I have overhauled This liryming Essay, by Swiss Crousaz mauled ; Not prompted by new regions, blest or curst, But purely, simply, what I meant at first, And shoidd have said ! " The spectre then began, With silver accent, the Essay on Man : — "Awake, my St. John, since the meanest things, Are higher now than Bolingbroke with kings ; Let us (since you, though once so proud and high, Have sunk about my level), ere we die, Assume a dictatorial course with man, Of whom (don't mention it!) I've found the plan!* This earth's a wild, where princes hunt and shoot, "While we stand tempted with forbidden fruit ; Conceal our* envy in the ample field, At all the game to others it may yield, Who hill and dale, on horseback can explore, And not on foot, with corns and bunions sore. AVho crush the boxwood ; shoot whatever flies ; Or nick the rogues, and catch them ere they rise ; Smiles let us feign, as bards and courtiers can, And style our poem, an ' Essay on Man.' " Say, first, of God above, or man below, What shall we teach that others do not know ? " "Lots ! " yawned the printer, " Hush, for any sake ! " And Bernard stared, and found himself awake. •'A general map of man."- Vide Pope's Preface. 5G LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XVI. ELEGY. ON THE SUPPOSED DEATH OF DE. LIVINGSTONE 1867. Prince of Explorers ! high enshrined among Earth's honoured worthies, saints and martyrs night ;: Sore was thy strife in Freedom's cause, and long, Still sagest in her councils ; first in fight. In tears thy epitaph let Scotia write, While tears so challenged gush from foreign eyes, And History's Muse shall worthily requite, Thy god-like labours ; yea, the good and wise, Long ages hence shall tell, of Livingstone's Emprize.. Of Memphian Pheron, poets have unveiled Adventures marvellous on sea and shore ! Boeotian Cadmus, and the Greeks who sailed, From Thrace to Colchis, in the days of yore. How Odysseus nations did explore, How Dido's guest remodelled states anew : How Necho's fleets Damascus trophies bore, To Al-Cairo ; accepting all as true ; 0, Livingstone, their deeds shall stand eclipsed in you.. No princely coffers opened to thy hand, No regal mandate, human blood to spill; No fleets nor armies moved at thy command, Things needed elsewhere to enslave and kill. Vast opposition to thy vaster will, Bad men opposed, but saw thee lead the way, O'er poison swamps, where Macedonian skill, Not even in frenzy, ever dreamed a sway ; And what thou hast achieved, let Truth impartial say. Credentials patent, from a Power above, Emboldened thee ; friends, home, and ease forsaking V. Kings marked thy progress in the work of love ; The dead in sin, as by a spell, awaking; *7 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. O The Ethiop's cause, thy own still ever making, Success nor Failure saw thee once unnerved : Like Paul's thy aim, a kindred doom partaking, From which, though imminent, thou hast not swerved ; A martyr's crown be thine, by whom so well deserved ? High friends thou hadst in many a camp and court, High D agon servers; gaudy, 2 } ious, brave, "Who long beheld "while Samson made them sport," Their lives (forsooth !) would forfeit, thine to save. Wert thou but only rescued from the grave, How they'd astonish us ! Heaven be their guard, From that low realm, which good intentions pave, Departed worth ! thou wert indeed ill-starred, Were Mammon's muck-rake mine, the source of thy reward. Rest, toil-worn Traveller ! an Eternity Hast thou to rest in. Who shall dare offend Thy spirit, threatening mean revenge for thee ? 'Twould badly honor thy heroic end, To breathe a thought of tendency to rend, The ties of brotherhood you died to bind : Or make one European less the friend Of Ham's descendants — be they all resigned, To emulate thy worth — great friend of human kind. VII. LIVINGSTONE ALIVE! WRITTEN ON THE ARRIVAL OF A TELEGRAM MAKING THE FOREGOING ANNOUNCEMENT. (1867.) Onwakd to Europe, where reigns the misgiving yet, Waft the secure hope of Livingstone living yet ; Bid every nation the tidings resound, With exultation, the lost has been found. 58 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. Tell it minutely to Scotia Morn, Who most acutely his absence has borne ; Breathe it in Ireland, from mountain to shore, Scarce in his Sireland, they honour him more. Mighty Britannia and chivalrous Gaul, Sage Lusitania, no more weep his fall ! Greece and Ionia new tones shall employ, With Caledonia, in this hour of joy. Sturdy Germania shall echo the strain, Learned Albania, and storyful Spain ; Italy, peerless in letters and war, On, to the cheerless domains of the Czar. Countries unnamed, and to millions unknown, Monarchies famed, over cycle and zone ; From the Lapp mountains, to where, in their pride, Enderby's fountains gush on to the tide, Truce to your chidings, high Providence gives ! Joy in the tidings, that Livingstone lives. Lives and abounds, for a purpose how vast ! Pray God it redounds to out* credit at last ! Lives ! superhuman f atigues to relate, Of false men and true men, then- joy and their hate, Races and nations undreamt of before, Who, as relations, he brings to our door. How in every disaster, undaunted he stood, And went, like his Master, about doing good. Ah ! shall he record, having flattery for pay, But a golden reward, when we thought he was clay ? Live on, a new witness, when vigor is sped, Of England's high fitness for feeding the dead ? World ! with submission ; your orthodox creeds, Require this addition — that, words are not deeds ! World! we arraign you; and hear you reply: — " Cease, 'tis in vain you throw dust at the sky ! Lecture old matrons of intellect low, Tell not high patrons the duty they know. Find one of talents to swallow a pin, Or a corkscrew to balance, high-poised on his chin ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 59 Show us alive some true hero of spleen, Who can contrive some infernal machine, Fashioned with power and exquisite skill, Fit, in one horn-, whole thousands to kill ; Such, o'er his neighbours, to honour we'll raise, Livingstone's labours rewarding with praise." XVIII. ODE. ON THE ARRIVAL OF H.R.H. PRINCE ALFRED IN CAPE TOWN, 1867. [Note:— This Piece had the honour of "presentation," through the kind favour of the late Hon. W. Porter, who forwarded a com- munication from the Prince's Private Secretary, stating that the verses had been "carefully read by His Royal Highness, and much praised. "] Prince of the brave and kingly isle, Rome's rightful heir in Arts and Arms ! Formed by the destinies to smile Secure on strife and war's alarms. Thy beaming smile our winter warms, Retiring summer seems to stay, In proud resuscitated charms, Like Joshua's extended day. The native chiefs, erewhile so vain, Confess thy prestige from afar, And conscious fade into the wane, As Hiunom's torch at Bethlehem's star. The voice, the crash, the wail of war, Depart with less auspicious times — Abashed, as thy triumphal car High to its zenith proudly climbs. 60 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Son of the fair exalted Queen, Whose Empire clips the farthest zone, In whose sole service to be seen, Your noble heart refused a throne ! Long be her presence felt and known, And long our orb that Empire see, Vast as the boundless wave whereon Thou'lt lead her fleets to victory. Son of a sire— well named " The Good ! " Whose early loss was Albion's woe ; Who, with supernal parts endued, Ne'er lost a friend, nor made a foe. Not yet recovering from the blow, Sustained when Albert did expire, Glad millions joy to see thee grow In fame and statm-e like thy sire ! From thy dread home on ocean's tide, Thy presence here to celebrate, In reverence, love, and loyal pride, Earth's varied races thronging wait. High Prince ! to whose paternal state Apollo yields one endless morn ; Thy Saxon Type, surnamed the Great, Less glorious could the name adorn. By love the peaceful heart to sway, In war to quell the tyrant's boast ; Be this thy praise, from Table Bay, To Montezuma's golden coast. Thy every advent raise a host, With hopes, and hearts, and souls revived ; To echo back the deafening toast — "Bejoice! Prince Alfred has arrived!" LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 61 XIX. BUSSELL'S ESCAPE. A PARODY ON "THE BURIAL OF SLR JOHN MOORE." {Note:— The case of the Police Inspector of Cape Town, who. in 1867, while under arrest on charge of peculation, contrived to vanish from his keepers (and afterwards surrendered), is well known. ] Not a rattle was heard, nor a cry of Stop thief ! " As Bussell from Berg-street hurried ; Not a watchman suspected the flying chief, In the blankets he seemed nigh buried. He fled from the room, in safety quite, Our keen inspection scorning ; It must have been dreadfully late at night, Abovit two o'clock in the morning. No " Togs " we fancied enclosed his breast, (Or gyves should more safely have bound him ;) For he lay like a sleeper, with Somnus at rest, And we all dozing around him. Few and short were the naps we took, But soon we awoke in sorrow: And we gazed for the face that had "taken its hook," And bitterly thought on the morrow. We thought as we ransacked many a bed, And kicked every quilt and pillow, Tli at we should be called to account in his stead, And he far away on the billow. Wildly we swore at the "gentleman" gone! And bitterly did we upbraid him; For we knew that suspicion would reach every one, Who had power or means to aid him ! 62 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. But half of our ghastly search was o'er, And all was but random firing! When the rambler appeared on the charge-room floor, And saved us from expiring. In a closer apartment he laid himself down, Like a warrior wounded and gory; And flying to publish the news hi town, We have left him alone in his glory. XX. THE MUSING MILLIONAIRE. Where Capetown here meanders on the view, From Green Point tramway to the Table Mount, And bends and hitches, like a Cyclop chained : Or Swift's man-mountain, stand my mansions fan - , Gardens, and walks, and terraces ; the lines To me have fallen upon pleasant places, For all thy bounties, Heaven, my thanks receive- No man is perfect, nor am I exempt From human frailties, nor at times oblivious Of inward goadings, memory lingers yet, On old transactions — mortgages — entails — Agreements verbal, barter, and such-like, With folks less prudent ; writs defaced or lost, That might have told against me ; these, in sooth,.. Are reminiscences I fancy not. My talent is not sadness; fate or chance, Makes me a millionaire ; which envious tongues, Not wrongly have attributed in part, To three insolvencies; they little know Of twice three more ; in every one of which, Some needy friend, for a "Consideration," Became my scapegoat ; far, O, very far, Be it from me to arrogate perfection! And would that all offenders were like me. In sight of heaven a penitent sincere! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 63 Saints beyond number have confessed to errors, As I confess to mine ; but charity Can bide a multitude of such ! This day I stuffed with crumbs, and other broken food, A fulsome lazar — nor reproved him much, For perching at my entrance, and annoying My fancy dogs, who, by-and-by began Some close inspection of his wounds, received In sundry battles; but I had no leisure, To hear the fellow's yarn, perceiving him, In sickness far advanced, and like to be A public nuisance, straight I had him sent, To our infirmary, to which I give Five pounds per annum ! Since that hour again, To ragged bricklayers, in number five, One shilling each I gave, and promised work, At half their wonted pay ; (not bad these times !) Days, weeks indefinite — for I design, Immense additions to my present stock ; My bursting warehouses, reputed large, To others roomier and more substantial, In course of business may as well give way. And O, the prayers of these poor starving wretches,. "With weeping wives, and little ones, no doubt, Are in my reckoning; God, I thee adore, For all thou gavest, givest, and shalt give ; For this good purpose, and a heart unlike, The vile extortioners that I coidd name, Idolators — adulterers — unjust — Who break the ten commandments every hour, And grind the poor, and no employment give. Time shall arrive, for I intend my Future, Even on the Past, a marvellous advance, As hitherto, hi conscience, I've clone little, Worthy high functions; true, I teach my hirelings, To keep their places in the destined state, To which they were ordained, and to be thankful For daily bread ; to honour every one Above them placed. Of Envy to beware, 64 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Pride, Sloth, and so forth; but a time shall come, When my bemficence shall be the theme, Of grateful millions ! Schools, infirmaries, Yea, churches my imagination sees Rise on the future (like enchanted domes By spell of genii), at my potent word ! Yes, I intend — be rapturous my soul, In such intention ! — witness, I intend Such deeds that, to applauding generations, The gilded mausoleum shall proclaim, In terms more awful, sage, and durable Than Memphian glyph, or Boustrophedon tablet, The nabob who made trophy of two worlds, And to the making of eternal friends, His mammon of unrighteousness applied. Rap-tap ! come in— the paper ! steady, boy ! Shut to the door ; my glasses — let me see — Births, marriages, and — deaths !— confound the type ! Another debtor dead ! Heaven holds its sway, In spite of rank ! (Sir Argent thus bewailed, To brighter musings, dark corollary ! One death-insertion, in an evening paper, Where, two days hence, his own was to be read. Friends out of town this notice will accept.) ts^gMfiSF* LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 05 SONGS. THE PURLING RILL Tune: "Avid Lang fyne." Let Topers pass the social glass, To raise their spirits high ; Or madly swill the brandy gill, Till on the ground they lie. No wine nor beer, the soul can cheer, Nor whisky from the still, Can joy impart, to head or heart, Like Nature's purling rill. Let puffing quacks vile nostrums tax, Augmenting pain on pain ; And beaming eyes, cosmetics prize, Loved beauty to retain. But stalwart arms, and lovely charms Might banish drug and pill. Were folks but wise, to patronize Fair Nature's purling rill. Triumphant sot ! with glass and pot, Cold water you deride ; We'll take the shame, if you can name, One, who from Temperance died. Your pot and glass, in scores, alas ! Then daily victims kill ; Still you refuse, instead to use, Fair Nature's purling rill. 66 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Talk not of slaves, who long for graves, From bondage to be freed ; The slave endures, compared with yours, A tender fate indeed ! No chain enthralls, like Alcohol's, Soul, body, heart, and will , Dissolve this da} r , his yoke away, In Nature's purling rill. Sweet Purling Rill, down craggy hill, Or sloping vales between ; Or by the grove, where blushing love Breathes magic o'er the scene. Thy seraph lays, in childhood days, We loved, and love them still ; No gin-shop voice, can hearts rejoice, Like Nature's purling rill. Fond brothers here, and sisters dear, Let none the cause betray ! May poison cups, and moderate sups, From us be far away. Ne'er may you need, again to read, A knavish taproom bill ; Then pray be wise, and patronize Fair Nature's purling rill. II. THE MEXICAN MARTYR. |; Tune : " The Ancient Church of Skene. " Ye Powers, whose high election, has emperors in protection, And plebians in subjection, assist us to deplore A potentate imperial, of race almost ethereal, Who late a Spartan burial, had on a distant shore. This mighty godlike sovereign, a foreign land would govern, And rashly ventured over on this fortune-chase of woe ; Ill-omened was the morning, when he departed scorning, A good adviser's warning — and sailed for Mexico. LAYS OF SOUTH AFEICA. G7 Mad France did him embolden, in foreign countries olden, To hunt for trophies golden, where Cortez won renown ; Of course she only tricked him, by her unlucky dictum, To which he fell a victim, and lost both life and crown. In vain the royal German, did compass and determine, Among the Yankee vermin, the seeds of strife to sow ; They still remained united, and all his hopes were blighted, And Koyalty was slighted — in fatal Mexico. To win the last engagement, he had a strong presagement And in his pious rage meant, the vagabonds to slay ; Till old Juarez floored him, and like a slave secured him, Curse on them who allured him to vile Amerikay ! With anguish and vexation, he saw his situation, And, in humiliation, he begged to be let go ; But there was no denial, he had to take his trial, And drink the seventh vial, of grief in Mexico. Says he: "You sous of niggers, put by your locks and triggers, Or you'll cut awkward figures, if I but only wish ; To rule your States disjointed, I'm legally appointed, For I'm the Lord's anointed, like Saul the son of Kish." They vulgarly retorted: "Let paupers be supported, "Where always they resorted ; 'tis fit it should be so ! You vile imperial caitiff! we ought to tAvist your pate off; No ruler but a native shall govern Mexico." , His Majesty perceiving, that there was no retrieving, And not much use in grieving, prepared to meet his doom ; And so the villains slew him, and fired their bullets through him, And very quickly drew him, to his untimely tomb. Thus, like the prince of Ilion, fell mighty Maximilian ! Foul fortune to the villain, that dared to lay him low ; He's but a thieving Tartar, his shirt who would not barter, To pledge the royal martyr, who fell in Mexico. f 2 68 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. III. THE OVERLAND ROUT(E.) Tune: " The Minstrel Boy." [Note : The first four verses of this song are parodied from ' ' The Minstrel Boy." The third verse alludes to two prisoners killed, after arrest, by the Dutch. J The fighting Dutch from the wars are gone, At their homes you'll shortly find them ; Then* seven-league-boots they have girded on, And the Kafirs close behind them. Land of theft, cries the flying boer, Though marauding hordes oppress thee, Ere my hand of peace be stained with gore, Moshesh may freely possess thee. "We fled not the field till our conquering sword, Had brought two proud Bushmen under ; And to see any other bosoms gored, It would rend our own asunder. A comfortless thing is this wicked war, Far worse than Siberian slavery ; "We remember the fate of "Wippenaar, "Who was killed with all his bravery. We long stood sentry, on brake and fen, Prepared every foe to slaughter ; Good job for the Kafirs, they shunned us then, Or their blood had run like water ! But Peace is best ! O, friends, are you blind ? Don't you see the wild Basutos ? There's a first-rate chance to loiter behind, If we want the rogues to shoot us. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 69 Hurra, for the bed, arid the loaf, and the pie ! And the foaming tumbler glorious ; Campaigns, good-bye ; let the wool-pates hie, And settle with friend Pretorius. Sweet Peace, we invoke, in our bloodless retreat, May it prove no idle fiction ; And our swords into pruning hooks we'll beat, Fulfilling the blest Prediction. IY. THE ALBANY HALL Tune : " Tullocligomm. " The lamps are bright in yon fan- Hall, The "Albany" we proudly call; And cheers ascend, as curtains fall, And Joy supreme is reigning ; And knight and peasant, beau and belle, Knight and peasant — knight and peasant- Knight and peasant, beau and belle, With interest unf eigning ; And knight and peasant, beau and belle, Attracted come, as by a spell, And all, by look and gesture, tell, Of pleasure well nigh paining. Let inother-country make the most Of her high-plumed Dramatic host; Full well we laud her honoured boast, As all the world before us. Still mh-th and music here shall reign, Mirth and music — mirth and music — Mh-th and music here shall reign, And Joy sit smiling o'er us; Still mirth and music here shall reign, Of Grahamstown, Hill-steet, we're as vain, As folks at home of Drury-lane, Though louder be their chorus. 70 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Euterpe's warblers, haste and hear, A language to your "heartstrings dear! Cecilia bright, our fallen sphere, Not yet has quite forsaken ; No Greek explorers, from their ships, Greek explorers — Greek explorers — Greek explorers, from their ships, In dark enchantments taken ; No Greek explorers, from their ships, Were ever lured by syren lips, That could those thrilling tones eclipse, "Which all our hearts awaken. Long years, incomparable Smythe Survive to keep us gay and blythe, For thee may Time's relentless scythe, Which lops our pleasures daily Lop care and trouble year by year, Care and trouble — care and trouble — Care and trouble, year by year, And smooth your pathway gaily, Lop care and trouble year by year, And smooth the path of your career, And long connect your genius here, With that of Poussard-Bailey. PROSPECT PLACE. Tune: Auld Lang Syne." Where Grahamstown stands, 'mid Afric's sands, An oasis heavenly fair ; With waters clear, like Bendemeer, Or Dian's fountains rare ; The cautious eye of passer-by, Or resident can trace, That Eden named, extolled and famed, As lovely Prospect Place. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 71 Sweet verdant shades, in long- Arcades, On every side appeal- ; A blest retreat, from summer's heat, And wintry skies austere ; Typhoons may rave o'er kloof and cave, And other scenes deface, But ne'er assail with wasting gale, Transcendant Prospect Place. Here see the rose, her bloom disclose, The lily's statelier head; The daisy bright, recumbent quite, By walk or mossy bed. Not fan- Cathay, can tints array, In floral ground or vase, That could outvie, in scent or dye, The flowers of Prospect Place. Of Phaeacea's king, let dreamers sing, His trees imprisoned round ; Their "fertile mould," ripe "fruits of gold," "Wine floods," and "fairy ground." To one loved spot, we conjure not, Such supervenient grace ; For fruits confess'd as Nature's best, Commend we Prospect Place. Green were the vales, and soft the gales, And azure deep the sky ; Where chiefs opprest, their spears could rest, And " Alabama " cry ; But scenes more fair, than vision ed there, Adorn sweet Nature's face, While zephyr breathes, to fan her wreathes, In lovely Prospect Place. Far o'er the wave, its founder brave, In court and camp was known ; The peasant's guide, disdaining pride, Yet bulwark of a throne. 72 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Here let his name, the prestige claim, Of Fintry's noble race; And long his line, compeers outshine, In lovely Prospect Place. • VI. THE DUTCH WARS. Tune: "Auld Lang Syne " Colonial Dutch! your wars are such, As might Don Quixote shame ; His windmills fierce, your hearts would pierce, Should you to hearts lay claim. Lament your sins, in healthy skins, And shun the field of Mars ; Babes, ere they walk, now learn to mock, Your Dutch Colonial wars. Since that sad day, when in dismay, From Wippenaar you fled ; And none of you, a sabre drew, To shield your chieftain's head ; Your hosts amount, though you should count. In number as the stars, No man of sense would give twopence, For Dutch Colonial wars. Colonial Dutch, I praise you much, For tongues that all things dare ; And heels that seem to move by steam, When Kafirs press the rear. Go ! save your lives, with weans and wives, From gun-shot wounds and scars ; Eed coats or fate may terminate, Your Dutch Colonial wars. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 73 Some talk of plays, and Christy lays, "Which give the crowd delight — And some in sport, those scenes resort, "Where Pimch and Judy fight. But nigger, loon, or mad buffoon, In feigned or angry jars, No crowds can draw, to laugh, Ha, ha ! Like Dutch Colonial wars. VII. THE NEW DODGE Tune: Hugh Reynolds's Lamentation. [This trifle relates to the capture of the burglar Smith, in 1866, who, after a variety of hair-breadth escapes, was simply enough brought to justice. Hearing a young gentleman, one rainy day, express a wish for his cloak and umbrella that he had forgotten at home, our hero had the coolness and address to go and possess himself of the articles, which ultimately led to his arrest. The allusion, in the third verse, is to a still greater proficient in the rogue's art, whose apprehension was brought about by a fancy hat, which he was seen wearing, and which had consti- tuted a small item in one of his then recent midnight seizures. ] Ye artful window borers, and midnight cell-explorers ! I ask you as encorers, my sorrows to bewail ! My name is " Smith the Shaver," no foot-pad ever braver, And, for my good behaviour, I he in Grahamstown gaol. The thirteenth of October, collected, cool, and sober, Without a wrench or crowbar, I stormed a certain Lodge ; My practices nocturnal, I tried to make diurnal, And did what — in the " Journal " — is termed a New dodge. 74 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Just like a fearless fellow, whose heart is never mellow, A cloak and new umbrella, I valiantly did prig ; You see I got them faster, by stating that young master, In rain would meet disaster, without a proper rig. Alas, the prowling bobbies ! such actions are their hobbies ! Soon ransacked stairs and lobbies, to find where I did lodge ; It was their chief that found me, and with vile handcuffs bound me, I'd rather he had drowned me for playing my new dodge. My grief, alas, is double! for there is comrade Noble, Who has got into trouble, by breaking in a store ; This interfering chief here, has brought him into grief here ; Ah ! by and by, no thief here, can plunder any more. A hat of dandy fashion, brave Noble cut a dash in, Despising law and session, the jury and the judge ; The lads aforesaid caught him, and to the prison brought him, "Where bars and bolts have taught him, to play another dodge. Soon, at the Kowie station, or Katberg destination, He'll feel the sad vexation, which many a dodger feels ; While I, at such hard labour, with many a dodging neighbour, Shall have a gun and sabre, still dodging at my heels. Farewell, ye window borers, and midnight cell-explorers ! And gin and rum adorers, Tim, Sandy, Bill, and Hodge ; If with the bobbies pitted, you're sure to be outwitted, And robbing, if you quit it, 'twill be the best new dodge. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. VIII. 75 SOUTH AFRICAN PROSPECTS IN 1870. A CLOSING 'LAY. There's gold iu South Africa! Hear it, and sing, Boer, banker, insolvent, and loafer ; From Extravaganzas and Polkas, take -wing To the wonderful Diggings at Opliir. And gold is not all — hie away, friends, in spite Of hunger, puff-adders, and simoons; Ten to one but you'll fare some delectable night, Like our friend, in the valley of diamonds. Perfection's the goal that we hope to attain, And onwards our progress is steady : Although, in addition, we little can gain, To what we have compassed already. We've a city, whose Newspapers number but two, And one Public Xibrary's plenty; Where Shanties and Bagnois, in pairs, greet the view, And Tap-rooms a dozen — or twenty. We have halls where our senators meet to declaim, About wars, and their fate who must rue them ; ! Tis safer, they find, in the pathway of fame, To say splendid tilings, than to do them. We've our own little wars, understood or exprest, Which produce fewer weepers than laughers ; And Bobadil valour, which vents itself best, In street rows 'with Fingoes and Kafirs. We have shovels and picks of the best tempered steel, (If the blacks could be flattered to use them ;) We have white men in scores, seeldng labour with zeal, (And tongues, bless our hearts! to refuse them.) 76 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. We have immigrants " settling " with honest intent, To felons transformed as by magic ; To whom Death would be all but a comic event, As marriage is all but a tragic. The ground may be parched ; we'll have rain, by and by, Our hopes agricultural crowning ; The rivers to cross, you'll be welcome to try, Old and young, who are proof against drowning. We have streets that for darkness with Egypt might cope, And railways — a paper creation ! Then drink to our land — 'tis the " Cape of Good Hope," Ever true to its grand appellation. • END OF FIRST SERIES. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. ».er0ttb S*rhs. PASTORALS. > • • * i. STREET LOAFERS. COBUS AND ISHMAEL. COBUS. Not heard the sermon ! Then you staid away, To miss a treat, not common every day ; Our veteran preacher wielded well the sword, And bravely fought the battle of his Lord. ISHMAEL. i: Sword," — "veteran," — "battle," — words like these imply Some conquered victims ! — did they fall or fly I Or meanly yield 1 'Tis something rare, you know, To talk of vanquishing an absent foe. COBUS. Vice, and the slaves who for its cause would vote, Were all the foes our Boanerges smote ; No foe to rectitude his zeal would spare, Thief — gambler — drunkard, — each received his share, 78 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Street loafers specially,— so numerous grown, He took good care to let them know their own. " Loafers ! " he cried—" your idleness wont pay, Commence to work before another day." ISHMAEL. O, pure philanthropy, without alloy ! Of course he told them where to find Employ. COBUS. Of course you're wrong ! He's not so void of grace. As so to desecrate that sacred place ; But as I said, — the loafers got their share And felt it too, for some of them were there. Of their identity I had no doubt, Vile rabblement ! their tatters point them out. ISHMAEL. So ends the matter ! By the bye, you'd make A bad detective, were the law at stake ; Suppose your loafer not in rags at all, But quite the gentleman, as such we call. Suppose him tricked in harlequin array, For which the gods or little fish might pay ; With such appendages as watch and chain, Would his identity be quite so plain ? COBUS. You interrupt me ! Our good speaker next Appropriately ramified his text ; Assailed the thieves— who, like a locust blight, Invade our walks and gardens of a night ; Boost, larder, pantry ; sans remorseful qualms, No place is sacred to their "itching palms." But, as his reverence told them, without doubt Some day their wickedness will find them out. ISHMAEL. Likely enough ! — and there is room to hope His godly censure took a wider scope, LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 79 Pitched into Bank-delinquents, — did it not ! And flash insolvents, — were they quite forgot ? COBUS. Have you forgot the pulpit dignity ? The speaker, too, — -No barrister is he ; Such disquisitions ill his cloth beseem, Who makes the gospel, not the law, his theme. ISHMAEL. Ah ! mutilated gospel, — pious trash ! Methinks 'tis that "According to St. Cash." Dishonesty in rags you can reproach, But hail it spotless, riding in a coach ! Two gospels, friend, my faith will not endure, One for the rich, — another for the poor ; A worthless loafer Lazarus must seem, And Dives, what a saint in your esteem ! COBUS. Like matrimony, as a thing of course, I take these things for better or for worse ; Far be the day in which 'twill come my turn The laws and customs of our land to spurn. ISHMAEL. I spurn the Proud, who would our poor accuse Of idleness, as Pharaoh did the Jews. Reminding proud ones ! When they so presume, Of Ananias' and Sapphira's doom ! The hardy swain, inured to till the soil, Appreciates the dignity of toil ; His calling, unmistakeably defined, He follows up — a blessing to his kind ; Feels happy, truthful, independent, great ; (The spade or crowbar is his mace of state) Enjoys the avocation which supplied Watts', Bunyans, StejDhensons, their country's pride - Becomes the theme of Virgils when they sing; W( >uld ill make change of stations with a king. V 80 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. For what were kings without the peasants' aid ? Who can describe how much the sceptre owes the spade ? But treat this peasant in Ins calm pursuit With less attention than we show a brute ; Aye ! tame him down by insult aud neglect, Ignore his sacred birthright — self respect, Make his life pilgrimage, from year to year, An unproductive, purposeless career ; Consign his youth, old age, or manhood's prime, To Pauperism, that half-way house to crime. Condemn him, finally, to beg relief ; And stare, some day, on finding him a thief ; Or — on beholding hini, were war proclaimed, A little careless where he stood or aimed. Heavens ! can't you honestly enquire, like Cain, "Am I my brother's keeper? " — Sir be plain. COBUS. I'd more to urge, but shall postpone the rest ; No doubt your theory shall find a test, Ere many sessions, — we shall have, they say, A railway here, from Grahamstown to the Bay. ISHMAEL. Till then, one hope may cheer our loafing band, The Diamond Fields won't shift from where they stand. PART II COBUS AND ISHMAEL. COBUS. Like hostile Ancients, urged by "Jove and Fate," Or wiser heads, in some adjourned debate, Again we meet ! If ever question lay Within a nut-shell, it is ours to-day ; Your zeal would go, to raise the pauper caste — And mine to make the trade, a heresay of the Past. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 81 ISHMAEL. " The poor you've with you always,"— so 'twas said, By Hiin whose hands, the hungry often fed ; Yet now, reviling them, are daily seen Our pseudo followers of the Nazarene ; Heaven they profess to seek by li Faith alone," — Consistently, — for all the works they've shewn ; Thus, Ave, pretenders, vent our ravings mad, Against good works, because we love the bad. COBUS. 'Tis vain, for charity, to press your suit, As it 'twere truly matter for dispute, — With many words, its merits to uphold, "Would be, indeed, " to gild refined gold." I speak of tramps, and often fresh from gaol, Who dun us daily with some artful tale ; Feed, clothe, employ, — nay, pay them in advance, They'll leave and rob you, when they get the chance ! Say, is it charity to throw away Your cash on such imposters every day ? Or want of charity, when you upbraid Knaves, and their eleemosynary trade ? ISHMAEL. The wretch, whate'er his country or degree, Who steals, shall find no advocate in me ; But, out of deference to broken laws, Of such effect, I fain would trace the cause. For cause exists ; else how should it appear, That Celt and Saxon turn dishonest here, — Who, in a land they'd perish to uphold, Were often trusted with uncounted gold ? Causes there are ; first, — hunger, silent Fate — That forces marshals to capitulate ! But greater far, let others count the cost ! The galling sense of independence lost. A case in point, and one we both deplore, Would be the forger; our old friend McLore. a 82 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. COBUS. Like half the town, I knew him at a time When few would think of charging- him with crime. As land-surveyor first, he's known for years ; Clerk, photographer, steward, in turn appears. Slave of all work — persistent in his way, 'Twould seem as nothing found him much astray. But times so change ! for body or for mind, Even he at last, can no employment find ; By friends surrounded, who condole his state, With sympathies, which all, in words evaporate ; And he endures, long scorning to appeal ; Or bid those friends in heart or pocket feel. Eew facts remain ; he would not beg for bread ; He asked for work, they gave him alms instead ; His fall succeeds, at time and place unblest — Our circuit Calendar unfolds the rest ! Of independence he was over vain ; J Twas loss of this that fairly turned his brain. So many solve the problem of his fall ; Though others seem to think, 'twas hunger did it all. ISHMAEL. Of all the precepts taught us above ground, Fasting indeed has least acceptance found ; And none rejected it, since time began, With less injustice than the working man ; Willing to toil, efficient, — hale and strong, Where hunger is, he fancies something wrong ; Employed or unemployed, — the crime forgive ! Somehow he feels he has a right to live ; Repulsed perchance, he steals to find relief, But deems his victim far the greater thief. To such a one of what avail is law ? Or empty sounds, like Stuart and Nassau ? What part or lot has he in David ? None ! And no inheritance in Jesse's son. Seize, bind, immure him in your dungeons deep, His Eate's a Nemesis that will not sleep ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 83 Upon the scaffold, with his latest breath, He'll tell you starving were a viler death ; Unpleasant truth ! — but not to be denied, We're saints and angels every man, till tried. COBUS. I'm not so sure there could be found no plan For giving work to every willing man ; The statesman wise, who can the boon supply, Will make a name his countrymen wont let die. Then shall be known who's idle, who is not, — The sober toiler from the worthless sot ; Our population, of all creeds and dyes Bears no proportion to the country's size. Hark ! is there not an evil in the state For which we all may singly legislate ? We rail at tyrants ! — worse than fifty Dracoes, Is one we freely serve, and that is Bacchus. No law, no remedy by time disclosed, Can much avail, till Bacchus is deposed. ISHMAEL. You've hit it now — (a thousand times agreed !) And left me not another word to plead ; Sobriety and Industry! the state That lacks in either is not good and great ; And blest by both, our own will yet be seen A glorious nation, worthy such a Queen. <; 2 84 . LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. II- THE NEW CHURCH AT OATLANDS. ALEK AND GILBERT. ALEK. No more the drought bewilders kloof and plain ; Auspicious seed-time brings abundant rain ; And yields or promises returning bloom To dahlia-tuber and gigantic boom. Then — what with oxen, hamels, and the rest— Another year will see me truly blest ; Or nearer so, than conquest of the earth E'er made my namesake proud— of Macedonian birth. GILBERT. Good fortune still be your successful aim ! To see you happy makes me, too, the same. Far more, I grant, than what so plain appears From speculation upon coming years ; _ . Yea, ought that you— or potentates may claim By childish parody of him you name ; Who wept for other worlds, to crown his bliss— As well may all, who know of none but this. ALEK. There, moralist! you have it all by rote ; You've been to church— and learnt the preacher's note Instruct me further, which (I blush to guess), "Will priest or parson be your next address? GILBERT. I dare be either, in the same degree. As you the Macedonian " Hoc age ; " All have some Church, — in sadness I allow The dance and ball room are our churches now. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 85 AT.F.K. You talk by random ! this I cannot bear ; We folks in Grahamstown churches have to spare ; So ninch so, truly, that we could dispense With more, at least, some generations hence. Vain thought! in stately architectural style Aspiring Oatlands rears her gothic pile ; — The building's grand, but what its use may be, Let those explain who better know than we. So many such already are in use — We, bv a third, their number rumht reduce. GILBERT. Well spoke, Retrencher, on a future day You'll prove a treasure somewhere I could say. No doubt your genius could devise the means Of practising retrenchment on canteens, Whose fronts ubiquitous, with churches run Much in the ratio of five to one. ALEK. Cathedral domes, I cordially allow, . At times are suitable, but not so now, When trade is dull, — and we can scarce procure A rag and crust for the deserving poor — The Poor, I say, whose poverty and grief Less needs Cathedrals than a Night Relief. GILBERT. Don't make me think j t ou would, on like pretence Sell Mary's ointment for three hundred pence ! Our Mary here, by love divine inspired, Did all unaided which the work required. This Church's foundress, — let her deed be known In torrid, temperate, and frozen zone. With holy zeal she long herself denied The pomp which else her thousands had supplied; Left an example which the so-called great Are quick to praise, but slow to imitate. O, wealthy ones, in riches callous grown ; 86 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Is every splendour honestly your own ? By custom sanctioned, and by right unawed, In ways how many are ye robbing God — Who, where he placed you, work for you can find To teach His poor — or feed them if inclined ? Go, proud Belshazzars ! quaff your Samian wine In other cups than from the house divine ; Nor, from God's poor, His borrowed gifts conceal Where moth and rust corrupt ; and thieves break through and steal. ALEK. The Christian lady that you so extol Has all men's praises, and deserves them all ; She stands a proof — against your censure loud, That rich folks are not necessarily proud. My views, however, have too old a date Cathedral worship to appreciate. I've heard Sir Snatchgold, in his parlour, say He felt offended at so much display; "My wants," said he, "when I to Heaven would tell, " What need of domes ? a barn would suit as well." GILBERT. I cry you mercy, and his Honour's too ; Cathedral worship's not so very new, Or history lies ! and pigmies such as we May, like Zaccheus, view from such a tree. But for his Honour ! — you've his parlour seen, — Its gorgeous walls ! its carpets blue and green ! Stained glass, and furniture, immensely grand ! And paintings rare, by many a master hand ! Its costly comforts ! Now, contrast the whole With any barn from here to either pole ! O, worthy Snatchgold ! purged of generous leaven ; How kind to self ; how niggardly to Heaven ! Pray in your barns, and, like a prudent man, Get on to Heaven as cheaply as you can ; O, sight sufficient to make demons smile, If they indeed can notice ought so vile ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 87 ALEK. Like or dislike, — tliis building - , to rny mind — Bids fail" to be a model of its kind ; In short, when finished, you may note it down, In homely phrase, — the finest church in town. GILBERT. And, if so then, — it may be longer, too ; Church friends are many ; Madame Wrights how few ! Our sainted patroness achieved her end ; May its result her holiest hope transcend ; And her pure acts, from symptom of decay, Her memory embalm, till Time's remotest day. 88 LAYS OF SOUTH AFBICA. MISCELLANEOUS. i. ODE ON THE BRITISH SETTLERS' YEAR OF JUBILEE. " Nam qui Time dicunt, palam ostendunt se patriam gumrere" Epoch of hope ! Auspicious year; Our pride to see ; Hail to thy bright eventful advent here — Grand Jubilee ! Since on these shores — our lot was cast, Of years, seven Sabbaths number with the past ; Thy dawn, O, sacred year ! proclaim we now at last. Chime for the Settlers' Jubilee, — Spire, turret, fane! Resound abroad, with quickening ecstacy, The proud refrain. Late, by the Gospel-trumpet called— O, Africa ! in Satan's bondage gaUed, Shout for the Jubilee, with spirit disenthralled. Kloof, table-land, and peak sublime, Take up the peal ; Chide o'er this wondrous, Heaven-acknowledged cliine, Man's nagging zeal. From that far bound, where hope first rose On Lusitanian Vasco's gathering woes, To regions far beyond — where Transvaal Jordan flows. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 89 How vast in prospect, mortal man, One Spring appears ! In retrospect, how limited the span Of fifty years ! Yet gaze around, — how few remain, Who, in this land first shared our joy or pain ! Nor doubt Ave, honored dead, our loss has been your gain. Shamgars and Jairs ! our heroes true, Your types of yore Gain not by fair comparison with you, In heaven-sent lore. No chief, on Seir's, or Bocnim's brow, Not Gera's son, nor him of "the rash vow.'" In zeal, for cause of right — transcends your glory now. Your god-like clemency to life, In conflicts f eU ; The Zeebs and Orebs of each mortal strife, Survive to tell. The ruthless hand, with dagger bared, In hour of conquest, by your mercy spared, Has since, as that of friend, your love ancl bounty shared. Far better learned your skill to pierce The forest King ; Transfix grim Isgram, or the tiger fierce, In his death-spring. Like Kabzeel's Worthy who could dare, In time of snow, to savage haunts repair, And slay the monster huge, e'en in his gory lair. Not gold but prowess then was fame, Throughout this land; True stalwart valour was the test of claim To Beauty's hand. What marvel to acquire such bays, Each tried to emulate his fellow's praise? O, there were mighty men, — yea, " giants in those days " — Then learned Moodie, Temlett sage, And valiant Graham, 90 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Bequeathed, in turn, to the historic page, A lasting name. As others of no mean degree, Whose statesmen ken, and iron chivalry Might worthily attain the rauk of "the first Three." This of the dead, — embalmed in tears, In fame alive ; And can we less revere their loved compeers, Who still survive? Ah no ! their lives, to many a prayer, Long, very long, may Heaven benignly spare, And long each honored brow, its crown of glory wear. Unwooed, chaste Clio, ever young, Descends to save Her British Settlers from Detraction's tongue, And Lethe's wave. The names of the adventurous few, Her lamp of Truth displays aloft in view ; Enshrined among the world's regenerators time. Unutterably fair, behold, The goddess bright ! In form and visage of ethereal mould, Enrobed in light! With golden harps— a seraph band, Less prominent her tuneful sisters stand — And thus a child of earth receives her high command : " Thou, favoured of the Vestal Nine ; "Forensic Cole! " The special delegated task be thine, " Beyond control ; " To celebrate this Jubilee — " In Delphic tones — not uninspired by me, " That envy's self shall mark, for immortality. " Fail not to chronicle a state, " Beset with woes, " When, like Apollo, on its vision — late " Wise Porter rose ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 91 " Embodiment of Hyde and Hume — " My future Aristides to assume "In every council sway, and change a nation's doom." It comes ! the dawn of brighter times — "When, to our shores, The ships of Chittim and remoter chmes, Shall bend their oars ! When Africa distressed no more, Shall nobly emulate Columbia's shore, In European might — and Asiatic lore. It comes, it comes ! ye brethren dear, Loud swell the song ; Lo, balmy Abib ushers in the year, Expected long ! Illustrious in your thousands come ! High in your ancestors' adopted home, Eaise, to triumphal notes,- — the grand memorial dome. Rouse, Jubilants, by Truth made free, Stand ever true ; Nor be your sires, Promethean energy, Extinct in you. Forget not,— even in Canaan's land, Though borne to conquest — with a mighty hand, Yom' faithfulness to prove — unconquered nations stand. Thrones raised upon our primal fall, Yet mock the skies ! Fierce and unvanquished still, — yea, worthy all Your war emprize. Press, in His cause, expectant on, Whose sovereign Presence, ever unwithdrawn, Inspires our Faith and Hope, in this Millenial dawn. 92 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. II. ELIJAH AT HOREB. "What dost thou here, Elijah?" — All have read How Ethbaal's daughter terrified the seer. His plaint unworthy ; Horeb's cave of dread : Fire, tempest, earthquake, and the voice that said What dost thou here ? And queen and Tishbite long have passed away, With their surroundings, while to many an ear, •That call repeats itself, to grave and gay, Even as an Echo, doomed perforce to say What dost thou here ? O, sordid worldling, in Devotion's mask, Like Saul at Bamah, chaunting, loud and clear, In choir or pew, an ill-allotted task, Soon hear the voice, which comes uncalled to ask What dost thou here ? Proud statesman, too, who hast admission found To courts and senates, trading, year by year, On peasant suffrages, by fortune crowned, If Nature stamped thee — tiller of the ground, What dost thou here? Dull morning dreamer ! ready still to woo The couch of Somnus, as the corpse its bier ; While yet no corpse, such rest is not for you ! Avoid that couch — it will thy rest undo ! What dost thou here ? Thou twilight roamer, who hast "met a friend," With open purse and Bacchanalian cheer ; In sweet beginnings, seek a bitter end ! Or, from this parlour, home thy footsteps bend — What dost thou here ? Who dares anticipate a single day, From gorgeous Delhi, to the frozen Mere, In Torture's hurricane, or Pleasure's ray? Nor dread the summons: " Mortal— hence, away! " What dost thouTiere? " LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Days swell to years, and both shall onward roll : And Dobson's visitor, uncalled, appear', To count his warnings, pointing to the goal, And whisper many an miexpecting soul, What dost thou here? Come, voice of Horeb ! call in doomsday tone, To doomsday mortals in a doomed career : Invade the mart, the Chaingang and the throne ; Shout to our sleepers, each and every one, What dost thou here? Come, voice of Horeb ! far and wide resound ! Wake some to duty ; all to godly fear ; To every idle cumberer of the ground Say, hi a tone that shall his giult confound, What dost thou here ? Come, voice of Horeb ! ere from distant skies, A louder summons rends the nether sphere ; And quick and dead that summons realize — And each interpret for himself: — 'Arise! " What dost thou here ? " O, then ! to rank with those whose sins forgiven, Await the advent of Immanuel dear! To such blest spirit, purged of earthly leaven— The call shall be—" My child, thy home is Heaven ; "What dost thou here? 93 HI. THE AVARICIOUS PEELER. A TALE. Some facts are hidden, some are plain As pebbles after summer rain ; While others mock the curious gaze, Like meteors in a midnight haze. 94 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. But, of all truths propounded or made clear, In idle pertinacity or gravity, There's none so patent after all, I fear, As man's depravity. For instance, — think how meanly economical We find the Bobby of his working powers ! And how sometimes he reckons cash and hours, Is truly comical ! From wise reproof He often keeps aloof, On just admonishment prepared to trample ; Of which my rhyme, (Stern foe to crime !) Shall furnish an example. A squire of venerable mien, Who three parts of a century had seen ; With constitution honourably shaken ; With cranium hoaiy, His crown of glory ; And thoughtful visage redolent of Bacon; A man, — a sage, who, even above his years, Could mysteries disentangle ; With student wrangle ; Move smiles or tears ; Tri T sect an angle ; Or on the hustings, baffle all compeers. This man, I say, Roamed out one day, And homeward as his course he slowly wended, A peeler he espied, Whom without pride, Straight to advise he condescended. Thus flowed his wisdom, without note or book, Like Milton's poetry, from Siloa's brook : — " Policeman ! were such tilings to be, I'd fondly change my lot with thine ; For you're the luckiest man I see, By all that's fine ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 95 " Our lives and properties to guard, All weathers, — early hours aud late — Good man ! your privilege is great, And brings its own reward. " Such recompense 'tis yours to seek and win — Yet be not proud, — for Pride is sin ! Yours is a post of dignity ; A sacred trust ! A happy lot ! Take heed, my friend, temptation flee ; Self-preservation study not. " You've only to uphold the laws ; And safety, danger, censure, or applause — Are things with which the like of you Has nothing got to do. "The public you are sworn to serve, And never swerve, At call of boimden duty — " For brawny muscle, tender nerve, Or weeping Beauty. "All bosom feelings, as high treason, smother; Endure a curse or blow, From sot or f ellest foe ; "Arrest your dearest chum, — -convict your mother ! To make all sure, beyond a doubt, That any call be not neglected ; At every bark or shout, Be ready to turn out ; For 'tis expected, — " In private dress, or uniform, In bed, or battling with the storm, Confronting foes, or greeting friends, A true policeman's duty never ends. All private interests and desires Without reluctance he ignores ! And, in ambition never soars Beyond what duty sanctions and requires." His Honour ceased, and drawing nearer His humble hearer ; Expected thanks ; what could he less ? 96 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKIOA. But who can guess With what a heavy deep-draw T n sigh He heard this insolent reply : — " Tis in my thinking, — worthy Squire, If you and others of your lofty tribe^ In Diamond-days, like these, require, Such men as you describe ; For such immaculates you'll kindly pay A trifle more than half-a-crown a day." IV. THE HOLY STOREMAN A TALE. Biogkaphtes are fine when ably penned, Like that of Sam, Britannia's literary Cham ; But, candid reader, I opine That yours and mine, (Whate'er our panegyrists may pretend) Would read no worse if written by a friend. The Israelitish scribe could paint A countryman as seer or saint; Whose portrait would not shine so brigb I If taken by a Canaanite. A Philistine's or Syrian's life of David, Could such engrave it, On History's page — as I'm alive, Might seem a Begum's portraiture of Clive : A Scipio by a Carthaginian ; A Calvin by a mild Arminian ! From every such atrocious Nepos, Kind Fortune keep us ! Our moral portraits are our own ; And every man should draw himself alone ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 97 So thought Van W T yck, Stout Mozambique ; "When late he sought a place, as storeman ; With Hants, a Boer, "Who, in his store, Just needed such a foreman. " Van Wyck," said Hants, " my worthy neighbour, For care and labour, I'll pay you well, — j t ou know I can ; But tell me, are you a converted man ? Bowland, a youth of European blood And antecedents good, I sent away, The t'other day ; Incensed and disconcerted, Because the fellow had not been converted. " Another fault this European had; Almost as bad ! Of keeping he was over nice, And on his labour, set too high a price. Which Europeans often do, ('Tween me and you ! ) Their love of the unrighteous mammon, Would breed a famine. Alas, Van Wyck ! this world of sin, That we are in, Is something fearful ! — hence my care Is to beware Of having those within my gates, Their Maker hates : So, every ill contingency to shim, I must have a converted man or none." " Old Baas!" replied the Mozambique — " 'Tis downright bliss to hear you speak ! Yah, yah, — it surely was de lord Dat sent me here dis day ! You praat sound gospel every word — I'll kiss de book to all you say. 98 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Don't mention payment; — we'll agree; Give what you please ; t'will do for me. My wealth is far beyond de sky ; Such hopes are in my bosom hived ; I always feel prepared to die ; Converted!— bless you,— I'm revived. Of Eowland all de 'neighbours say He's turned a peeler at de Bay : Alas, for my ungodly rival ! Do well he never can ; Poor man ! Poor man ! Till he has a revival." Van "Wyck here ceases with a yawn, and pants, 'Twixt lack of breath, and gratified ambition ; The bargain closes ; who but Hants Bejoices in his acquisition! As fondest brothers, We leave the sanctimonious pair ; In transports rare, That they are not as others, Or even this Eowland, who, far, far away, Down at the Bay, On Queen-street Beat, ere Phoebus rises, Soliloquizes To this effect :— " My sympathy Is with good Hants, who gulled must often be ! Had I the conscience, on a certain day, With his credulity to play ; How easily could I have stood his test. I'm made of other stuff, — With faults enough ; Without hypocrisy among the rest." The circuit comes, and Rowland's fame appears, With credit to his section ; A thief of his detection, Got sentenced to the Katberg seven years. The theft had been a heartless trick, And merited a rogue's disaster ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 99 'Twas friend Van Wyck, The Mozambique, Sweet cherub ! who had robbed his master. Ye who contrive, without disgust, "With gulls like Hants to sympathize, Say is it just, If wars alone can make them wise, Or teach them whom to trust ? LIN ES ON WOODROFFE'S GLASS STEAM ENGINE. Ingenious structure of a master mind, Which earth's two Hemispheres are proud to claim ! Perplexing maze ! O, fairest of thy kind ; What time shall sever thee from Woodroffe's name ? Thy daedal texture, like Arachne's loom With every tinge of Iris variegated ; Ensnares all hearts ; and may the charm assume, Puck's fairy girdle aims at, — uncreated. O, rotary dazzle ! Mystic group Of Avheels in wheels — a sapphire constellation ; That girls and boys in many a gleesome troop, And sage and statesman view with acclamation ! Evanish gently as a waking dream If soon our loved ones, cheerless must bewail thee ! Nay, fair forerunner of an age of steam; Science in miniature ! as such we hail thee. While diamond stars illuminate the deep; Or lilies bloom ; or droops the golden willow ; Thy great inventor's matchless fame shall keep Firm pace with Time, o'er land and restless billow. ii 2 100 LAYS OF SOUTH AFBICA. For his departure hence, what can atone ? Can fate or fortune find us such another, To make Columbia's rarities our own, And Brother Jonathan a pleasant brother ? Kind friend ! — and Thou — the partner of his heart, Take countless thanks ; thy deeds shall men peruse, While fragile glass — now flexile in thine art, Shines, dear to Woodroffe's genius and the Muse. VI. THE GREAT DENTIST. (WRITTEN ON THE SUSPENSION OF THE KEY. MR. TOOTH) Says Madame Church to Doctor Law, In tones not most engaging — "I've got here, in my upper jaw, A Tooth that sets me raging." " I know you have," the doctor said, " For many an alien surgeon Has been invited to your aid ; Hall, Cumming, Dunn, and Spurgeon." " Help, Doctor dear ! " she cried, " be kind, And do your best endeavour; They tried to stop it, but I find, 'Tis worse, by far, than ever ! " Now, Master Law his business knew ; And this is how he acted — A patent instrument he drew, And soon the stump extracted. A building in Horsemonger Lane, For rarities erected ; Received the fang, which does remain For all who would inspect it. LAYS OP SOUTH AFRICA. 101 And thou, whom chance may thither draw, Be sure, ere thou departest ; To wish good speed to Doctor Law, For he's the real Artist. VII. DEATH'S CURATE "WILL." (CLERK AND UNDERTAKER.) "Ay, fill it full with Wills, and my Will one." — Shakespeabe. A curate death has got, Not far from Settlers' hill ; And where he lives — that spot Bears every friend good Will. Commandments ten he keeps, And one beside the ten ; And many a laugher weeps To hear him bawl Amen. And many a weeper knows, For more than conscience sake He undertakes for those Whom death may overtake. He wishes none to die, — But knells must toll, and then, Of course he pipes his eye, And practises Amen. But frail is human breath, In spite of drug or pill ; Some day the will of death, May be the death of Will. Long may his life exceed Our three score years and ten ; And may he never need A clerk to say Amen. LAYS OP SOUTH AFRICA. IX. THE VELOCIPEDE A Swell there was who had no steed, And he purchased a new velocipede ; So on it rolled — till young and old Ran out to see the velocipede. "Good-bye," he said, "I must proceed My journey on, with railway speed; Each gig and car — to distance far, With rny improved velocipede." Along came cars and gigs indeed — But of them aU he kept the lead; Nor seemed so much — as earth to touch, With his improved velocipede. A sable fair — so Fate decreed — ■ Whose gold a darkey's cause would plead — Just strode along, the crowd from among, To glance at the new velocipede. She, in his heart, had made a screed, And, for the crime, her own did bleed ; — So that very day — to a town far away, They hied on the new velocipede. A charger of Arabian breed Beneath a jockey bribed and fee'd Went on their track, — but ne'er came back With news of the said velocipede. Pedestrians ! in time take heed ; Our moral he who runs may read — The time is nigh — when all must try The use of a new velocipede. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 1 03 IX. SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. AN EASTERN TRADITION. Thus spake the Libyan Monarch,- — and rent his withered hair, " Upon your king have pity ; his only daughter spare ; Take all my gold and silver, but give her back to me, On whom the lot is fallen a Dragon's meal to be." " O king ! your royal sorrow by none was ever seen, For all the weeping parents whose daughters in Silene Are daily led to slaughter ! — even as a holy vow Your law has been respected — and we shall keep it noio." Behold the youthful princess, in bridal pomp arrayed — Bright as the first of roses, recumbent in its shade ; Sweet as the blush of morning, and to the robe she wore, Not Andon or Arachne could add enchantment more. And see her bound in silence, to meet the doom alone; Her finger bore a signet, her waist an iron zone ; As, to a passing stranger she cried : — " Heaven succour you! One moment and I perish ! — Fly, ere you perish too." 'Twas George of Cappadocia! He saw the danger near, — Thrice bore upon the monster ; thrice smote hhn with his spear ; Restored the lovely victim, to friends with rapture filled, — O lady, fear no danger, your mortal foe is killed ! Your contrite sire confesses the faith erewhile despised — And he with court and household, are joyfully baptized; So may each Christian soldier a ' ' more than conqueror" be ; And o'er "the fiery dragon" obtain a victory. 104 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. X. THE CAPE REFORMER. AN ELECTION ADDRESS. Electors of South Drakensdyke ! Immerged in slave condition ; The time has come for you to strike For speedy manumission. This epoch, much to your relief, A future bright discloses ; "With me, deliverer-in-chief, Like Joshua or Moses. Too long, no doubt, I've silence kept, And my grand purpose cheated ; Though many a bitter tear I've wept, To think how you've been treated. On you, — to think how tyrant knaves Enact the scenes of Sparta ! No Goshen thralls or Norman slaves More needed Magna Charta. O, I have pondered much alone, In bed, and veld, and arbour; To frame Cape laws, the finest known, And maps of Cowie harbour. Just fancy what a loss is here, — A shame the wide world over ! I'd make that sea-port in a year, A second Deal or Dover. The storm of politics to calm, And molify its rough rage, My wits I'll set, — and first I am For more extended suffrage. .» LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 105 No maid, nor boy confined to school For yesterday's defections, Shall be excluded, as a rule, From voting at Elections. The Diamond fields shall have my care, — Just now exposed to pillage ; Let's see : — I'll have a railway there, From every inland village. The troops must all return again, "With legions yet uncounted ; Of foot some twenty thousand men, And half that number mounted. Your striplings then may draw the sword, To better their condition ; Not one of them, I pledge my word, Shall fail of a commission. Should some prefer the Church or Law, Such interest I can fish up, As soon shall make each Johnny Kaw, Chief Justice or Archbishop. You pant with thirst of learning sweet, So to enhance your knowledge, I'll plant a school in every street, — In every town a college. Colonial lingo now in use, Is very well to praat in, But you shall see me introduce Greek, Hebrew, French, and Latin. The thefts of sable friends and foes Predict no pleasant sequel ; "With Border Power you soon may close, In grapplement unequal. Bad bridges, of more grief the source, Than I can think or mention — And locusts,— all these things in course, Shall have my best attention. 106 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Your other wants, whate'er they be, 'Tis folly now to hide them ; Cape politicians — you can see Eequire some chief to guide them. Let Saul, or even Porter make His master-piece oration ; And in reply I'm apt to shake The " house " to its foundation ! My rivals twain would prove by facts, I'm one of Nature's sad ones ; Devoid of grace for pious acts, Or intellect for bad ones ! But one's a fox with sly intent, The other quite a dead lamb ; So send me quick to Parliament — And then as quick to Bedlam. XL DIVES REDIVIVUS. 'Tis of a rich man near an African hoek, Imported from some part of Britain; You'd say that account in the sixteenth of Luke, For him, in perspective, was written. The purple, fine linen, and feasting in state, Are all quite in point to the letter ; Save this, that no paupers are laid at his gate, Experience has taught them all better. To lordling and swell, he is all " hand-in-glove," With manners beseeming high station ; Every female in silk has his greeting of love, And low bow — and hat salutation. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 107 So much for the wealthy, alas for the poor ! When one of that number approaches. Such welcome is found, as the comatose boor Reserves for the foe who encroaches. Our hero has those who describe him indeed, 'Gainst Vice an unsparing declaimer ; His name it is needless to write or to read, — What odds be it Dives or Darner ? You'll stare! he is one who on topics divine, Has holiday phrases harmonious ; Eight Reverend ! how many would fondly incline To think the description erroneous ! The pulpit he mounts, as the tyrant liis throne, — And bawls to the young and the hoary, With a scowl, and a gesture, a stamp, and a tone, Which plainly belie his own story. Does he toil for a master and home in the skies, While in Mammon's vile services flurried 1 Pray God that he may never " lift up his eyes " With the "rich man" who "died and was buried." XII. TO DIVES AT HOME. For God's sake, Dives, are you fairly landed In snug "Auld Reekie" to devotion dear! And grown at once devout and open handed ; A weakness few could tax you with out here ? Where yet you fared as well as ever man did, With those you could forsake without a tear. 'Twas little dreamt you destined were to leave us ; But such is life ; good Dives Redivivus ! 108 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. To leave poor heathens, half converted here — Seems hard at first, but little to be wondered, That you prefer big thousands every year, To netting something like so many hundred. For who could guzzle " smoke " or Kafir beer, While there was brandy, contraband or plundered ? And Tunes are mended ; laws not quite the same as When gospel folks are forced to act as Demas. Or that Apostle whom, in one denial, Some men resemble; or make tents like Paul, Like whom, of voyaging, you made a trial ; To do you justice, not since Adam's fall, Was ever shadow truer to the dial, Than your bright self to every urgent call, That proved no hoax ; but with a guarantee, From Mammon's Trinity : great £ s. d. Now throned in state, a high adept you prove In lofty apostolic computations, By calling others in the work of love At your right hand and left to take their stations. Not such as do the will of Him above, For merely doing so, but close relations, Who, in your wake, will soon be making tracks, Away from "Africa among the Blacks." Of course you still can act as promulgator Of gospel truths the wicked to appal ; There's Dives, to begin with ; there's the traitor, Who got the sop, some moments ere his fall — There's one who'd "pull down barns to build up greater ;" There's one again yclept the "whited wall." The buried talent too, you might apply ; And there's the camel and the needle's eye. Meantime, Auld Reekie ! recollect our cross Has been your crown ; put all your harps in tune. Long may you reap the gain of our sad loss, Which may be yours, we cannot teU how soon. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 100 Tis not iu Dives, nor the Man of Ross, To shun "the lean and slippered pantaloon;" And something- else — not tit for meditation, With terms of pure unmixed congratulation. XIII. THE KIRK'S NEW ALARM. " Of Gentlefolks I here would sing ; not peasants, no, no, no ! " Tent-makers please to stand aside ; and carpenters also ; " "With Galilren fishermen, and rustics in a row/' Dealtry's Ghost. Mother Church, Mother Church : who can handle the birch, Our eves, to one fact, there's no shutting - , You have tried at the Cape, Madame Brownrigg to ape — And a switch for yourself you've been cutting. Lord Natal, Lord Natal ! your'e a fool to rebel — And the saints shall consign you to Clootie ; Could you never find out, in presuming to doubt, That to act and not tliink was your duty ? Doctor Bleek, Doctor Bleek! you've had marvellous cheek, To give holy folks a denial ; "When your creed — nothing less — you refused to confess, At the — what shall Ave call it — the Trial. Daddy Fray, Daddy 1 ray ! if its true what they say, The scale of your claims is not narrow ! No wonder, 'tis plain, you the mitre disdain, For, 'tis said you expect the tiara, Hal the sage, Hal the sage ! you could spout on a stage — Or the bench, if they got you the ermine ; But we humbly beseech when you next make a speech, That you'll pause ere you call it a sermon. 110 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Saint Macrorie, Saint Macrorie ! you may seem in your glory, As patrons can handle the pen so. Still folks will expect — that you shall not neglect A speedy reply to Colenso. Pious Green, pious Green ! you're a consummate dean 'Twere treason to huff such a creature ! Church doors you may lock — if allowed by the flock— For your name well accords with your nature. Stentor Lloyd, Stentor Lloyd ! they were sadly employed, Who ordained you a teacher in Salem ; Yet you're well qualified, even prophets to chide, As a gem of your kindred did Balaam. Betsey Bay,* Betsey Bay ! you're as charming as May; And the lamps of your bloom are not flickering ; Having sweethearts galore — you should coquet no more, "With such wooers as Johnson and Pickering. Taylor fine, Taylor fine ! though at Long Kloof you shine. An improvement on Nature's great plan, You were booked in the corps — from whose ranks twenty- four Are required to make up a man. Limping Hook, Limping Hook ! you may hide in a nook, — "When flocks have the right of election ; No offence to your gait, but alas for your pate ! For 'tis there you're lame to perfection. Saints at home, Saints at home ! you should hie back to Re me. And few quondam friends shall be grieved ; Be it crown, be it cross, — they can bear such a loss — There's no wisdom in being deceived. * Port Elizabeth. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Ill Oxford Sam, Oxford Sam ! Common sense is no sham, Though severe on your muttering- brulzie ; In vain 3-ou oppose, for the country -well knows You're a second edition of Wakey. Lad's divine, lads divine ! of the unbroken line — Down from Linus, Saint Patrick or Parker ; You may fancy your stream clear as Heaven's sunbeam, But the Tiber itself is not darker. Prophets all, Prophets all ! sprung- from Peter and Paul — Your Sisyphiau pretentions are flighty ; To sink or to save any heir of the grave — Dare you think to instruct the Almighty ? Timid souls, Timid souls! Heaven all things controls — Let falsehood provide against harm ; But Truth shall stand fast, — undismayed to the last — So a truce to the Kirk's New Alarm. XIV. THE PHILISTINE LOCATION. A KAFIR TALE. Kxow you the black Location, beyond the Cowie stream, Where triumphs dissipation, and vain reformers dreain ? "Where angry natives quarrel, and the friends of Reformation Bewail then deeds immoral, at the Philistine location. Of course there's much in system, — the best may judge amiss ; There may be pain hi wisdom, in ignorance much bliss. Such maxims, if well founded, afford this consolation, That a scene of bliss unbounded, is the Philistine location. 112 LAVS OF SOUTH AFRICA. To sound a note of warning — and words of truth to teach, To sages went, one morning, a learned Busby each ; Their private broils condoning, of party, sect, and station, They came, disputes postponing, to the Philistine location. As Saints they walked, or rather, as conquerors to invade — Thus Patriarch and Father once joined hi one crusade ; O, prospect iminviting ! O, scene of consternation ! They found the niggers fighting — at the Philistine location. Upon a countenance merry, Piet sported one black eye ; Klaas waved a monstrous kerrie, and Hants an assegai ! Clenched knuckles delved and thundered- — in fierce degladi- ation, Among the foes, some hundred, at the Philistine location. Stout champion Packamesa, to earth his foeman dashed — Jim alias Gondolesa proclaimed his shoulder smashed ! Swaart wives displayed their powers of ratiocination — And rained abuse in showers, at the Philistine location. Sad murderers and manners! they fought nor seemed to cease — Till our two truce-proclaimers rushed in, and shouted "Peace!" Not Greek, nor Trojan Herald, hi Homer's grand narration, Protected lives imperilled, like those at our location. Loud roared the junior Mentor, to frenzy almost moved ; And in the tones of Stentor — their conduct thus reproved : " Disturbers ! we have caught you ! Just give an explanation, "If tliis is what we've taught you, in City or location? " "O, savages ferocious!" the elder sage exclaimed, "Your conduct is atrocious, and makes me quite ashamed! " 'Twill surely bring distraction on every Christian nation, "To hear of this transaction at your Philistine location." Thus they proceeded plainly — to say their pious say; "When some remarks ungainly, repelled them quite away. For with unruly vigour, to their unfeigned vexation, Outspoke a woolly nigger, at the Philistine location: — LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 113 " Pray God, through your connection — we may attain at last, " The state of meek perfection, in Paris and Belfast ! "Ah ! with such mild example, of strife we'll make cessation, "Nor on good counsel trample, at the Philistine location. y "Too true, we're wild and silly, but not so precious vain, " As to match our poor Sanclilh, with Bismarck or Bazaine. "We in probation linger — but can spurn the Christian nation, " That points with dirty finger, at our Philistine location. XV. STANZAS TO THE HON. WILLIAM PORTER. SENT WITH THE AUTHOR'S LIKENESS. I saw thee once, and not hi dreamy trance, As Homer his Achilles ; or as now, A truer hero views with kindlier glance, An humbler muse, I saw, nor wondered how Discordant senates to one chief could bow. Eight springs have sped ! and change there none appeal's — So Fame avers, — in thine exalted brow ; Nor much in mine, which evermore it cheers To wish great Porter health, long life, and happy years. Yet, durst I breathe, — disclaiming vain pretence To ought as wisdom hailed beneath the sun ; — One heartfelt utterance, and, without offence, Indulge the same — nor tongue, nor pen would shun i 114 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. To give it words and say: — Enough is done By thee, Great heart ! unfearing Time's appeal — In hardy strifes, and victories bravely won — A hero's claim to ratify and seal, Let younger heads and hands, so serve the Commonweal. XVI. PRIMATE GRAY'S SUCCESSOR. Who's to be the chosen ; who stands to-day, Successor worthy of Primate Gray ? An African Cephas do we behold In preaching and doing and suffering bold ? Shall a meek Matthias, as such, appear ? Shall a proud Diotrephes domineer ? Shall our choice be blest, — or the favourite prove A high Corinthian, noiuished by Jove 1 » Shall the lots go forth, and a Caiaphas take, With Herod and Pilate a third to make — With priestly succession and line as true As those of Nadab and Abihu ? Who, ex officio, can descry, That One, for the good of All must die, But cares no more ! shall we choose him ? Nay ! He is no successor of Primate Gray. Shall an Osnaberg flaunt? or a Wolsey reign? A monarch's parder, a mitre's stain ! Shall we choose a Brummell to mutter prayers To carriage windows, and empty chairs ? The slave of rules, that would clearly expel The chosen Twelve, and their lord as well ! No ! Simony's reign must pass away, We need a successor to Primate Gray. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 115 Departed Saint ! If our gratitude Ever failed to pronounce thee great and good, Whilst thou, long years, in a hostile land like Milton's Abdiel, alone couldst stand; Ere the voice that proclaimed thy victory won, Had hailed thee : " Servant of God, well done ! " Let Justice shout, and the nations say How blest is thy memory, Primate Gray ! Successor come ! be concealed no more ; We need thee as Milan her Ambrose of yoi'e. Celt, Saxon, or African-born be thou — Thy claim, none the less, we shall gladly allow. Appear ! bid our lonely desert smile — A second Nathaniel, in whom is no guile. Thy powers, in the cause of truth display, Successor, worth of Primate Gray. XVII. THE CASE OF MR. T. LEONARD. Some talk of Prussian victories, and Gallia's low condition ; Cape Parliaments, Molteno's bill, and Eastern opposition. How Sirach Solomon, to sense, his claim has not relin- quished, — How Clough and Thompson fought like men, and Distin got distinguished. Enough of this ; too much of that ; some truth we must arrive at; Perchance too muetfof public life, has made us blind to private ; How oft must humble merit pine, with no allay to suffering ? And when the coffin-lid is nailed, we'll be ready with our offering. Our cash and sympathy alas ! fall in directions lunar ; Of course the thing would go "all right," had we but known it sooner. i 2 116 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. O, ladies fair, and gents so kind : Tim Leonard still is living, He who attention to your wants, so constant was in giving ! With health and income sore abridged ; by countless ills o'ertaken, — By debts and duns austerely pressed ; by many a friend forsaken. His morning walks were known to all ; and evening Rounds diurnal ; But, by retrenchment, he has lost the "taking" of the Journal. With losses here and crosses there,it smely must unman him ! By one newspaper he has lost just twenty pounds per annum. Where are you, wealth and opulence ; with all your public spirit 1 Your influence and affluence ; your knowledge of true merit ? That Tim, poor man! is very low, the plain unvarinshed fact is; Now, Tongue-philanthropist, reduce your theories to practice. Don't keep your kindness till he's dead ; then be in haste to show it ; And say, when Tim was poor and low, 3'ou really did not know it. A small subscription set on foot, would prove a rich enjoy- ment ! And, better still ! — perhaps you might just find him some employment. Ye aiders of the poor, the blind, the weak in purse and limb ; Ye, who'd do all for charity, do something now for Tim. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 117 XVILL TEMPERANCE ALPHABETICAL RHYME. A stands for Ale, which gives ailments enough ; B is for Brandy — more head-splitting stuff; C is Champagne, that gives pain without sham, D is for Drunkard, vile slave of a dram. E is Excess, to which tipplers will go ; F is for Folly, forerunner of woe ; G is for Gutters, where drunkards we find, H is for Hand-cuffs, such madmen to bind. I is for Illness, produced by the bowl ; J is for Justice, all sots to control; K is for Killing, a feat done by beer ; L is for Laudanum, to mix with the cheer. M is for Money, by drinkers misspent ; N is for Newgate, where often they're sent ; O is for Oaf, who will squander his cash, P is for Poison — rum, gin, and like trash ! Q is for Quarrel, which toping will breed ; B is for Bum, — precious rum stuff indeed ! S is for Smoke, that dear drink of the sot; T is for Tick, on which often 'tis got ; U is for Ugliness, caused by curs't drink, V is Vexation — if topers would think. W is for Water, best drink in the land ; X for "Double X," Father Alcohol's brand. Y is for Youth, who must shim such disgrace; Z is for Zigzag, the drunkard's true pace. e^Sl^S)^ f 118 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. SONGS THE BOYS OF THE VAAL. Tune — "Lord LocMnvar." Trite sons of the South — ever pledged to prevail, For Freedom, and Friendship, and Commerce, all hail ! With fate and with fortune determined to cope — We hail as a homestead, the Cape of Good Hope ; Like Gideon's three hundred, our host may be small, But faithful and true are the Boys of the Vaal. Our foes of the frontier are ambushed we know ; Not love has prevented then- striking a blow ; The loud braggadocio we heard without fear ; And it chided our slumber, and made us draw near, — We cowered not, but rose up, to stand or to fall — While the foe showed his back to the Boys of the Vaal. By our dear native land, — still the source of our pride ! And the memory of those, who to shield it have died ; We have sworn to Ascendancy's summit to go — Should we tread every step, on the heels of a foe : We have hearts, we have hands, we have powder and ball— - And noise shall not frighten the Boys of the Vaal. By the wars and invasions of famed " Thirty-five," By the friends that are dead, and the foes yet alive ; Assailants, we vow, be they many or few, Shall be taught the intrusion, at leisure to rue ! That pledge is recorded by one and by all — We'll give them to know we're the Boys of the Vaal. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 119 May our ranks not be wanting in good men and true, To toast, in hot bumpers, the Red, "White, and Blue ; Exhibit, by deed, and not promise alone, Our zeal to the Queen's royal person and throne ; And march forth obsequious to each noble call, To add double fame to the Boys of the Vaal. n. THE DIAMOND DIGGERS' DITTY. Tune : " The Bowld Soger Boy. " Ye sons of diamond fame! "Who, from blame, Guard the name — Forget not Britain's claim To our far Diamond Fields. Since Gallant Waterboer Gave them o'er — Nevermore To lay claim, or tax, or score On these far Diamond Fields. "With courage never blighted — By none on earth affrighted — Each with the rest — united His spade or pickaxe wields. From day to day, We plod ova* way ; As more or less Success may bless, And sing, hip, hip, hurra, for our far Diamond Fields. Like our fathers blue and green, We have been, — And are seen True subjects of the Queen At our far Diamond Fields. 120 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. We've come no state to spoil, Or embroil With turmoil — But to live by honest toil At the far Diamond Fields. The foe who would frustrate us May still, at distance, hate us; But who shall separate us ? Our safety Union shields. While peace is best, You know the rest ; If war's the test — For right we'll fight; And sing, hip, hip, hurra, for our far Diamond Fields. Then who shall take the land From our hand ? Is it Brand ? Shall we bow to his command Or the force that he wields? And quit the Diamond Vaal, At the call Of a thrall? We answer, "Not at all!" At the far Diamond Fields. Let hostile Rough or Dandy, Inspired with pride or brandy, Invade John, Pat, and Sandy, Whose courage never yields ; Such foe we tell — Who'd us expel, May powder smell, For pay — some day — Then Heaven defend the right at the far Diamond Fields. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 121 III. THE POST-OFFICE ROBBERY AT KING WILLIAMSTOWN. King Williamstown boasts of a comical spai k, Who calls kiraself Henry Darcy Lamarque ; Though talkative folks, not much given to flattery, Declare that his right name is Theodore Gattery. 'Tis said that for conduct obscene or pernicious, He found it convenient to shift from Mauritius — As many an acquaintance in that busy isle, Would far rather watch him a yard than a mile. His trip to Kaffraria procured him two friends, Dick Boetje was one, and the other Barendze; Barendze was a barber, not always hi clover — For once he grew cheeky, which got him knocked over. Barendze had a parlour, and one behind " that," "Where two and an odd one could sit for a chat ; Discussing cheroots — or, as fancy might please, Dark lanterns — and jumping — and skeleton keys. Lamarque and Barendze were no last year recruits, Between them poor Boetje could hardly get boots ; For he never would learn, like a pupil of sense, The practical rules of pounds, shillings, and pence. Meantime, here in King, the post-office was robbed; Brass locks were jumped open, and sovereigns were fobbed ; But the thief, by a blunder which nothing defends, Left behind him a stick, which was traced to Barendze. Then Darcy, fine chap— like a turkey-cock sweU — Went puffing cigars far away to Natal ; Till Baas Alexander soon conquered him there, And sent him to breathe sweet King Williamstowu air. 122 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. The sentence, full soon in the dock made them roar, The barber got three years, and Darcy got four; Such tidings put Boetje right into a trance! But now he's all right, for they gave him "a chance." Young ramblers — whose spirits and prospects are bright— Remember young Boetje, and do what is right ; And you may take warning — whose conduct is dark — By the barber and Henry Darcy Lamarque. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 123 ELEGIAC POEMS THE IMPERIAL COLLAPSE (1870). i. Napoleon the Third ! fatal Destiny's child, Of Europe the problem and wonder ; From Glory's fan- pathway to Ruin beguiled, By sinister councils brought under. Now taking the flood — in the tide of affairs Now tost on the Avave of affliction — Thy life, — of aU lives, — has been crowded with cares, And truth that was stranger than fiction. Asylumed hj foes, and but saved from thy friends, To ponder tlry war Declaration ; "What magic of genius can now make amends For carnage and wide devastation ? Sly Jacobin guile, — does it urge, as before, Our kings to a sanguine " idea? " Or Muscovite friendship, — to seek, in their gore, Fit balni for a vanquished Crimea ? Gaul's arbiter once, — 'twas thy privilege great, To cast out the demon that rent her ; Her Present and Future, if not to create, To sway with the voice of a mentor. 124 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. To raise drooping Science to honour and fame, With success unexampled in story ; O, this were a triumph, more worthy thy name, Than war and its phantom of " giory." Hadst thou with true Glory but rested content, And the zeal of adherents devoted In peace, by the sword of the Suevi, unrent, Still, still had thy tri-colour floated. What Glory allured thee, to prove, in thy pride, Unreal and fleeting as Iris ? * That high " god of battles " on whom you relied, Was it Mars ? Was it Memphian Osiris "? f Alas for the Power that seduced thee in wrath, To war's unpropitious arena — Unmindful that Nemesis ^[ frowned on thy path, From the watch-towers of Lodi and Jena ! Forgetful of Austerlitz ! — Nay, 'tis not true That word you could cease to remember ; Or that thy own Paris contained not a few, Averse to the " man of December ! " One Cromwell had England ! — E'en now, in her eyes, No son his successor is reckoned ; And but one Napoleon can France recognise, — She owns not a third, — nor a second. Hence lies your bright sword at the conquerer's feet, Reminding aU sceptics beside us — Every Turnus is sure Ins JEneas to meet ; Every Venus in arms, her Tydides. The Rainbow, f Bacchus. *\ Goddess of Vengeance. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 125 II. ON THE ANNOUNCED DEATH of MARSHAL MACMAHON (1870). "What tidings from Em-ope, — sad camp of the brave, And autocrats waning in madness, — Appal even* heart, as a wail from the grave, Eclipsing all echoes of sadness ? Macmahon is dead ! To enquire is not meet If his warfare in victory ended ; That victory were sorer than fellest defeat, By the loss of such hero attended. Nor seek we, with prying minuteness, to know His stature in court elevation ; Degrees and distinctions he well might forego, Who stood first in the love of a nation. Bewail him, Hibemia ! his forefathers' land, — "Whose memory it joyed him to cherish ; Lament for him, France, where he held high command, "Mid honours that never can perish. No Danton was he, to discover in woe, That Keason espoused not his quarrels ; No gloomy Condorcet, no fierce Mirabeau, Distaming with treason his lam-els. J e> His country, brave soldier ! with patriot love, In the Maelstrom of anarchy, serving — Bight onward and ever, his footsteps did move, With duty, undaunted, unswerving. Bepublic or kingdom, that country the same Still owes him the love of a mother ; What Briton, that venerates Falkland's dear name, And feels not, in Hampden, a brother ? 126 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. So loved, so lamented, so trusted, he died, — Great marshal ! by fortune deserted, Who long had continued, of Europe the pride, Could valour the doom have averted. The Genius of chivalry weeps for the fall Of Gallia's puissant protector ; As Paris, disconsolate, sighs from her wall, And fares as a Troy without Hector. Long, long be his name, as an heirloom, adored — His end, by the nations, lamented ; And chiefs yet unborn, draw renown from his sword, By Erin's fair daughters presented ! In peace, at his tomb, let posterity meet, — Instructed by Teuton and Roman, That a heart more heroic and true, never beat In the bosom of comrade or foeman. Of the amaranth garland, that blooms o'er his head, 'Tis not in the grave to deprive him ! Like a soldier he warred, like a martyr he bled, For an Empire that will not survive him. III. THE FALL OF PARIS (1871). Six moons, unmindful of the world's unrest, In all the horrors carnage could reveal ! Have to a crisis brought the strife unblest ; Proud Paris falls ; and on her stricken breast Another Cpesar plants his iron heel. Great source of vanquishers ! a mighty line, From Brennus down to Pharamond ; the soil Of Him — true potentate ! whose sword divine Expelled the invaders of the holy shrine ; Has^ thou, at last, become the foeman's spoil ? LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 127 Thou ! who did'st seem to arbitrate on High, — Thy so-called " glory " promising " the brave " — That camps might throng, and millions press to die — Blood flow, and Em-ope hesitate to try Canute's experiment on such a wave. O mockery of terms ! O, idle rant Of power and glory ! they who take the sword " Shall perish with it," — while a fame they vaunt, Of culture, tardy as the century plant, To perish in a night, like Jonah's gourd. So perished many a prototype of Paris, Ere Tarquin's crime to Clusium brought the Gaul, — Or Persian legions did the city harass, "Whose drunken satraps would in vain embarrass Their brains, to solve the writing on the wall. So fared Persepolis and Lysinoe — Of fossil memory — as other times Shall class the towers where Seine and Danube flow ; Bequeathing some Munchausen or Defoe The record of their sanctimonious crimes. Ours is to-day ! Drums roll and cannons rattle ; Ambition rages; whv should discord cease? Or Molech gloat on hetacombs of cattle — Since, to our new appliances in battle, Thy club, Alcides were a wand of Peace ? Perchance 'tis fitting that a Power who traded In fallen dynasties, herself should fall ; The fierce invaders be themselves invaded — And the inspiring Teuton prove, unaided, In turn, a match for ostentatious Gaul. Vain speculation ! who shall trace the line 'Twixt vice and virtue, when the sword is bared ? Meek tool from tyrant, ill can men divine, Else, north and south of the ensanguined Rhine, Some Geslers might conveniently be spared. 128 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Look to it, Albion ! Though your island home- Secure, long ages, in her stalwart sons — In wealth and prowess vies with ancient Rome, Urge not the parallel, through times to come ! Are there no Goths, no Attilas, no Huns ? Deem not too fondly, that the Czarrish quill — Inspired by Narva, Pultowa, and Sweden, Evokes a phantom you can lay or kill By diplomacy ! — Peter left a will, Which promises to earth no second Eden. Soon, soon may Truth her tuneful warnings sing, Nor dread to realise Cassandra's fate ; And Peace, endeared to subject and to king, See Scorpion Discord, — with her own death-sting, The period fix of Wars permitted date. IV. ON THE DEATH OF EDWIN ATHERSTONE, ESQ. AUTHOR OF "THE FALL OF NINEVEH." Sunt, quibus unum opus est intaetm Palludis arces " Carmito perpetuo celebrare. " — Horace. Lament every voice in the Orphean choir ! The chief you delighted to honour is sped; O, grief most intense to the Muse and the Lyre, Whose mightiest, tunefullest, dearest is dead ! He sinks in ripe age — as succumbs the vast oak Beneath its rich freight, to the northern blast ; The Poet-magician, whose spell could evoke An army — an empire — a world from the Past. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 129 Great Bard ! to a niche in the Temple of Fame, Thy school-day effusions had lifted thee high; Even hadst thou not lived to establish a name Which, like thy own Nineveh, never can die. Thy place 'mong the great ones of earth is secured, "With justness the nations will ne'er disallow ; High Priest of a shrine, where no votary's allured By Bigotry's trade-mark or Time-serving bow. And thou wert a prophet! — perchance ere thy time, Of Titterings that tribes oft shall ponder again ; "Tis not to be feared — with thy message sublime, Our Israel in Egypt shall always remain. Instructed so well, by thy zeal from above, In raptures have teachable spirits survived Ideas of God, and His truth, and His love, From Sibyls, and Florentine " Circles " derived. Which most do we pause to admire in thy page — Thy genius transcendant, or marvellous lore ? Thy soul's optic glass, keeping pace with the age, Has truly outdistanced the masters of yore. " Three Poets in tln-ee distant ages," had sung, Nor knew we a fourth, mighty Poet, till thee ! Thee, Atherstone justly, whose musical tongue Owned not a superior among " the first three." Who else is the claimant ? or turn we in vain To later Italia, immortal in song ? To Pulci, or Petrarch, or Tasso, the strain Of thy magic order could never belong. Not bard of Hyperion — or Islam's revolt, Nor him who was Bondman, that Greece might be free, Nor Laker, nor Laureate aspired to exalt Calliope's name in our annals with thee. A day may be looming for slave-marts and tin-ones, When these shall be sacred, and those freely stand ; And nations unite, and then* Babel of tones Be merged hi one language — on sea and on land. K 130 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. But never, O, never ! — come carnage or peace — Millenniiun or chaos to Gentile or Jew ; Shall you, wondrous Poet of Nineveh cease To find, with our Miltons, "fit audience though few." ON A CHILD Tis past ; baby rapt one ! the conflict was brief ; No more earthly arms can enfold thee ! Yet seems it a miracle — hard of belief, To think we no longer behold thee. So lovely thou wert ! so endearing to all ; This stroke, like a sentence death-dooming. On many a heart of affection must fall — Their joys, with thy body, entombing. Thy space who shall fill to our languishing sight, School, play-ground, and homestead adorning? Alas! 'tis a void, lovely vision of light — Thy sun is gone down in the morning. Gone down! and thy baby companions in woe, The tale of thy absence may whisper; That soft cherub-voice, that enchanted them so, Is mute as the grave, pretty lisper ! Not so the blest voice, which true condolence gives; O, parents and relatives weeping; And bids you rejoice! Inez Eleanor fives ; Not dead is your loved one, but sleeping. Then drown not, with wailings, her premature knell — Nor tax her with sins unf orgiven ; Nor ask, — " Is it well with the child ? — it is well ! For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 131 VI. ALICIA. "Where in climes far oriental — Silver Jumna rolls his tide, Racked, long days, by tortures mental, She, the young, the loved, the gentle, Fair Alicia pined and died. There, grim death, his fell commission Proved to her, the lovely one, Who — unknown to vain ambition, Least had dreaded competition "With the daughters of the sun! Friends, relations, parents tender! Unprepared for such a doom; At His call, who first did lend her, "Who shall teach us to surrender This, our loved one, to the tomb? Lone sunivors, while you languish For the life no care could save; Other tears than those of anguish — Hopeless, atheistic anguish ; Should bedew her early grave. Taught, in life's existence dreary, To endure Affliction's smart — Like our friend, of life a-weary, Learn to act like her and Mary, Learn to choose " the better part." Vainly seek not to recover, Bosoms, smiles, and hearts so riven ; Kind relation, — tender lover ! Learn to look, when life is over, To a lasting home in Heaven. k 2 132 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. VII. LAVINIA. (SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. W. PARSONS.) Mourner ! "whence the dark procession, Where mute gazers hold their breath — Where pale grief, in dumb expression, Journeys side by side -with Death ? Why so many anguish-hearted Throng the pathway marked with tears ? Has the absent one departed In fair youth or riper years"? Vain the tidings long to smother ; Vain obstruct the tide of woe ! For the Christian wife and mother Gone for ever ! tears will now. Not the morning bud unshaded, Emblems forth her mortal close ; From our eyes Lavtnia faded, In its prime as fades the rose. Young, ere while, in every beauty, Juvenile worldlings so extol ; Early she, the path of duty, Trod at Virtue's honoured call. Glad she chose the lifelong mission, All its joys and griefs to share ; All, to her, of earth's ambition, Lay at home — and only there. Gentle, of all meek the meekest ; Thoughtful! — kind to old and young; Slander of the frailest, weakest, Found no herald in her tongue. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 133 To the cliild of sorrow, tender; Patient to the sufferers' moan ; Prngs of other hearts could rend her, While forgetful of her own. Doing, — hoping, — praying,— suffering, Past Affection's power to tell ; She departs, — accepted offering ! To the Christ she loved so well. Even as to some floral bower, Skilful hands a plant remove ; Blooms she now, transplanted flower, In the Paradise above. Constant spouse ! indulgent mother ! Blest is thy release from woe ! He who wept for Martha's brother, Cares for those you leave below. Si >, till purged of earthly leaven, May then- faith still upwards soar : Listening to thy voice from Heaven : — Husband, children, grieve no more. VIII. ELEGY: ON THE LAMENTED DEATH OF MR. A. O. WOOD. 14th November, 1877. In his 24th Year. Absent Son ! whose lovely future To depict, fond hopes have dared ; Early a successful suitor To the bliss by angels shared. 134 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. Albert Oliver ! the tidings Of thy tearful end, at worst We interpret not as chidings From the voice that gave thee first. Thou'st resigned an earthly burden In the Lord's appointed place ; Far beyond the Transvaal Jordan, Far from many a loved embrace. From their eyes, who, as a flower, Saw thee rise to manhood tall ; From sweet childhood's rosy hour, Till thy period of recall. Kindest father ; best of mothers ! Weep not Heaven's appointed will ; Tender sisters, loving brothers, Seven of each surviving: still. x t> Yes, with Providence unfailing, Heaven was bountiful to thee ; Which, at last forbids our wailing, We resign thee, full and free. Thou wert ever land and gentle — As by old and young avowed ; With external gifts and mental, Ever largely wert endowed. Be thy very grave a token Of God's favour from on High ; Thy sweet soul's a sentence spoken By His voice who cannot lie. All, dear boy, that in thy being, Felt, or saw, or loved, or knew — ■ Feels, and knows, still loving, seeing Endless friendships still in view. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 135 Not a shadowy ideal Of thy presence, hope we then, But as literal and real As conceived of living men. Nor shall hope thy face deny us, Fairer, purer, but the same ; Even as Moses and Elias To the mount in bodies came. Ye who hope, in deathless glory "With our loved one to appear ; With sxich vista now before you, What remains to weep for here 1 IX. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE THOMAS LANGFORD, ESQ. ADDRESSED TO HIS LADY.— 1872. Weeping fair— lament no longer, — Lighter feel Affliction's rod ; Doubting not a union stronger With thy spouse, at rest with God. Thine be every benediction, — Young in years, in suffering old ; Tried by Heaven — with keen affliction, As the finer tries his gold. Ah ! no human calculation, Nicely set to terms of Art, Could define that separation From the partner of thy heart. 136 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA.. True, 'tis feared, bis like remains not In our circle here below ; For tbe world itself contains not One wbo ever called bun foe. True tbe world perforce esteemed him, As possessing gifts divine ; But the love that once redeemed him, Only greater was than thine. Oft the pangs of bosoms parted Are but easy to sustain : Hope may cheer the broken-hearted Who expect to meet again. Sadder far and more dejected His last hour, who gave his breath, At a call too unexpected, Though not unprepared for death. Still, fair weeper (comfort scorning Times and seasons), now give o'er, Shall the storms of that sad morning Lower and scowl for evermore ? When the clouds in rain descended, Spreading grief and stormy fears, — Soon in purest space they blended, Reproduce them not in tears. Him you loved ! — could ought befall him To Iris Saviour dear unknown ? Thou— if tears could but recall him — Wert not widowed and alone. With what zeal, intense and fervent, Has he closed his bright career ! " Well done, good and faithful servant "- Thou, like him, hast yet to hear. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 137 "Like him ! " — with him : loved so hallowed Can at last be only one ! "Where Immanuel, whom he followed; " To prepare a place " is gone. X. PHILIP THE JUST. WEITTEN ON THE DEPAETUEE FROM THE CAPE OF OF GOYEENOE W., IN 1870. South African hearts ! Your comfort departs ; No time, in her annals august, The Cape of Good Hope, for grief had such scope, As now, for great Philip the Just. Green youth, and old age ; in mourning engage ; Slim dandy, and storeman robust, — He has gone from our shore, to return nevermore, Has immaculate Philip the Just. Perchance his pure mind, with doings unkind, Had lately conceived a disgust ; Be this as it may, he's now far away, Long peace be with Philip the Just. Of Autocrat lore, he had a great store — And never allowed it to rust ; While limbs of the law would thin!:, hum and haw, Pass sentence would Philip the Just. By some, how absurd, 'tis said that his word Was such as no mortal could trust! But that very thing has been said of a king As moral as Philip the Just. We freely admit, deep science and wit, Exclude from his talents we must ; As learning renowned, not often has found A patron in Philip the Just. 138 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. "We're likewise afraid, not much can be said, Of faculties best undiscussed ; That mercy and grace, could find little place, In the bosom of Philip the Just. Still give him his due ! The Cape had but few, "With duty less posed or nonplussed ; At least 'twas his fun, to mind number one ; Do justice to Philip the Just. Most mortals agree, no blockhead is he Who butters both sides of his crust ; "Which praise we defy, all hands to deny, Immaculate Philip the Just. He ruled at a time, — ere this torrid clime, For diamonds evinced such a lust ; Yet did not forget a fortune to net ; — So prudent was Philip the Just. 'Tis strange that this land can nowhere demand The marble to make him a bust ; That all who go by — in rapture may cry — ■ There ! twig Mr. Philip the Just. Every Sect, every tribe, would be sure to subscribe If some one cried "Down with the dust ; " And a monument raise, to the glory and praise, Of immaculate Philip the Just. END OF SECOND SERIES. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Cljirb Series. MISCELLANEOUS i. VOLUNTEERING. A SOUTH AFRICAN PASTORAL. NIXDORFF AND WELLS. NIXDORFF. You've seen our city scarce a dozen days, Which well explains your scanty meed of praise, Such is the way you tourists come and go, Ere half our streets you can pretend to know. WELLS. I've seen at least your " Volunteer Hotel " — A hieroglyphic 'tis not mine to spell ; Facts please me better ; say, when war appears, By day or night, where are the volunteers Which your imagination painted so To one great general, some months ago ? 140 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. NTXDORFF. Why, truth is best ; the scheme has fallen through, With some few others that we had in view ; The town was then to have been lit with gas, And yet the project never came to pass. WELLS. Even now the gas is not forthcoming ! Whv ? 'Twas spent in speechifying. Do I he ? Words are not deeds. O, what can you oppose, Should war break out, to well-armed sable foes Who walk your midst 1 NTXDOEFF. Allow me, sir, to tell, Our Kafirs know T then- interests too well To spurn the privilege of British rule ; Though trained in Kreli's or Sandilh's school Loving our laws, no more they deem them hard, Their very selfishness becomes our guard. WELLS. Death and destruction ! has it come to this ? I thought as much — and did not think amiss. Concession abject ! is it thus we bribe The land forbearance of a nigger tribe ? To such forbearance must we meanly owe Life, home, and every comfort here below ? Base enuch-thraldom ! hide from mental view, Ye memories of Scinde and Waterloo, And hundreds more, tiU we forget to claim A European history or name. NTXDOEFF. Nay, I must differ ! — should the Kafirs rise, The foul revolt might take us by surprise ; But there are weapons in our quiet town, Aye, nerve and muscle fit to put them down. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 141 WF.LT.S. Ah, let not him who girds on harness scoff, Or boast himself, as he who puts it off! Count not too much on whites, who ne'er enjoyed Your patronage, while niggers were employed, Old soldiers some, who sleep in streets and starve, While sable fingers beef and mutton carve, Break stores, pick pockets, anything you chosse, But honest work, which they, of course, refuse ! O, farce of justice ! — mockery of law — If by such rubbish, we are kept in aAve ! Can you remember, nay, can you forget The day the Kafirs and the Fingoes met, In rabble crowds, but native war array, To honour British rule, and Christmas day ? AVhat special constables— what horse Police "Were placed in wait — God wot ! to keep the peace. In other words — (humiliating job !) To dance attendance on a fulsome mob, Who, having fought with tongues the livelong day, Big with importance, prowled at night away. A bitter cure for their egregious folly, Would be — to let them fight, then chase them with a volley. OTXDOEFF. True, I admit ! but with our sable foes What course of action would yourself propose ? "Tis plain, or sage experience beguiles, Some dark design may underlie their smiles, Some score unpaid ; some bloody reckoning due, Since Eighteen Thirty-five — or Fifty -two. WELLS. Appoint drill days, you masters who employ, For every white dependent, man or boy. Give prizes for best shots ; when you promote Let it be done by merit — not by rote. 142 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. Paj- workmen for their time — but sans detail, No other course with natives will prevail — Trace history back, not quite to days of yore, Nor farther yet than Lucknow or Cawnpore. II. WHO'S WHO, IN GRAHAMS- TOWN. (A SKETCH AFTEE "HIAWATHA.") Should you ask me, gentle tourist — Or, more distant gentle reader — "What and where is lovely Grahamstown, City of the saints and settlers : Should you further make enquiry Of its size and population, Site, construction, and resources : I should answer, I should tell you, 'Tis a city named — and proudly ! From a mighty man of valour, Brave, unselfish, and descended From the illustrious Grahams of Fintra. 'Tis the city, far most English That South Africa has boasted ; Far the healthiest and fairest, Most renowned in song and story. Fitted rarely by position, "Wealth, advantages, importance, For the seat of Legislature ; Population — still increasing — At the present twice six thousand, Half of whom are Europeans, Or the ^ons of British Settlers. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 143 "Worthy tourist ! distant reader ! Should you ask of the remainder, I should answer, I should tell you Of the rabble heterogeneous — Some are Kafirs, some Tambookies, Fingoes, Totties, Zulus, Gonas, Mozambiques, Korannas, Bushmen, "Whose description, from Othello, Would have scared Brabantio's daughter, Half the Senators of Venice, Or the Ottomite invader ! Should you ask me of their standing In the Colony as subjects To the best of living monarchs, Callings, industry, and merit: I should answer, I should tell you That our sable fellow-subjects — Blazoned forth, in law, our equals — Best can give the information, Best explain their social standing, Best unfold their black intentions To then - kind emancipators, To the best of living monarchs. Here they glide in pahs and trios ! There they lounge and he in dozens, From the gate-beleagured Drostdy To the much too close Location, Scenting every door and gangway, Tainting every street and corner With an odoriferous perfume, Worthy of the sty or tanyard ; W T atching what poor European, W T ith more cash than brains to mind it, To then' wiles may fall a victim ! Sometimes, truly, for a wonder, Some of them will work for payment, Taking care to give more trouble Than would weigh against their labour. 144 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. On the whole — I've proved too sadly — T heft and fraud their general talent, Industry the rare exception. European ! young - or hoary — Think upon your early training ; "When in church, or kirk, or chapel, Oft you heard, with Christlike pity, Hazy eyelids, heaving bosom, Yarns about the "happy negro," Stories of some " pious negro " — Tales about the "grateful negro" — Wonders of the "industrious negro ! " How like slaves the darlings laboured — ■ How like saints the darlings worshipped- How like warriors thev were sufferine - ! This you heard, good European — - Till you ran (how wise !) and parted With your shirt or birthday present ! True, I've seen the nigger happy, In his Bacchanalian orgies — Happy with the fumes of brandy — Happy hi his hopes of plunder ; But his gratitude — or honour — Industry or godly bearing, I, in sadness, must abandon To some luckier discoverer, — Who perchance may see more reason Than myself for giving credit To the tale that from fair Adam And his fairer God-given consort Such Yahoos could have descended. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 145 III. IASANDALA! y " The sight is dismal; "And our affairs from England come too late." — Shakespeake. What craven warrior shuns the purple heath, Where England's brave, at Isandala's vale, Together fell, divided not in death, ►Save from survivors who their end bewail. Thee, Isaiidala! shall our vows exclude From dews and rains, thou heroes, last abode ! Nay ' be their dust with tears of heaven bedewed ; Not Cadmus' hand a richer harvest sowed. "Who slew all these?" Tin warlike is your boast, Molech, or Juggernaut, or Ketchaway — • That sick and maimed, should to an ambushed host, Or tens to thousands fall a gory prey. Nor shine your glory (or your assegais, For they are one) much brighter in the gale, Which tells of murdered and dismembered boys, Well might the sun his face in darkness veil. Grim Zulu monarch ! England's quondam friend (That mask is rent !) be truthful as a foe ; Say Isandala is what you intend, A first instalment of the debt you owe. Your illustration of a heart imbued With gratefulness to Britain's cause and Queen ! But Zulu truth, and Zulu gratitude, And Zulu faith — synonymous have been. Slow fell our brave — by tenfold odds borne down. A volley thunders ! heroes, 'tis your last ! Hark, what a volley ! Zulu King, your crown Is knelled —the reign of Kanrdom is past ! 146 » LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Our slain, ungilded by the sun success, Stand out apparent to the nation's ken ; Like stars in an Eclipse ! our memories bless Deeds reminiscent of the best of men. Triumphant soon may Nemesis be seen, And Isandala fresh battalions see, In serried order for our Empress-Queen ; Then be the watchword — Frere and Victory ! IV. HORATIO AND EMMELINE. A TALE OF THE FRONT. Horatio tended flowers, with which he mingled The bliss of Poesy — it was his hobby — In amorous notes, as sweet as ever jingled, By Bobby Burns, or the Grahamstown Bobby, Our Bruce or Pringle in then* woodland modes, Or Moore with coronal of green, Or his old namesake, famed for Latin odes, So thought at least fair Emmeline— A critic of sixteen — Unversed, perhaps, in literary codes, But bright as May-day Queen, Whom he not unsuccessfully did woo, The only love he cared to know, or knew. In love he had a rival — high Lorenzo, Detraction's self personified; Whose wounded pride Had, on a late refusal, Employed his pen so, In libels for Horatio's perusal, That he believed, And was deceived ; Ah, youthful hopes, how blighted in extenso ! LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 147 And how the gay and lewd, Indulged hi speeches rude ! And how the gossipings of young and old In many a whisper said: — '"Tis just as we foretold. They parted ghastfully ! Horatio cried : " I pity and forgive you." She replied: " No pity nor forgiveness waste on me — I both despise ! Forgiveness guilt implies — And pity ! better far had been your hate — Live happy till you see, Perchance too late, How far such honours I appreciate." And so they parted — she to pine alone, As — on a border — some uprooted lily ; And he, for all shortcomings to atone By pitching into Kreli and Sandilli — Sandilh, who was ball and terror-proof, Till Chalmers drove him from the Waterkloof With most unusual speed, In Amatola's Bush to chew or burn his weed. Up to the Springs Horatio " came, and saw, And conquered " too — for jealousy was gone ! Oh, injured Emmeline ! could he withdraw From memory's torture, war alone Could little daunt him, but the past Was past recall — to weep his last Would not for it atone ! For now Horatio makes a grand discovery 'Tis he must ask the fair one to forgive — As he without her cannot live, Him Cupid's dart had wounded past recovery ; Though on camp fare he wondrously had thrived, And other darts, and other wounds survived. A wider field has false Lorenzo now — Hopes brighten and increase — Such lucky chance to slip, who could allow ? l2 14:8 LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. Not lie ! nor do his efforts cease. Adversity with hirn has heightened pleasure, As sickness sweetens health, or war sweet peace, Or labour ease, or penury a treasure ; And so he came to Emmeline and raved Of eyes and sighs — hearts, darts, and suicide — And powers above, and powers below, he craved To test his truthfulness before he died. " In vain," he cried, " no miracle, no tongue, To save my life, and I so devilish young." He blundered sadly ! Certainly no power Invoked by him, obeyed the frantic call ; But one power, not invoked by him at all — Appeared in evil hour. A power in secret he had feared, — A wife ! — he shrieked and disappeared. A wife ! — her wrongs who could express 1 "What heart conceive ? what law redress ? O woman kind ! How oft forlorn, Ere thy birth-wail is heard ? Unwelcome to the world, when born On winter night, or summer morn, A male would be preferred. Sister ! thy living death to paint, From the sad cradle to the bier, In pity we essay not here, But is thy Lord a saint ? Is he of God's immaculate elect — That hi a wife he must expect An Angel ? (Angels, too, have erred !) Is his pure life without a taint ? Or must his frailties triumph with impunity, And thou for thine be lost without immimity ? No crime was Emnieline's, nor would she stoop To even Horatio's kindness as a favour "When he returned with Minto's gallant troop, Not Minto's self nor Griffith had been braver ; But when he told her of his long remorse — LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. lid And how in soul he disbelieved The falsehoods now exposed, — Again, impelled by love's relentless force Her heart disclosed Eevealments his with ecstacy received. Nor his its secret hides, No fate their bliss derides, And now the twain are one, and thus his will she guides : "Just say, my Emmeline, where shall we fly On wings of love to spend our honeymoon ? From care and sorrow whither farthest hie ? " " The question, dearest, shall be answered soon ; Let home be home, your voice and footstep nigh, Play on my heartstrings, love's sublimest tune ! " She breathes ! 'tis ratified, and Cynthia bright Spread pearls and diamonds on the landscape drear, When rapt Horatio, where he first saw light, Pressed the kind bosom of his dear — O brief, O lengthy night ! Now Signal Hill stands out in vista clear; And pinks and gcokums bloom — And many a Kafir boom — ■ And Kowie flambeaux glare, through miles and miles of gloom, And wedded lovers live the blissful hours In mutual joy, among the fruits and flowers V. THE PILGRIM INSOLVENT. A citizen of conscience light, At sales and auctions an adept, From Grahamstown city once took flight, As whites and blacks serenely slept. 150 LAYS 0F SOUTH AFRICA. But blacks and whites awaking wept — And wool and hair in anguish tore ! For he, the absent one, had kept Their cash as ne'er 'twas kept before. Years pass, when hark ! " the Postman's Kno ?k Our hero from the " Pilgrim's Best," Proclaims himself of gentle stock, Of chattels, claims, and gold possessed. That every creditor's a pest, With whom kept faith is most unwise ! That debts and dims from East to West, He must, and can, and dares despise. But does he mean it?— Ask no more! Our friend, beyond what he reveals, Is all a secret — all a sore — To all who'd probe what he conceals! He's tinned a holy man, and feels Disgusted with our sinful earth ; And to a fraudful life appeals For proof of innocence and worth. O, Pilgrim ! while black art prevails, 'And Justice bandaged lets you free ; Just pardon one whose vision fails Your worth or innocence to see. A snealdng highwayman you be ; Who, void of courage or remorse, Achieve by craven strategy What manlier villains did by force. j» LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 151 VI. ODE: ON SEEING A MANUSCRIPT LETTER OF ROBERT BURNS Lang, near Jiehaddin, fortune dear ! Houtfie! — what hae we hookit here? A deed to mailens gowd and gear ? Nae, somegate better, — - (Bear witness, ilka smile an tear !) In Rabby's letter. Tis sae ! the walie-nieve, I ween That wrote " Scotch Drink, ' ; an' " HaUoween,' " The Brigs o' Ayr," an' " Bonnie Jean," An' " Socts wha hae" — O, Burns ! thy Daphnaean sprig f u' green Shall bloom for aye. Of bardies a', wha've stown the spell, Frae forky mount, or haly well, Gin fancy spiers, till gar us tell The sweetest singer Atween Bill Shakspeare and yoursel', Lang doubt sud lhiger. Wi siccan Twa let genius gang Through maze an wild o' bonnie song, Yet in thy prose, clear, furthy Strang, Boon a' their blethrin Thou strid'st, like Gulliver, amang "Wee nauchle brethren. Whyles complimentin Coila's plains, YVhyles roosin folks at Moreham Mains, Whyles idolising wife and weans, Or neebur wordy, YVhyles wastrife o' undying strains To Enbrugh Geordie. 152 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA . 'Twa upcasts, whatreck gied thee pain ! Thy correspondents, in the main, Could, in a sphere aboon thy ain ; Play dole or devel ; Whilk aiblins pat thee till the strain To speel their level. 'Twere patent — on the 'tither han' — Were Lon'on mint at thy commaun, A Southern dialect to scan — ■ Maun prove a fetter ! The cosy crack o' mither Ian' Had sair't the better. Untenty chiel ; thou wert divine ; Let na caikfuniler ape thy line ; Or gomeril fyke, wi s thee to shine, Rampagious vauntie ! Though he sudd mag Potosi's mine In his pockmanty Auld Scotia's guid an ill conditions — Her clannish feuds and coalitions — Her politics and politicians, Thou'st illustrated ; Her vera taivert superstitions Thou'st brawlie treated. Peace, deathless Rab, be ever thine — • Whilst gash contemporaries shine Immortal— rin thy magic line — As thy cawf-kintra ! Whaur proudest stands his honoured shrine The Graham o' Fintra. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 153 VII. ELEGY: SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HUGH LYNAR, ESQ.' 'Who departed this life at Capetown, 23ed July, 1873. "Mors sola fatetur, " Quantula suit hominum corpuscula." Muse of the lyre attuned to notes of woe, Ere classic Hellas -wooed Melpomene ; Or Judak's prophet wept o'er Megiddo, Or Jesse's son, dead Jonathan, for thee ! Mysterious Presence ! to our hearts descend, Unawed, unbosomed, e'en where Death appears ; Impart, at least, for one departed friend, , The kind relief — the tenderness of tears. For liYNAR mourn ; nor all in courtly tone — Great monarchs die, and Fame the story tells, In praise set, stereotyped, to Grief unknown, Or wailments drowned by Coronation bells. But he whose end oiu sorrowing midst bereaves Of Friendship's self, ne'er courted earthly fame ; Unmatched in hfe, he no successor leaves, — ■ Peerless in death, undying be his name. Unostentatious, unobtrusive friend — Priceless, unpurchasable, changeless, true ; "Lovely and pleasant" ever to the end, Have we indeed received thy last adieu ? High names bewail thee, with the titled Great, Thyself, in life, unsedulous to shine ; Adapted natheless to have served the State In court or senate — had the choice been thine. 154 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. To cheer the friendless on his earthbound way, To raise the sinking pilgrim else undone ; Here, good Samaritan, the calling lay, The choice allotted thou didst never shun. A ghastly void has thy departure made, — A want, a loss, we cease not to bemoan ; Thou, gentle heart, by envy never swayed, Of every merit conscious but thy own ! No ireful star — no comet in its course, Portending wrath for thee we imprecate ; As hopeless souls that acquiesce perforce, With rigid Destiny, and changeless Fate. 'Tis not as though thou did'st from hence depart For ever, lost to all who hold thee dear ; Death's local sway, extends not where thou art, Thou, Lynar, thou ! yea, visibly as here. The blissful hours — so many, yet so few, Passed here in converse with one dearest friend, Bear, in their number, no proportion to The cycles you've in brighter worlds to spend. Even now, while Spring distends her kindly art, To weave a garland for thy hallowed grave ; Securely triumphs thine immortal part, Through one who reigns " Omnipotent to save." And loved survivors, who have known thy worth, Shall in thy absence, realise more and more ; A kind divorcement from the cares of earth, Till cited hence, where thou art gone before. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 155 Tin. ELEGY: SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. W. B. CHALMERS, "Who Departed this Life on the 5th June, 1879. Fair sufferer ! rest from trying years, Thy end is Peace ; By fondest friends proclaimed, in burning tears, "A blest release." "Well hast thou trod the narrow way To such a home, in sempiternal day, An earth could never give, nor Death coidd take away. Too brief — were such the Lord's behest, Thy span of life ; Kind mother, with sweet hopeful pledges blest, And tender wife! Such feeling ties at once to rend ! 'Tis past, fair saint, — thou had'st another friend "Who, having loved his own, — still loves them to the end. Even He, who, at Tabitha's grave, The dead reclaimed ; At Nain, at Bethany, stood forth to save, — Immanuel named ! He, by thy pillow, though unseen, Stood, — bacte thee live beyond our mere terrene — Beyond the Jordan's wave, in fields of living green. Short-sighted mortals, how we grieved — O, spirit blest ! Forgetting, in thy tortures unrelieved — God's way is best. When strength gave way, — and pain on pain Announced grim Death's inexorable reign, Oblivious of the truth that we shall meet again. 156 LAYS OP SOUTH AFRICA. Death found thee on that final day, No "death-bed saint;" Long days and years it had been thine to pray, And not to faint. Such, from dear childhood, was the zeal Thou plainly, in the better cause, did'st feel, 'Twould seem Heaven, from thy birth, had sealed thee with its seal. Long, long shall stricken hearts deplore A loss in you — Whose right-hand givings to the friendless poor, The left ne'er knew. Thy memory, like an incense sweet, Shall long survive ; yea, weeping friends shall meet, Of many a rank and grade, thy goodness to repeat. Farewell ! 'tis yours to wear the crown, Who bore the cross ; Not Cradock, nor the land of Ham alone Bewails thy loss. Too blest the praise of earth to claim, Among the gentle and the good thy fame Shall long descend with Time, — and gild even Chalmers' name. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 157 IX. AN ANSWER TO THE "EASTERN LEGEND" OF " DECANUS," Published en t the " Standard and Mall " Newspaper. [Note.— The "legend" to which this was written in reply, reflected in a satirical manner on the carelessness of the Grahamstown Police authorities in suffering a valuable Painting to be removed one night from the Conrt-house. The author, in the following verses, alludes to the practical joke from an opposite point of view.] Hail, mighty Decamis ! grey dotard or boy, "lis feared that your brain must have wandered; Or rhyming dull legends, less time you'd employ, In Capetown for Argus or Standard. Your late peeler ditty was chaunted we know, To prove an esteem deeply rooted ; You say your historical ken is "so so," A fact by no mortal disputed. Invincible Dulness ! no science avails, To baffle your" hardy intention ; Prove this, O Decanus, whose brain never fails, In something akin to invention. To please you — the bobbies up here are no use In trustworthy station or tussle ; But then, 'tis not every big town can produce, So worthy a champion as Bussell.* O, valiant Decanus ! 'tis not in your lay To throw an unworthy aspersion — So, just reconsider your legend some day, And doubtless we'll have a new version. A second "sea-green Incorruptible." 158 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Decanus ! in reason, we surely may Lope — Truth seeing you'll fondly unmask it ; And give us the same without figure or trope, Of Sultan or Haroun-Al-Raschid. No doubt, as you study and write for our good — On us you will further have ~pitj ; And earnestly caution — to act as they should, The night- walking swells of out' city. Attorneys, and sinecure clerks, and M.P.'s — Of coiuse you'll allude to them faintly, In hoping they've earned some extra degrees, By shifting that picture " so quaintly." From Estment's Red Lion to Leonards' White Horse Unscathed by the 'Tizer and Journal; The blessed night zephyr is turned in its course, Or stunk by their bowlings nocturnal. Propriety surely such conduct condemns ! And truly Decanus can show it — Your squibs upon Deans, and C.C.'s., and R.M.'s In mercy forbear, Master Poet. Advise our good sinecure clerks and M.P.'s, And likewise our briefless attorneys, To study their credit and think of their ease, By keeping from venturous journeys. On Law and on Justice, by night or by day, When Kafirs and Fingoes would trample, How can we in conscience, presume to say Nay, If law-makers set the example? LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA 159 X. LIN ES ON THE DEATH OF FRANCES HOPE, Lvfaxt Daughter of S — and \Y — A — . Frances Hope ! an early horn- Sees thee numbered with the dead ! As in adverse winds ; the flower Droops its unrepining head. Friends have wailed thee brokenhearted, But thy " token " had not failed ; Thou hadst wept no love departed — Thou no friendship hadst bewailed. Of thy lispings talked of Father, Uttered in undying love ; Not for earth ; those accents rather Indicated one above. Pains and sorrows thou survivest, And for aught we mortals know, Consolation thou derivest From remembrances below. In His promise, never broken, Hope remains for us and thee ; Knowing Him, by whom 'twas spoken, "Sutler them to come to me." Joy beyond the world's undoing To our darling now r is given ; Earthly claims no more pursuing, Her dear birthright is in Heaven. 1 130 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XI. ON ANOTHER INFANT. Baby son ! thou hast too early Gone the way that all must go ! Touching some lone hearts — how nearly Other bosoms never know. Two young hearts, bewildered, smitten, For this infant of their love ; "Whose sweet name, unnamed is written With the sinless names above. Cull the summer's fairest blossom, On the darling's grave to blow ; Emblem to each tender bosom Of a fairer flower below. Still in Jesus trusting, knowing, How his arms caressed the young ; Wipe the tears too freely flowing, Comforted in heart and tongue. Think not all the pleasures given, In a world of woe and pain ; Could entice your child from heaven To our sinful world again. Parents young — 0, deem it sweeter, To the loved one gone before — That you live prepared to meet there Where sad partings are no more. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 161 XII. ODE ADDRESSED TO WOODROFFE'S GLASS STEAM ENGINE Ox its Return from the Diamond Fields. O welcome to Albany ! welcome aerain, Fair duplicate, dazzling Aurora ! Now plain as a dial-plate ; now to our ken, Obscure as the box of Pandora. Repeat, grand instructor of infant and sage, The weird demonstrations so truthful : Imparting to cliildhood the wisdom of age, To age a return of things youthful. 'Tis whispered by Fame that you lately have been With rubies and garnets at muster ; Tet these — right and left of the fairy machine. Could little detract from its lustre. Xf worth be the treasure, and beauty the test, Enchanter ! what rival's before you ? Against aU the diamonds of Griquland West, We match the bright eyes that adore you. The Genii of Bagdad for ages confined, In thee seem to burst their enthrahnent, Thou rare combination of matter and mind, Of science our fairest instalment. Thy voice, in our senate, to East and to West, Shall come with an influence soothing ; Our rough grizzly continent needs such behest, In delving, and paring, and smoothing. 162 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Instruct, in like lore, when you bid us adieu, Other lands you are fated to enter, To the Stars and the Stripes, and the Red, White and Blue,. Ever form an appropriate centre. Other eyes shall behold you with wonder like ours, Other tongues chaunt your praise, and not weary, Other hearts, other intellects, draw from yom' powers Other spells, as from regions of Fairy. While other machines tell of carnage and strife, Of Peace you're the type and director ; Let tankards be dry, when we cease during life To pledge glorious Woodroffe in nectar. XIII. THE MONARCHS OF ENGLAND SINCE THE CONQUEST. A RHYME FOR BOYS. First of his line, see Norman William reign ; Then William Rufus, by Watt Tyrrel slam. Next Beauclerc Harry is the nation's choice ; Then despot Stephen of the line of Blois. Next Hal the Second, of his sons ashamed ; First Richard next, as Cceur de Lion famed. Then Lackland John, who Magna Charta signed; Then Hal the Third — of just but feeble mind. Edward the First, renowned for power and pride ; Next Edward, who in Berkeley Castle died. A third King Edward wears the English crown ; A second Richard soon by friends put down, Then reigns fourth Henry alias Bolingbroke ; Next mad-cap Hal, who forced on France his yoke. Sixth Henry lingers through a troublous reign ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 163 Fourth Edward next, incontinent and vain. Fifth Edward, victimised before his time; Then Crook-hack Richard reigns his reign of crime. Seventh Henry rules : for plodding avarice famed ; Then bluff King Harry — Borgia better named. Sixth Edward reigns, crowned with too early bays ; Then Mary : text alike of blame and praise. Then virgin Bess — high paragon of dames ; Then " high and mighty " Caledonian James. Then Baby Charles the martyr's crown attains ; (When crownless Oliver even more than reigns) Next Charles the Second, " Merry Monarch " styled; Then Second James, by friends and fate beguiled, Dutch "William claims his matrimonial winnings ; Next Anna rules ; half ruled by Sarah Jennings, Four Georges reign ; then Will, the Sailor Prince ; Hast Good Victoria : monarch ever since. XIV. ODE: CYPRUS O ! Britain, far and wide- Of classic Cyprus tell ; How Bragadino died — ■&• How Famaa - osta fell & v To men unborn, pourtray, In words of living truth, That Samson of his day — That warrior from his youth A boy he — nothing loath For God to suffer loss, Enlisted with an oath As soldier of the cross. i\r 2 164: LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Tell how — when Cyprus paled Before the crescent ray, One bosom never quailed — One helmet slimmed no fray. One hand forbore no stroke — One voice could legion call ; To break the Moslem yoke, Or — by the cross to fall. Tell how the mangled head Of brave Nicosia's chief Brought to his heart no dread, "Who sought from heaven relief. Resound their valiant might, Who would have Cyprus free ; Or Famagosta's site A last Thermopylae. O ! sad, protracted seige, Where many a thousand died, Who would not own as leige, One who the cross denied ? No Christian in the fight By famine fell or sword, But sent to endless night Ten scoffers of his Lord- And Bragadino reigns, We rest not unassured ; "What odds, though he the pains Of martyrdom endured ! Mark every dying word From out his bosom true ; Summed up : " Forgive them Lord ■ They know not what they do." LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 165 And truth, prophetic works, In dying words and vow ; O, Faraagostaen Turks ! Where is your crescent now ? XV. BAR PORTRAITS. PORTER. Sage Nestor ! all our own — To whom, at any hom-, No depth of Law's unknown But thy own depth of power. DE WET. The ermine soon to claim, Live thou the passing day — Friend, rival, fate and fame Can ne'er obstruct thy way. BROWN. From Study's iron track Thou rarely turn'st thy head And leavest (what we lack), Much done, and little said. BARRY. Adorer, to the dust, At Polyhymnia's fane ! With whom a cause, if just, Or won or lost is gain. 166 .LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. A. W. COLE. Long Africa shall boast Of thee, her gifted son! — As every party's toast, Yet slave or tool of none. THOMPSON. Among tis late arrived Sure was thy hold on fame ! O had'st thou but survived, Marcellus were thy name. XVI. ENIGMA. From Grahamstown to Kaffraria, One fair September day, Myself and gay companions two Went early on our way ; Nor thought of breakfast till in view Of welcome Breakfast Vley. Some tasted what would raise a spree, And others from the spring ; Some boasted tall exploits in glee, And some were game to sing ; Not even Kings could merrier be, Till we arrived in " King." Long eighty miles of bushy heights, And vales, and sunny braes, Prepared us on that sight of sights — King Williamstowu — to gaze. O, three so happy ! three such nights O, three such glorious days. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 1G7 Yet, had we something- used, for " scold," And something rhymed with " clay " Combhied, such journeys I'll be bold Should more resemble play, And scenes seem near to young and old, Which now seem far away. XVII. ENIGMA. My tell-tale verse would bring to light A sacrilegious beast, "Who prowled, one blessed Sunday night, And robbed a Worthy Priest.* Priest called on Parsonsf for advice, Who soon the truth did fish up Secured the culprit in a trice, And hauled him round to Bishop. J His lordship said: — "Ah me: 'tis sad! Such crimes deserve a rope ; We'll make a croppy of the lad ; Just send away for Pope."'§ Pope then appeared ! the man whose power Can mightiest crowns control ; And whose dominion every hour, Extends from Pole to Pole ! Long be such amity increased ; And thieves rasij now leave town, Since, Bishop, Parsons, Pope and Priest, Conspire to put them down. * A person of that name, t The Chief Constable. ' J The Jailer. § The Barber. 168 LAYS OF SOUTH AFEICA. Now from four-fifths of what's a spell y And half sound state of mind, A lovely bond of union tell That should all Christians bind. XVIII. ENIGMA Fkom white saloons and clubs expelled — • Fred Blanco loved to call Where nigger sprees were nightly held ; 'Twas termed the great "Black ball." G J To be a Templar then he tried, Without remorse or doubt; But, on the evening he applied, The fool was black-balled out. The Foresters he talked to next — Who eyed him as a rogue ; And vowed they'd take him unperplext,. If outlaws were in vogue. The good Freemasons spurned lum too, As though he were Old Nick ! And said — " We cannot build with you,. Because you're not a brick." To be an Oddfellow he sought — But failed, alas, poor Freddy ! For being, as the Order thought, Quite Odd enough already. Saint Patrick's sons, with gay encore, His claim, in turn, repelled ; Their saint, it seems, from Erin's shore, Such reptiles had expelled. LAYS OF SOUTH AFBICA. 1G9 Now — with what makes our judgments sway Too often from the Eight — What men to then- superiors pay Judiciously unite. In all, three syllables compound — ■ "Which had poor Fred possess'd A sterling passport had been found To rank hini with the best. XIX. PETITION TO A LICENSING BOARD. Sage counsellors all, of the Licensing Board ! To this my petition your audience afford ; And grant, for the sake of your worthy renown, No further increase of canteens in this town. Vile drink! with submission I ask what's enjoyed by it? "While hourly some wretch is disgraced or destroyed by it. If some, by the skin of then* teeth, can pull through with it, The folks who act wisest have nothing to do with it. Imprimis, friend Bosch, whose acquaintance I claim, Declares every license akin to his name ; Joy writes that their applicants put him to grief, Bright Page bids them all turn over a new leaf. Friend Sable gives out that their conduct is black, Yea, ambulant Futter declares they must track ! Cave thinks they should hide where no mortal can pry, And Bird threatens hard their dominions to fly. Head vows that it pains him their crimes to peruse, Wynn thinks speculations like theirs ought to lose. "Whitehorn puts them down as but greenhorns at best, "While Jokum pronounces them not worth a jest. Strong vows drink has made him as weak as a child, And tame as a tabby it leaves Jerry "Wylde. 170 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Ben Rich says it makes him as poor as a gipsy, Ned Seaton — -of course 'tis Old Nick makes him, tipsy. Tom Hand will acknowledge it taught him to pilfer, Jack Gold says 'twill shortly reduce him to silver. Heart says it has changed his whole nature to flint, Old Penn plainly swears to expose it in print. Marsh says that our city resembles a fen, But Daniel gives out 'tis a mad lion's den. Bold swears that their hubbubs have made him afraid, And Glass says 'twould break him to mix in the trade. Wise gravely avers that he's not to be fooled, King says drunken subjects are ill to be ruled. Tarr vows that with feathers — he'd show them some tricks, Then Tongue would go in, for amusement, big licks. Fray says, if provoked, he would hammer the pack of them, And "Wrangel declares he'd fight every man Jack of them. Paine hints that deep drinking robs Age of its reason, Wright vows it is wrong, and Law vows it is treason. Priest tells how, in wine, he forgets his Latinity, Divine says 'tis shocking to all true Divinity. Bale says, in all conscience, 'tis baleful to name, Even Dyce has pronounced it a very bad game. Cloud says that wine intellects go by the moon, In Harper's opinion they're all out of tune. Brooks hopes with pure water his lips he can moisten, Dan Young says he's old enough not to drink poison. Canteens have put poor neighbour Meek out of patience, Till Cousins intends to disclaim such relations. Friend Baird has decided they'll shave him no more, Nay, Pierce with his gimlet, then- puncheons would bore. Jim Brittain denounces each sot as a vandal, While Scanlan puts down the whole trade as a scandal. Nay, more — it makes Gush overflow with dejection, Till Guard says the swindle should have no protection. Foot's path it has rendered as slippery as marl, There's Gium — it has rusted him — lock, stock, and barrel. Now, gentlemen, think you what else I should add ? More names, if you want them are soon to be had ; I speak as to wise men ; mark weU what I say ; LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 171 And then your Petitioner ever shall pray. Remaining, kind sirs, in the spirit you wish me all, Your dutiful, rhyming memorialist, ISHMAEL. qfahcmatown, 3I'(y 21, 1877. XX. THE WONDERFUL BABY. ON HER VISIT TO SOUTH AFRICA. Bright, ethereal, infant wonder ! On whose peerless worth and years, Multitudes in smiles and tears, Gather round to ponder. Dazing, baffling, and confomiding All attempts thy spell to gauge ; There you glide — to youth and age — Marvellous, astounding! Still, on infancy's fair portal — Pure, spontaneous — uncontrolled ; Art thou one, or many souled ; From above or mortal ? How avails it, from what region, Cold or torrid thou hast come ! Every country is thy home — For thy name is legion. "Where dost thou thv inagic borrow "When in sad and plaintive ditty Thou dost wring our hearts with pity, For the child of sorrow ? Beam of light ! — art thou ideal ? Give our bosom some relief ; Tell us thy transcendant grief Is assumed — not real. 172 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. While our inmost inwards burn Baby cherub — fly not so ! To dispel the crushing woe, Magic child, return ! To oiu' lighter fancies paint — Play not with the sisters' loom, Rouse our mirth with "Buy a Broom" Or poor Jerry's plaint. Thou hast lighter powers than tragic ! When Hibernian, Ted, or Barney, Shakes his club in love or blarney, 'Tis thy wand of magic. Venus, or Aurora Baby, Might in walking stay then' haste, When in dulcet tones thou say'st : — " Do not wake the Baby ! " Be our hearts with thee delighted, And may all our fireside wars, Ending like thy "household jars" — Leave us more united. Baby — Hark ! is this thy singing, Or the music of the spheres ? Siren murmurs to our ears Thou perchance art bringing. Is it Nightingale — or Enson — That obeys thy magic call ? Nay, 'tis one outvies them all — This is Baby Benson. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 173 XXI. ELEGY: .SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THE HON. WILLIAM PORTER, C.MG, "Who Died at Belfast, Ireland, 13th July, 1880. The mighty falls : Time's restless wing Has sped the day, For Huh ! — beloved as Camelot's blameless King, To pass away. And briny tears bedew the date In which that life so marvellously great, Our friend — grand Porter's self — succumbs, at last, to Fate. He died at home : his labour ceased "Where it began ; While gathering honours, with his years increased ; Colossal man ! To Africa — that long abode, His work and love discharged the debt he owed ; Long toil of years — to him — Life's grandest Episode. The Libyan clime, in youth became His destined soil ; "Where Tune and Fate, the laurels of his fame, Can ne'er despoil. A grateful Continent shall pour Her griefs for him whose face we see no more ; And mourn as great a man as ever touched her shore. Mourn, soil of grief, your champion bold, "Whose work is done ; Mourn, land of Ham, as Egypt did of old For Jacob's son. The mighty falls ! — the Chieftain high — Whose worth not Vaal nor Treasury could buy, Had reached his native land, and reached it but to die 174 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. Approach, his grave ; O, sight sublime ! " Last scene of all." Let kindred spirits of the olden time Attend his pall. First that Athenian, who alone In days of tyranny — not since unknown — With voice of thunder moved the Macedonian throne. Let Aristides, too, be there — The just one still : 'Tis not in Death — on land, or sea, or air, Such minds to kill. Let mighty shades press to the van — From Cataline's arraigner to the man, Who raised a righteous wail for injured Hindostan. Let crowding myriads new in tears, The hero's grave ; Earth yields to earth : a mortal disappears, No love can save. Lust but to sight; in fame alive, Long shall his name our blinding tears survive, And numbers from his dust, true virtue long derive. Repose, great one, in lasting rest Dear friends among ; What rank, what tribe, what country loved thee best Remains unsung. Pride of the Senate and the Bar ! 'Tis ours, alas ! to wail thy loss afar, Who, 'neath the Southern Cross, long hailed thee ns a star Thou wert om* Statesman — to apply Wise Councils best ; No selfish partisan to raise a cry For East or West. Prepared for Right to stand or fall — Deaf to the foeman's threat, or bigot's call — 'Twas thine to live and die, the sire and friend of all LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA 175 "Who shall succeed thee in our love ? "Who fills thy chair ? Shall we — ignoring succour from above, Yield to despair ? No,. never, while in horn of need, A champion stands, as he who runs may read— A Sprigg well worthy power ; yea, Porter to succeed. XXII. THE MODERN "BUSY BEE" (A PARODY FEOM DR. WATTS). How doth the tippler, hale and strong, Destroy the hours that pass ; And gather poison, all day long, From every flowing glass ! How fondly, to the landlord's till, He pays his weekly tax ; And labours hard the same to fill, "With every cent, he makes. By works of labour, or of skill, Pure water should abound — For poison-draughts, by Bacchus still, For thirsty mouths are found. In libraries and reading-rooms, Our evenings should be spent : That we may have, when morning comes, No cause for discontent. £=^jV" 176 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. SONGS i. THE GOOD TEMPLARS' SONG. Inscribed to the Brethren of the Ark of Safety Lodge, No. 15. Tune — " Auld Lang Syne." When man at first by crime uncurst, Great Nature's laws obeyed ; And nectar pure, as streams ensure, His early thirst allayed. Long summers rolled — in centuries told, Unmixed his cup with gall ; In sphere or zone, unfelt, unknown, The curse of Alcohol. Tin-ice golden age ! see babe and sage Then Maker's praise proclaim ; And flower and grain, on hill and plain, Breathe incense to His name. 'Twas so ! 'twas so ! till our grand foe, "Who wrought the primal fall, Lnproved on sin by forcing in The curse of Alcohol. Unchecked, unchained, Intemperance reigned, And Bacchus was " divine; " Grape-juice and blood poured like a flood At his unhallowed shrine. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 177 Yea, many a race, from earth's fair face, Was banished — one and all ! "While more survived, of sense deprived, By demon Alcohol. Our Templar days owe boundless praise To his eternal name, "Whose sceptred hand rules sea and land, The nations to reclaim. This home of rest, from woes miblest, We "Ark of Safety" call; To Him we owe who shall o'erthrow The powers of Alcohol. Like Noah's Ark, our trusty barque Shall combat wind and wave; No friend outside we scoff or chide — Our purpose is to save. The storm we know shaU cease to blow, The wave no more appal, Meanwhile come in and safely win From drowning Alcohol. Hail, cause divine ! hail word and sign ! Hail hieroglyphics three ! The Templars' mail ! yea, hail, all hail ! Faith, Hope, and Charity. Hail, brethren true, green, red, and blue, And white, which all extol ! No party strif e with human life, No peace with Alcohol. N 178 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. II. THE TORTURED OX. Tune: Colleen Bairn. Ye true and tender Christians, on Africa's wide shore — Boer, German, French, or Anglican — your pity I implore ! 'Tis of a ruthless, savage man, appalling old and young, That tortured sore a helpless ox, and tore away his tongue. The time was on a summer day ; fair Albany the place ; In eighteen hundred seventy-five — we note the year of grace ; This monster in the human shape, beneath the azure skies, To perpetrate his cruelty did compass and devise. With journeys, blows, and heavy loads, this bullock poor and dumb, Down sinking prostrate on the veld, exhausted had become. And wallowed, foaming at the mouth, with agonizing throes, "While baas dealt out his curses vile, and blows succeeded blows. Then shrieked the baas, "If you don't work, I'll see you shall not eat, " To mastiffs and to terriers your tongue shall go for meat. " All Courts and statutes I despise ; they reach not here, because *' Three miles from town we aU defy the municipal laws." With spike and rem, he bored and noosed the tongue of this poor brute, And tugged, and pulled, and tore it off some inches from the root ; The fiercest of the canine tribe, affrighted fled away, As low in dust, distilling gore, the quivering member lay. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 170 Shame on his heart — if heart he had — who never could. relent ; Shame on then- hands — if snch were near — that did not him prevent ! Shame on spectators — white and black — who'd screen such cruelty ; Shame on their tongues — who could be mute — to spare such infamy ! Heart-rending was the victim's roar, and weird his hollow moan ; White-livered was the fiendish laugh, of him whose heart was stone. And glim and gory were his looks to every Christian view, And copious was the purple tide that did his hands embrue. Meantime the bullock, scarce alive, consigned to fate so hard, Kan high and low, disgorging blood, from food and drink debarred ; Arriving at a well-known brook, to drink hi vain he tried, And tried again, and failed again, and failing gasped and died. Then old and young rushed far and near, to hear the doleful tale, Some faces blushed a scarlet red, some turned a ghastly pale ; Loud execrations soared aloft, and many a child was bong To pass the dwelling of the brute that lopped the bullock's tongue. " Hush, hush ! " exclaimed the torturer, " this news will spread afar — "'Twill reach the Journal and the Mail, likewise the Eastern Star; "The //< raid and the Telegraph sure wind of it will get, "Besides the Capetown Standard, the Argus, and Gazette. E\ >r once, indeed, he told the truth, and might have added too — South Africa has Magistrates, to law and justice true ; n 2 ISO LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. That bullock mutilators unsafely tread her ground As in the Grahamstown Court-house plain record may be found. Now, all ye cattle torturers ! mark well and understand, 'Tis law, not brutal violence,, that regulates our land : Though you respect no human law, nor greater power above, Respect the statutes now in force, from fear it' not from love. III. THE MORMON'S LAMENT. Tunc: Lurry O'Gaff. A Mormon I am, but I've witnessed a fatter day,— Now I am pining from Sunday to Saturday, All through becoming a Saint of the latter-day ; Utah's grey hills I in terror behold — The plates are in jeopardy ! holy Saint Boniface ! Zounds ! we may look for the " sack " every one of us, Joe's hieroglyphics must go to the pawn office ; What shall we do for our quarto of gold ? Sinu - lack-a-dav, far away! Brmham Young' — hold yoiu tongue ! Leave our Church in the lurch — Mormonite stormy night ! Nauvoo and Missouri, without judge or jury, I Avish revelators well butchered or sold. At cobbling, of old, I excelled in stupidity — Though all my relations could patch with avidity — A Mormonite elder I grew with cupidity, No other berth at the time I could hold. Two months as a justice I figured, like Romilly, To punish the poachers or read them a homily, And oft, on the sly, for my latter-day family, I purchased my game with my latter-day gold. LAVS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 181 Sing, hares for sale! go to gaol, keep the law still in awe, Poachers all down must fall — from the same pur- chase game, Not Caesar Augustus could fork out such justice As Elder Iscariot with latter-day gold. I weep for the wine and the brandy of Lincolnshire! Soon shall the proudest amongst us be drinking beer ; Daily and hourly our credit is sinking here ; Even in Utah, our mighty stronghold, The North and the South put us down as barbarians ; Pitv no longer we see them at variance ; Serve them well right, they are Gentile Sectarians, Ddar, how they laugh at our quarto of gold. Sing hush-a-ba ! hum and haw ; pen and ink, pause and think, Sermon write, Friday night, get 1113' part off by heart, Tis I Avas ready, like Kean or Macready, To curse or to flatter, to sigh or to scold. My curse on you Gentiles ! I scoff and I scorn you! Yen have no Urims and Thummims to warn you, Hie to the mountains of far California, Mysteries, visions, and dreams t ) unfold. Here's to the brandy which many a heart tickles, D rvra with all monarchy, systems, and particles ; Down with the Church and the Thirty-nine Articles, Here's to ten wives and a quarto of gold. Sing, draw the cork, knife and fork, silver prongs, sugar tongs, Hoggiried, groggified, tie my head, fly to bed, I tell friend and stranger, the plates are in danger, We soon may go dig for more quartos of gold. 182 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. IV. ALGOA BAY A BALLAD. By Longkloof's dread summits, all thinly arrayed — Three sun-smitten travellers reposed in a shade ; Said one, to his fellows : "In vain do I try "This fever to combat! Go leave me to die. " Cheered on, by your hardy endurance and smiles, " With death have I wrestled, these long dreary miles, " But now 'tis all over; proceed on your way; "Nor hope e'er to see me in Algoa Bay." Long hours they entreated— but finding it vain — Now sadly encountered their journey again : O'er gloomy Kronmi-river most perilous steered, And from the dim view of their friend disappeared. " Farewell, my companions " — lone Ishmael cried — " Enjoy every good to this bosom denied ; " And when it reposes in silence and clay, " May fortune await you in Algoa Bay." Sweet sleep — friend alike to the sovereign and slave, Believed him ; it was not the sleep of the grave ; Till, starting, a voice, like a hurricane cried, "Why here madly slumber? Awake, suicide/" Some power now assisting, he stood unamazed — A tiger's fell countenance full on him gazed, And left him less time than occasion to say, " Farewell, my companions, and Algoa Bay." No moment was lost ! with a force not their own, The hands of our traveller upheaved a huge stone. Which at the grim feline invader, let fly, To darkness for ever consigned his right eye. With one eye too many, the charge he renewed, Like Gorgon or hydra, unquailed, unsubdued. All, doubly had Ishmael occasion to say — " Farewell, my companions, and Algoa Bay." LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 183 Fierce, fierce was the monster, adjusting his spring, And swift as Jove's bird, or a falcon on wing, J3ut the traveller, low bending, eluded his foe, "Who hurled himself down to the valley below — Sheer down the steep cliff sending forth his last yell, Six times fifty feet from the summit he fell — Gashed, broken, and shattered, and gory he lay ; And Ishmael proceeded to Algoa Bay. And passed the Kromm-river — and musing resigned, These words, like a moral, arose to his mind: — " On Life's chequered path, be the eye bright or dim, " Till Death comes for you — better seek not for him." The lark ceased her warbling — and Sol had gone down, As Ishmael entered fair Humansdorp town ; From whence, quite refreshed, he departed next day — And found his companions in Algoa Bay. 184: LAYS OF SOUTH AFBICA. EPIGRAMS I.— ON A CEBTAIN ALLEGED ROBBERY. Some evenings since, with safe dispatch and ease, A robbery was committed ; more's the pity ! It happened while the folks at Committee's Were in the parlour holding then." committee. II.— ON THE CONTESTED ELECTION BETWEEN MESSRS. FLEMING AND CHRISTIAN. True men of the East, who have taxes to pay, Of greater or lesser amount, Be certain you show yourself Christians to-day, Or you'll soon have a Flemish account. III.— ON THE INSOLVENCY OF A MR. LOSER. If Loser gaius his liberty Without defraying cost, The question naturally will be, How much has Loser lost ? The creditors who next him sue (As debt is not a crime) Will, like himself, be losers too, Sad losers of their time. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 185 IV.— ON IDEALITY. [Note. — The following stanza is merely an experiment as to the " smallest " and "largest "' number of letters possibly compassable in a line of seven syllables. The first line of the stanza contains but ted letters, and the last forty-six, — both lines exactly equal in feet. | I, O, Ideality, Find thee darker than the tombs : Business comes ; O ecstacy ! Straight bright thoughts pierce through these glooms. V.— ON A STROKE OF "BUSINESS." A game of marbles late came off Between two youngsters, Moys and Golf; Goff defrauded Master Moys, As he does all the other boys. VI.— A SKETCH FROM LIFE. Jan t e swooning lay, as with averted eye, Dernar and Dives passed contemptuous by ; Earth's vilest thieves, by Plague and Famine led, Had stripped and wounded, leaving her half dead, Yet others pass, and some who, to their shame, No Apostolical succession claim ! One such Samaritan appears in view — I write no parody, 'tis simply true — His purse, his grief, his sympathy and tears Restore the lost one, and allay her fears, While Priest and Levite, ripe for glory grown, Pass cheaply on to Heaven, b} r faith alone ! Thrice happy saints, to whom alone 'tis given To tread in peace the royal road to Heaven, While, all in vain, outsiders pray and fast, Do good, trust Heaven, and are damned at last ! 18G LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. VIL— TO ONE WHO ENQUIRED WHETHER CERTAIN VERSES OF MINE WERE ORIGINAL OR COPIED. Your wide-awake hat — bespeaks you no flat, Politely inquisitive Solon ! But if it be fair — say how came it there ? Your own lawful purchase, or stolen ? VIII.— ON CANTEENS. In Grahamstown City; Eighteen sixty-four, "Mxdorff," a name stood high above a door; Above Canteens it might be placed and should, As Nixdorff, in our language, means — No good. IX. -ON BEAUTY. Our shopping lasses think it hard to yield, In beauty, to the lilies of the field ; Themselves are lilies, or not far akin, They grow ; they toil not ; neither do they spin. X.— ON FIRST LOVE. First love is a paradox true ! We languish, but cherish the pain ; Behold what is far from the "view, Are captives, yet cling to our chain. XL— ON BEING ASKED WHEN HOMER "FLOURISHED. "When Homer flourished? I'm astray; And blunders are improper ; But, if it suits you, I can say — What time he was a pauper. LAYS OF SOUTH AFHICA. 187 XII— ON A PUBLICAN NAMED "NUKSE." Long Sandy Nurse, had a long-, long purse — And a long, long custom he drew ; To innocent vouth he was lout* a Nurse — And a jolly good tret nurse too. XIII.— ON LAW AND CIVILITY. What anxious crowds, to hear and see, To the civil courts repair ! Alas for man, if civility Is experienced only there ! XIV.— ON C0U11T MUSIC. Ch~n Magistrate keen, makes a witness look green Who with falsehood or crime would conspire ; I thought him one day, like a harper at play, For I knew he was sounding a lyre (liar). XV— ON A LATE PUBLICATION. A Rhyme is published on Predestination, Which for the writer some reproof has gained, But this he answers, in self-vindication, Like all things else, it must have been ordained. XVI.— ON A CERTAIN STREET "ROW." I've been where our swells, near rival hotels, Exchanged many a bumper and blow; If such is allowed, it must be avowed That ffigh-eixeet has sunk very low. 188 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XVII— ON GIN. In Lexicons, gin as a trap is denned, And no mortal to question it dares ; For all must confess, who are gin-ward inclined, They've a path interwoven with snares. XVIII. — ON SOUTH AFRICAN GAS. Dark are our streets, though statesmen of renown Are ever promising to light the town ! And stranger still ! it always comes to pass Theh promises begin and end in gas. XIX— ON A BOOK ENTITLED "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET." While secrets ungodly of poor Lady Audley, In mystery long have enwrapt her, Tis a secret, no doubt, how the tale is spun out, That could well have been told in a chapter. XX.— ON PRESIDENT BRAND'S WAR PROCLAMATION. O Hannibal Brand ! no patience can stand Your fiery intentions returning ; Have sense in your skull, and beg Mr. Bull To pluck you a brand from the burning. XXL— ON A BAD TEETOTALER. " Away with the rascally bottle," Is the burden of Tippleton's song ; And to come "within range of his throttle, Its days will not vastly prolong. 'Tis only when liquor is distant He counts on a peaceable day ; However, he's pretty consistent To wish his worst foe in the clay. LAYS OF SOUTII AFRICA. 189 XXII. — ON A BAD GOOD TEMPLAR. A Worthy Chief Templar should be an Exemplar, To all who have poortith or pelf; But good Mr. Minions has other opinions. And goes and gets muggy himself. XXIII. — ON THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF A TEETOTALER NAMED GREEN. A certain Teetolar applied for a tap, To moistify African leather; But the Big-wigs in Council refused the poor chap, For they found him too Greek altogether. XXIV.— ON REFORMATION IN SOUTH AFRICA. "There's silk in the Colony ! " everyone cries : And in such an ape of Keforms, From clerical councils, it might be as wise To turn to the Diet of Worms. XXV. -ON A PUBLICAN BREAKING HIS WATCH. Dear host of the Swan, lay your watch on the shelf, And wish it no more with Old Nick ; Already enough it resembles yourself— Not likely in haste to give Tick. XXVI. -FOR THE TOMB OF A CERTAIN COLONIAL GENERAL. Here Commandant Praat, in immortal career, Passed dft' like the monarchs of Banquo ; The peer of Don Quixote in hurling the spear, And, in feasting, the rival of Sancho. 190 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XXVII.— ACROSTIC EPITAPH— WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND. My own, for ever, though the wasting grave All that, of thee, is mortal may retain — Restored by One. Omnipotent to save — Your lot and mine shall yet be one again. XXYIII.— ON A RICH USURER. Tom reckons it wisdom, in business, to treat Every stranger untried, as a knave, or a cheat ; At least 'tis a policy, all may discern, That few in his company ever unlearn. XXIX.— ON A LATE OFFICIAL. When public swindlers, taken in their fraud, Deplore their guilt, by justice over-awed, What rare exception does the Cape afford ? What canting martyr, by old maids adored ? What heartless Jefferies, to his trust untrue, Who nought of justice but the bandage knew, AVho, tracked to plunder, cons his mummery still ? Let echo thunder — John Montgomery Swill. XXX.— THE DIAMOND DIGGER. Dick strayed for work to the diamond Vaal, Where thousands led the way, And he fared and felt among them all Like the hare described by Gay, But five huge sparklers made amends, And so altered his whole affairs, That soon the hare with many friends, Was the friend with many hares. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 191 XXXI.— ON CERTAIN COUNTERFEIT COINS. Our counterfeit sovereigns may have a career, Like other unworthy pretenders, But the gilt superficial must soon disappear, Disclosing the guilt of the vendors. XXXII.— LINES: WRITTEN UNDER YON WITT'S PORTRAIT. Great Few ; who keep the Many in such awe ; Yet hold in scorn the Finisher of Law ; Denounce him hireling to a deed of shame, Yea, homicide in everything but name, Shut up ! or turn the sentimental fudge On your proud selves, the Sheriff or the Judge. XXXIII.— ON A RECENT NEWSPAPER ADVERTISEMENT. An African chiller of Cupid's recruits, Whose zeal for the good of the trade is, Announces a cargo of " cheap ladies' boots." Which are cheap ? the nice boots or the ladies ? XXXIV.— ON A SAILOR TURNED HORSE JOCKEY. O innocent Abbey ! Like Grandmother's tabby, Your claws are too flabby for climbing and that, Conceited and gabby, no Paddington cabby Was ever so shabby in queering a flat. XXXV.— ON MODERN CHIVALRY. [Note. — This impromptu was occasioned by the drunken act of a sentry at the Cape Corps Camp, who shot a neighbour's cow that approached his post by night, after challenging said animal in the usual manner.] Burke said the days of chivalry were past ; O empty fallacy, we must allow ! He should have lived to hail the prowess vast Of our grand hero when he shot the cow. 192 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XXXVI.—" GOOD FOR "—TOWARDS A BUILDING. In five-and-twenty days from date, Without mistake, I calculate, Unasked, this Good-tor to reclaim, In proof whereof I sign my name. XXXVII. —ANOTHER. This trifle I propose to pay Sometime before the First of May ; Proud if, but once, ere life has flown, In God's own house to build a stone. XXXVIII. —ANOTHER. This opportunity to sign A Good-for hi the cause divine — I hail with gratitude sincere — ■ Heaven knows who'll sign or pay next year. XXXIX.— ON A FAVOURITE WATCH-DOG— POISONED. Here Leo, all sinless, lies silent and low — The victim of strychnine and malice ; Breathe, traveller, a prayer for some cowardly foe, That he ends not his days on the gallows. XL.— ON A YOUNG DRINKER. Hoav hopeful a Hearing is "Waterkloof Sam ! How blest his dear father and mother ! The shirt of the former he'd sell for a dram, And the latter's last shift for another. XLI.-ON A WEATHER WISE PEDANT. Wise Lvnx can demonstrate full soon, That Cynthia regulates the rain ; Small proof is needed that the moon Is regulator of his brain. LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. 193 XLIL— THE APOLOGY. Addressed to a gentleman at whose place the author once called by mistake, in uniform, and who asked a written Apology. Twas I that knocked, sir, calm your stormy face ; No need to bounce, or snap a fellow's nose off; My friend, I see, has left, and in his place, "Another King" has come, who " knows not Joseph." A long apology you'd have me make, And I, in turn, should claim a pair of short ones, I but mistook a dwelling ; you mistake Both my intentions, and your own importance. XLIH.— TO AN EPICURE, WHO, WITH SOME OTHERS, HAD PICNICKED NEAR A LABOUR PARTY. God's truth to the letter, — omniverous Turk, No comment illustrative needing ; Our African Oxen, like Job's — are at work — While the Asses beside them are feeding. XLIV.— ON THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR. The thud Napoleon, in Ins warlike plan, Lost ninety thousand prisoners at Sedan ; Just twice the number that, to spite our Pitts, The First Napoleon took at Austerlitz. XLV.— AN EASY CHARADE. My first was " a merry old soul," My second is lord of Creation, A Gin-shop is kept by my whole— To Grahainstown a devilish vexation. 194 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XLVL— ON HEARING AN ORATOll NAMED GONG. Fools pass for men of sense, we say, When they can hold their tongue ; Even as our Gongs no cracks display, Until we hear them rung. XLVIL— THE MUSICIAN'S REPLY. " To teach sacred music," said Bickard to Dan, "To whom would you have me apply? " "I reckon," says Daniel, "myself is the man; " No music's a secret to I" XLVni.— TO ONE WHO PROMISED TO WRITE ANL> DID'NT. Six months and never wrote ! Ye gods ! how I Am offered speeches as a condonation Of broken promises ! False friendship, fie ! The wretch who, in a promise, teUs a lie, Would tell ten others in an Explanation. XLTX.— MLLTONIAN ADMONITION. TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN. Srx sons of Ham, to Kowie's fetters doomed, Have burst the bounds prescribed to cattle thieves ; And wooed the mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; Or sloped, perchance, lone farm yards to invade — Beseeching or besieging ; hear, attend ! Boers burghers, flower of chivalry, who stood By Wippenar, and routed fell Moshesh At Thaba Bosigo, awake, arise ! Or be for ever fallen — as Mulciber By Saturn's son hurled headlong from the slues. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 195 Blame not these wights unscrupulous, who seem For evil only good ; lives there who loves His pain and would not fly ? Where sleeps your thunder, Erewhile so puissant deemed? Arin, warriors, arm, Pursue, retake the fugitives, nor whine In bootless grief, and humiliation meek, Contemptibly, the sports of gods and men. -ON RECEIVING A LETTER STYLING ME "INSPECTOR OF CLAIMS." Unsought appellation ! To Truth and what not — Such clam as your writer professes — Perforce I inspect, and would send it to pot, To cook with Kejected Addresses. LI.— SERIOUS AT LAST. " Eheu fugaces ! " — Trifles lightly penned, Be of the past ; not my most thoughtless mood, Shall you prolong : more serious items end, Like Hogarth's tail-piece, or Ambition wooed. Hence trifling then ! Yet be it understood, One solemn thought, even here may court the view ; One guileless Truth shall fitly all conclude, 'Tis this, — few sorrows can thy peace undo, While thou can'st be amused ; dear fiiend, W. W. o 2 196 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. THE TAP-ROOM DISCUSSION. A LIFE DRAMA. Dramatis Persons: — Landlord, Teetotaler,. and Others. Scene: — A South African Yard, near a Tap-room. Enter (in Conversatio7i) Landlord and Teetotaler. LANDLORD. Signed the pledge? delicious joke! Jolly banter ! you, perhaps, Indirectly order Smoke, Irish malt, or Scheidam Schnapps. II. View our brandy, rum, and beer, Wine and clear elixir gin ; Find in Grahamstown better cheer, From the Square to Bog-na-Fin. III. Every other house in town Mixes blue-stone, laudanum, soap ; This alone has true renown, And deserves it, I should hope. IV. Lily Gogo, Sarah KJaas, Sena Kevitt, Feytji Blyde ; These, and many a smiling lass,_ Cheer the tap-room — step inside. LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. 197 V. You and I too long have been Friends, each other to disclaim. TEETOTALER. Lead the way to your canteen — I shall see the folks you name. [Scene changes to the Bar and Tap-room.~\ VI. Long, indeed, they have been blest. If there's happiness in beer ! Lily Gogo, and the rest. Tell me — are you happy here "? VII. LILY. Yah, old Bass ! — with two black eyes, And a heart of guilty woe ! Happiness beneath the skies Never can this bosom know. VIII. SARAH. Baas ! 'tis only on the spree That I can my cares forget; Name not happiness to me Till I've had another wet. IX. SENA. I could wish the pledge to sign, And a last farewell to grog ; If I only might resign This existence of a dog. 198 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. FEYTJI. I was happy on a time, Ere I saw this hellish den ; Till inveigled into crime By canteens and wicked men. XL Up, where yon location winds Round by Oatlands to the kloof, Happy wish my native hinds, Blest beneath a parent's roof. xn. To this hour I might have been, Undisturbed in Virtue's way ; Landlord ! 'twas in this canteen My seducer saw his prey. XIII. LANDLORD. Filthy wretches, get away, Or you'll have a tale to tell ! Constable ! come here, I say, [A policeman passes.'} Send these nuisances to h — 11. XIV. Quick ! my orders I have given, And expect you to obey ! POLICEMAN. Better send them up to heaven, They'll be farther from your way. \ Passes on..] LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 199 XV. FEYTJIE. Ha, ha, ha, sweet " charity ! " " Christian truth," " Salvation's road ! " Let poor Africanders be Damned in then- old heathen mode. [ Women depart?[ XVI. LANDLORD. Talk of patience after this ! Glorious riddance ! now, dear chum, Let us have an hour of bliss ; Pledge me in vermilion rum. XVII. TEETOTALER. "Water, please ! and much I think, "With companions, or alone, "While so many healths we drink, 'Twere as weU to mind our own. XVIII. LANDLORD. Think you that I recommend Drunkenness, sir, in any case ? "What I plead for, worthy friend, Is a tumbler in its place. XIX. Are you cold ? a bumper's good ; Wet or tired ? a glass is mooi : Oft 'tis medicine and food, Noon-day hot, or midnight snowy. XX. Cousin Dipper lay, I'm sure, Years with ailments of the spine; And could never find a cure, Till he took to drinking wine. 200 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XXI. Surely drink is not misplaced When as medicine applied ! I the like should never taste, But for pains in my inside. XXII. TEETOTALEE. Splendid ! every sot I know Can some tragedy reveal, Or some ckolic in his toe, Or some toothache in his heel. XXIII. Half the talents thrown away In apologies for wine, Might, if cultivated, pay Better than Golconda's mine. XXIV. A — must chink, the night is cold, B — because the day is hot ; C — because his wife's a scold, D — because he knows she's not. XXV. E — to pass an hour folorn, F — to treat a friend in pride ; G — because an heir is born, H — because an heir has died. XXVI. I — to sing a wooing song, J — to brace his arm for fight ; K — when eveiy thing goes wrong, L — when everything goes right. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 201 XXVII. M — when sunk in study deep, N — when books he would forsake ; O — to hasten balmy sleep, P — to keep himself awake. XXVIII. Q — returning home in joy, II — in sadness leaving home ; S — because he soon may die, T — because his birthday's come XXIX. U — with noonday labour faint, V — because his work is done ; "W — that none can call him saint, X — that he niay talk like one. XXX. Y — to patronise a shop, Z — alone ayouM drain a well ; Ask him why ? but you may stop, He is far 1 too drunk to tell. XXXI. LANDLORD. One to hear you prate would think Publicans were beasts of prey, Or that wine, and such like drink, Were inventions of our day ! XXXII. I can thank my stars, indeed, All mankind are not like you ; Saints have held a different creed — Kings and prophets not a few. 202 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XXXIII. Solomon, Lot, Noah, Paul, (Names which all your Goughs outvie !) Have, by deed and precept — all, Given your theory the he. XXXIV. David, too, of monarchs best, Might be named — the bard divine ! What, again, of Cana's guest, Who turned water into wine ? XXXV. Read, teetotaller, then from me Turn your zeal and never chafe ! Paul's advice to Timothy Few have ever deemed unsafe. XXXVI. TEETOTALER. Scripture with a vengeance! lout, Pray go on and justify Job's presumption, Gideon's doubt, Abram's laughter, Jacob's He. XXXVII. David's minder, Samson's lust, Eli's folly, Esau's hate ; All recorded sins you must By such reasoning vindicate. XXXVIII. " Curst be man who trusts in man ! " No exception, saint or sage ! Hence his follies we may scan In the Book's impartial page. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 203 XXXIX. Noah's drunkenness ! — but for this How transcendant were his fame ! Lot's dark incest — saints of bliss! Turn we from the deed of shame. XL. That the Solomon you claim To your trade denounces woe ; And that Paul has done the same, You forget or do not know. XLI. "What was used at Cana's feast, To determine who shall dare? This may be assumed at least, Nothing was unholy there. XLII. Words are there translated " wine " Which the learned understand As a drink of Palestine, Free from the polluter's hand. XLIII. What a counterpart you feign, To your harlot-mongering spree, Quoting writers who maintain That no drunkard heaven shall see. [Ma/rtial music heard. XLIV. LANDLORD. Hark ! the soldiers are in town, Rifles bold and Fusiliers ! What can all then- sorrows drown? What can dissipate their fears ? 204 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. XLV. Hard alas ! their lot must be, After vanquishing our foes ; But that — now and then — a spree Bids them smile at all their woes ! XLVI. Now, teetotaller ! just shut up. Welcome, welcome, Sergeant Grimes ! [A Soldier enters. Let us drain a rosy cup In regard of olden times. XLVII. SERGEANT GRIMES. Thank you, friend, I cannot sip ; I but seek some absentees Who have given us all the slip — Are they in your parlour please ? XLVIII. LANDLORD. No ; but how are Luke McCoy, Teddy Hall, and Larry Green, Who were once the life and joy Of both parlour and canteen. XLIX. SERGEANT GRIMES. Luke is well, but Larry Green, Has been smothered in his bed ; Drunk he — at tattoo — was seen, And reveille found him dead. L. And another soon shall die : Smiling, playful Teddy Hall Broke, in drink, his knee and thigh, Jumping from the prison-wall. LAYS OF SOUTH AFKICA. 205 LI. Take your poison cup from me ! From my presence far away Hurl the baited infamy ; That's what leads the world astray. LII. Generates more misery Than all causes yet explored ; Drowns more sailors than the sea, Kills more soldiers than the sword. LIII. LANDLORD. Well ! of aU the jumping sots — Hall, this day you bear the bell ! But you owe me for some pots, And shah soon, I trust, be well. LIV. Many think my heart, I fear, Harder than a cannon ball. SERGEANT GRIMES. Nay, I never thought it clear That you had a heart at all. LY. Making every fool your prey, Dealing death, disease and woe ; There you gloze from day to day, Like your prototype below. LVI. LANDLORD. Men who pay high rents must live. SERGEANT GRIMES. Vampire ! they must also die, 200 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. LANDLORD. Heaven, 'tis hoped, will all forgive. SERGEANT GRIMES. Fie, upon you, Vampire, fie. LVII. Pardon, then, is in your creed, Which you may require, ere long ; Vampire, who can pardon need For a course that is not wrong 1 LVIII. Persevere ! and poison more, Till you need the winding sheet ! With Old Nick run up a score That your coffers will not meet. {Departs. LIX. LANDLORD. Every Good becomes an HI If indulged to an excess ; But a glass will never kill, Never make your credit less. LX. Drunkenness and its ills to see, Need we no teetotal charm ; Grimes till lately would agree That a little was no harm. LXI. TEETOTALER. That a little cannot kill, May, of arsenic, be as true ; But the drinker of a gill Very rarely balks at two. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 207 LXII. Granting that the cup unblest Does not wary drinkers kill, Surely, if " the least is best," None at all is better still. LXIII. You yourself Mill not dispute That intempeiT nee is a curse ; If, indeed, the sot's a brute, His seducer must be worse. LXIY. LANDLORD. Once for all, I disallow Your inducing- men to make Such a promise, oath or vow, As three-fourths of them must break. LXV. Pious clergymen allege That the practice is absurd : Better none should sign a pledge Than so many break their word. LXVI. TEETOTALER. Ninety-nine their pledge may break, I, the hundredth, mine shall keep ; Must we, sir, the fold forsake, If it has some worthless sheep ? LXVH. Close both church and chapel, then, For, however sad the tale, Priests and parsons, worthy men, Oft in their conversions fail. 208 LAYS 0F SOUTH AFRICA. LXVIII. Tell tbem they are idiots all, In attempting souls to win, Since, as these again may fall, They are better left in sin. LXIX. LANDLORD. Saint ! in what a moral strain All your precepts glibly fall! To my mind, 'tis rather plain Selfishness lies under all. LXX. Your ideas of a knave Stamp us very knaves indeed ; But the paltry tin to save, That's the true teetotaller's creed. LXXI. I can say, for my own part, But myself I do not praise, Every open, generous heart Spurns such mercenary ways. [A Woman enters. Here's a customer ! step in Prissy "Weedon — welcome here ; Shall I help you to some gin, Brandy, "half-and-half," or beer? LXXIII. PBISSY. Ah, good landlord ! words would fail To depict a case like mine ! My sad husband is in gaol, And I want to raise his fine. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 20D LXXIV. Here, poor soul i be gets his drink, To my grief, I truly say ! But of that no more I'll think — Only he our friend this day. LXXV. Here, last night, he " met a friend " — See ! ten shillings I have got ; If ten more you kindly lend, "We'll repay it, every groat. LXXVI. In His Name who rules above — By that Heaven we hope to see ! I implore you ! generous prove To my hungry babes and me. LXXYII. LANDLORD. I'll not pay your tippler's fine, Though it saved his life and yours; "What curst impudence is thine ; "Waiter ! show her out of doors. LXXVIII. TEETOTALER. Woman ! here's the sum you seek, "Which you're asked not to repay ; Nay, one word you must not speak, I'm aware of all you'd say. [ Woman departs. LXXIX. LANDLORD. After this, I'll not pretend That you have the worst of hearts; Tell me how you'd treat a friend, Just arrived from foreign parts ? p 21 (J LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. LXXX. TEETOTALER. With his dinner, and a bed, If my house had one to spare; Or a dollar in its stead, To procure him one elsewhere. LXXXI. With a coat — if his were bad- My best interest and advice ; But a dose to drive him mad, I should spurn at any price. LXXXII. LANDLORD. Very fine ! but then he might, Aye, and would — I'm bound to say, Miss the jovial spree that night — TEETOTALER. And the headache, too, next day LXXXIII. LANDLORD. Then the poets all were daft, From Anacreon to Pye ! Drew they not their warbling craft From our inspiration high? LXXXIV. TEETOTALLER. Don't believe it, silly friend ! Tale unworthy half a thought ! None, in drink, have ever penned What thev would not like to blot. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA 211 LXXXV. Pen a letter over-uight, AVhile the fumes of wine inspire — View it then by morning light, And 'twill quickly see the tire. LXXXVI. LANDLORD. Burns, your favourite, I believe, "Was no stranger to the spree ; What about the glorious eve " Rab and Allan came to pree." LXXXVIL TEETOTALER. Rab and Allan o'er their cheer, Were no doubt at midnight gay ; But a word Ave do not hear Of then - state in bed next day LXXXVIII. LANDLORD. What of Cowley, Chatterton, Mangan, Derinody, and Moore ; Bards divine, who everyone Quaffed the old elixir pure ? LXXXIX. TEETOTALER. "Wine brought Cowley to his end, Chatterton to suicide, Dermody lost every friend, Mangan in a workhouse died. XC. LANDLORD. Burns and Moore, with voice and pen, Drink have praised in deathless rhyme. p2 :12 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. TEETOTALER. Less the error of the men Than the error of then Time. XCI. Wine was their disgrace and shame; 111 could they its praises sing! Milton, far a greater name ! Had his beverage from the spring. XCII. Though all poets, priests, and kings Err, must we adopt their style ? Must we, as in leading strings, Live by imitation vile % XCIII. Nineteenth century — roll on ! Bacchus yet shall be subdued ! LANDLORD. Hush ! Old Gerald of " The Swan " Comes this way in peevish mood. XCIV. Five feet round, and four feet high, Hear his tramp, the gouty beast ! If the hunks would only die, Grubs and worms should have a feast. [ Gerald enters. XCV. Worthy brother of "The Swan," Welcome to our gay canteen; How has trade been getting on ? Where have you this century been? LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 213 XCYI. GERALD. I am always losing pots, "Which I here, perchance, may see ; Just advise your thieving sots How they interfere with me. XCVII. LANDLORD. By the fiend, you'll rue your fill If my tongue is once let loose 'Twill appear, I'll bet a gill, That the Swan will prove a Goose. XCVIII. Every crib in town I know, That from handy-folk receives ; Soon shall yours have sunk as low As the vilest den of thieves. XCIW GERALD. What about the night jon sent Eeuby on the streets to die, "When his fifteen pound was spent, And no star was in the sky ? C. LANDLORD. "What about your gambling shop? Sunday, Monday, all the same! Now your blasted tongue I'll stop, If vou are not lost to shame. 214 LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. CI. GERALD. Stop it, then, with " lialf-aud-half," And success may you attend. LANDLORD. Touch ! a flowing- bumper quaff, Gerald, to your health, my friend ! OIL Friends make dull existence sweet ! TEETOTALER. Yes ! what we true friends can call, 'Tis my hour to go and meet Hundreds such at Temperance Hall. cm. Where, of every stamp and creed, Rank and calling, sex and age, Friends are, in God's name, agreed, Mortal strife with Drink to wage. CIV. Where no weeper's tearful eye Chides us with a husband's fall ; Where no soldier breaks his thigh Jumping from a prison-wall. CV. Where no churl with artful tongue Friends, like toys, can sell and buy ; Where no wretch, by night, is flung — Robbed and poisoned — out to die. LAYS OF SOUTH AFRICA. 215 CVI. There we meet, determined all, To put down your poison cheer, Every foe to Alcohol Hail we as a brother dear. CVII. May each horn- increase the band, Drunkenness ! till your simoon blast Takes some dictionary stand With the curses of the past ! {Scene closes.) FINIS. Thus, Reader, once more, as in days that have been, When bays amaranthine were blooming and green, In the absence of warblers attendant on spring The Muses have lent their adorer a string. And brief are our stages of music and song From Nebo to Rephidim- — "forty years long." Nor let ns despair, if but able to count For a year in the desert— one day in the mount. Not Fate — do its worst — shall the minstrel bereave Of his hope, in this desert a footprint to leave ! On the billowing surge, it shall solace his woe, Should he sleep with the dolphin and coral below. Kind friends of his first — to a last closing strain, Not brooded, nor chaunted, nor echoed in vain, Nor conscious of sentiment, mean or untrue — His thanks here prospective is offered, — Adieu ! LONDON: PRINTED BY JOHN B. CURSONS 11. ST BRIDE STREET, CITY. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE 011 the last date stamped below. 50m-7,'69(N296s4) — C-120 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 380 067