Chapter CCXIII: The Desolate Valley

Far up among the forest-belted mountains,
Where Winterberg, stern giant old and grey,
Looks down the subject dells, whose gleaming fountains
To wizard Kat their virgin tribute pay,
A valley opens to the noontide ray,
With green savannahs shelving to the brim
Of the swift river, sweeping on its way
To where Umtóka tries to meet with him,
Like a blue serpent gliding through the acacias dim.

There, couched at night in hunter’s wattled shieling,
How wildly-beautiful it was to hear
The elephant his shrill _reveillé_ pealing,
Like some far signal-trumpet on the ear!
While the broad midnight moon was shining clear,
How fearful to look forth upon the woods,
And see those stately forest-kings appear,
Emerging from their shadowy solitudes--
As if that trump had woke Earth’s old gigantic broods!

Look round that vale! behold the unburied bones
Of Ghona’s children withering in the blast!
The sobbing wind, that through the forest moans,
Whispers--‘The spirit hath for ever passed!’
Thus, in the vale of desolation vast,
In moral death dark Afric’s myriads lie;
But the appointed day shall dawn at last,
When, breathed on by a spirit from on high,
The dry bones shall awake, and shout--
‘Our God is nigh!’

_Thomas Pringle._

COURTHOPE

CCXIV

ENGLAND IN SOUTH AFRICA

(1899)

Across the streaming flood, the deep ravine,
Through hurricanes of shot, through hells of fire,
To rocks where myriad marksmen lurk unseen,
The steadfast legions mount, mount always higher.

Earth and her elements protect the foe:
His are the covered trench, the ambushed hill,
The treacherous pit, the sudden secret blow,
The swift retreat--but ours the conquering will.

Against that will in vain the fatal lead,
Vain is the stubborn heart, brute cunning vain:
Strong in the triumphs of thy dauntless dead,
Advance, Imperial Race, advance and reign!

_William John Courthope._

HENLEY

CCXV

FOR A GRAVE IN SOUTH AFRICA

We cheered you forth--brilliant and kind and brave,
Under your country’s triumphing flag you fell;
It floats, true heart, over no dearer grave.
Brave and brilliant and kind, hail and farewell!

_William Ernest Henley._

HALL

CCXVI

ON LEAVING TABLE BAY

Sun-showered land! largess of golden light
Is thine; and well-befitting since the night
Of England voiced again
Canute’s command; ah, not in vain!
Backward the tides of savagery drew;
And still the bright sands gain
On the retreating main:
A lost world leaping to the light and blue.

In state the mountains greet an eve so fair,
And sunset-crowns and robes of purple wear:
A sea of glass the ocean, gold-inwrought--
Pathway apocalyptic. From the prow
A long bright ripple to the land is roll’d....
Haste thee and tell, tell of our love, with lips of gold,
In soft sea-music tell!
And thou, sweet bird, whose snowy wings have caught
The universal glory, carry thou
To that dear shore farewell--our hearts’ farewell!

_Arthur Vine Hall._

COOK

CCXVII

THE RELIEF OF MAFEKING

‘Well done!’ The cry goes ringing round the world,
O’er land and sea, wherever pulse throbs fast
At tales of courage, for relief at last
Is theirs and ours: so dawn’s bright flag unfurled
Hath challenge to the powers of darkness hurled,
And made one glory of the empyrean vast;
And when this day to history’s tome is passed
Its name shall stand on golden page impearled.

O God! our Help, our Hope, our Refuge strong
In days of trouble, still be Thou our Guide;
So shall we pass the coming days along
In certain trust whatever may betide,
And on Thine Empire shine the glorious sun
Till at last Thou say to her ‘Well done!’

_Hilda Mary Agnes Cook._

RUSSELL