A Treasury of South African Poetry and Verse/F. C. Slater
THE HOGSBACK PEAK.[1]
i.
O hoary monarch, rough and rude,
Rising above thy vassal hills,
Far from the music of the rills,
The very son of Solitude!
Far, far above the 'wildering ways
Where flow the chequered streams of life,
In discords harsh of stress and strife,
Or suave in song of peace and praise.
No verdure decks thy rocky head,
No flowers bloom around thy crest—
Thou'rt bare as the deserted nest
Of birds that o'er the seas have fled.
Only the golden buds of morn,
The roses of retreating eve,
And lily-mists serenely weave
Gay garlands round thy brows forlorn.
And when the weary world doth rest,
In shelt'ring night's secure embrace,
The moonbeams kiss thy mournful face,
The still stars sparkle round thy crest.
ii.
The breezes blithe of deep-voiced spring
Whisper within thine ear sweet tales
Of musing woods and laughing vales,
Where brooklets babble, wild birds sing;
But pale the pleasure they impart,
For lo, they sing of alien themes;
Spring's subtle tremors, magic dreams,
Ne'er come to gladden thy sad heart:
But barrenness for ever flings
Around thy brows her pallid shroud,
And silence holds thee like a cloud,
And thou art loneliest of things!
Like to a soul that doth possess
No kin in others, but each day
It wears itself in grief away
At its own utter loneliness!
iii.
Art thou not weary, full of woe,
Old sentinel, whose stony eyes
Have watched the sleepless centuries
Unhasting, silent come and go?
Thou seest still from year to year
The strange transitions of the earth,
Grave Autumn's prime, and Springtide's birth,
Repletive Summer, Winter bare;
And men and nations hast thou seen
Flourish awhile and have their day—
Like Spring's frail flow'rs they pass away,
And leave no trace of having been.
But thou remainest: changeless still,
Patient and peaceful, while above
The glad sky smiles on thee with love—
And thou art blest, O lonely hill!
IN THE MATOPPOS.
In lone Matoppos now he lies,
Can we forget?
Our leader, seer; his hills, his skies
Are near him yet!
Like to the Hebrew seer of old,
Who, within sight
Of promised Canaan, passed away
On Nebo's height—
So he: he only saw the dawn
Of promised day
Break o'er the hills of his lov'd land:
He might not stay
To see the splendour of that noon,
For which he wrought
Thro' the long, weary, waiting years
With anxious thought.
Strange to our purblind eyes the tools
Which, with due care,
The great Inventor takes to build
His Kingdom here.
He sought to further the strong sway
Of Britain's Isle,
But all unconsciously for God
He wrought the while.
In lone Matoppos now he lies,
Our leader, seer;
His hills, his woods, his streams, his skies
Are ever near!
IN A MAIZE FIELD.
Kaffir woman, her babe bound to her back, sings as she hoes:—
The sun's flail threshes the maize fields,
The heat-chaff[2] flickers and stings;
Song-less and still in the branches
The birds droop listless wings.
The sun lashes the maize fields;
O for a cooling breeze!
The birds are still in the branches,
The cattle are under the trees.
Up in the kraal on the hillside
Thy father drowsily lies,
Quaffing the honeyed qilika,[3]
Cursing the troublesome flies.
Thy father sleeps, while thy mother,
Beneath the sun's white blaze,
Toils from day-dawn to darkness,
Hoeing the shimmering maize.
Umfundisi[4] tells us that somewhere
There lies a region of Rest:
Shall we go seek for it, Nyana,[5]
This country of the Blest?
No maize fields there for hoeing,
No sun with scorching heat;
And they who seek shall find it,
And find it passing sweet.
"LALA, 'SANA LWAM!"
(KAFFIR LULLABY SONG.)
The hoeing of day is done,
The weary heat of the sun,
The wood is gathered, the water drawn,
And now we can rest
Till the coming of dawn;
Till the coming of dawn, my babe.
Lala, lala, 'mtwana wam;
Lala, 'sana lwam![6]
O soothing season of night!
Bringing a respite sweet
To aching hands and weary feet,
From the burden of toil
And the sting of the heat;
O soothing season of night!
Lala, lala, 'mtwana wam;
Lala, 'sana lwam!
Calm and fair is the night,
The moon shines over the hill,
Flooding with magical light
Forest and field and rill.
All is peaceful and still,
Save the hungry jackal's howl.
Calm and fair is the night,
The moon shines over the hill.
Lala, lala, 'mtwana wam;
Lala, 'sana lwam!
"'ZANI 'NKOMO."
Kaffir herd-boy sings:—
Bright blooms the sun on the grass-glad meadow,
Bright blooms the sun in the fern-fond rill;
Sun-rays dart thro' the dream-haunted woodland,
Sunbeams laugh on valley and hill.
'Zani 'nkomo,[7] whee-ou-whoo, come along my cattle;
Whee-ou-whoo, come to the green hillside;
Linger as ye list in cool, quiet grass-glades,
From white morn to wan eventide.
Deep in the dim woods I'll wander thro' the daytime,
Feasting on honey and juicy roots;
Happy as a hill-cloud I'll wander thro' the woodlands,
Feasting at will on wild-wood fruits.
'Zani 'nkomo, whee-ou-whoo, with my dog and gqudu,[8]
Swift thro' the woods will I chase the birds that fly;
Swift thro' the woods will I hunt the nimble 'mpunsi,[9]
All thro' the day till night draws nigh.
Slow sinks the sun on cloud-claspt hill-tops,
Still shadows creep from the nest of night;
Slow sinks the sun, and only on the hill-tops
Now may be seen the lilies of night.
'Zani 'nkomo, whee-ou-whoo, come along, my cattle;
Swift to ub'hlanti,[10] milking-time has come.
'Zani 'nkomo, whee-ou-whoo, come on, my cattle;
Come along, dear ones, come on home.
THE PALACE OF POESY.
Once on a blithe, blue morn in sun-lov'd Spring,
I laid me down beneath a whispering tree
Whereon the little birds did sweetly sing;
Hard by, a shade-fleck'd streamlet babbled free,
As its swift course it onward still did wing
To ming-le in the music of the sea.
The snowy cloudlets o'er the smiling deep
Of heaven serenely wandered to and fro,
As o'er the meadows stray a flock of sheep,
As thoughts that thro' the brain their shadows throw;
The young spring winds did thro' the forest creep,
Laden with sweet perfumes, and murmurs low.
These pleasant sounds and odours did combine
To lull my senses, and soft sleep did steal
My soul into her shadowy lands divine.
•••••••
I dream'd I stood upon a headland tall,
Beside the olden, many-voiced ocean:
The sun's glad rays were flashing over all,—
With suave puissance, and with rhythmic motion,
The billows lashed the adamantine wall
Of the rude, rocky shores; and from that Ocean
There rose a stately mountain dark and blue,
On whose far peak there shone a palace fair—
A wondrous sight! And as I gazed there flew
From the gemm'd porches of that palace rare
Some god or angel with a golden lyre,
And, sailing into the pellucid air,
He sang to me and set my soul on fire!—
"O dreamer, wouldst thou scale the summit where
Yon palace stands? If this be thy desire
"Thy task is great, for at thy feet there flows
The mighty Sea of Knowledge, thro' whose deep
Thy path shall lie,—for only he who knows
"May hope to climb yon silent dizzy steep
Of thought sublime, on whose far peak there glows
The palace where sweet Poesy doth keep
"Her daughters fair, the sweet-voiced Muses Nine."
And when the voice was still I strove to speak,
And faltering said: "O son of Song divine,
"Pray tell me how shall one so mean and weak
In knowledge, and with shallow thought like mine,
E'er climb those heights that palace lair to seek?"
Lo! as I spake a ghostly mist arose
And hid that fairy Vision from my sight;
Fled was the palace fair of flaming rose!
Faded that mountain steep, that ocean bright!
And ev'n as one bow'd down with nameless woes
I sighed and wept in sorrow infinite.
And as I wept swift changed was the scene,—
And far away amidst the ancient hills,
Begirt with shadowy forests dark and green,
I sat and listened to the tinkling rills
Which rippled softly thro' the gloom and sheen
Of the still woods—a sound that ever fills
The mind with peaceful thought—and lo! I heard
A voice serenely sweet, that bathed with light
Of hope renewed my languid life, and stirr'd
My inmost soul to visions pure and bright,—
A voice divine,—sweeter than song of bird,
Sweeter than the ringing of the foam-bell white
Upon the list'ning shore, or lone wind's sigh
Thro' echoing forests,—thus it spake to me:
"Fear not, O dreamer! not o'er mountains high
"Of thought sublime, nor yet thro' the deep sea
Of knowledge doth Poesy's Palace lie;
But in the plains of Life, where live and die
"Mankind, in joy and sorrow, smiles and tears,
In aspirations great, in longings vain,
In strife and sin, in gloomy doubts and fears;
"Yea, dreamer, down in life's great sombre plain
The Muses dwell, for song was truly made
To soothe life's sorrows and relieve its pain!
"Therefore be not cast down nor yet afraid,
For if in singing thou dost ever strive
To comfort fellow travellers thro' life's glade,
"To cheer them on, their failing hopes revive
With the glad tinkle of thy simple lays,
Thine efforts shall be blest; thy songs survive
"In some fond hearts. But ne'er let human praise
Be goal to which thine inmost hopes aspire;
Be as the brooklet that thro' lonely ways
"Unconscious pours its treasure: no desire
Of praise or glory prompts its generous will;
Let music of thy soul attune thy lyre,—
"For, only songs born of the authentic thrill
Of soul-pulsations truly reach the soul
Of man, and there strike answering chords."
LOVE VOWS.
I would I were a mailed knight,
A mailed knight and bold;
To battle for my lady bright,
And honour's crown of gold.
But tho' I forged thro' many a fight,
And conquered foes untold,—
My sweet, my dear, by heaven I swear
This solemn vow:
My love for you were not more true
Than now.
I would I were a bard of fame,
A bard with laurel crown'd;
With great acclaim, my lady's name
The world to sing around.
But tho' your praise in loving lays
I sing till earth resound,
My sweet, my dear, by heaven I swear
This solemn vow:
My love for you were not more true
Than now.
- ↑ Hogsback Peak is one of the highest points in the Amatola range of mountains.
- ↑ Heat-waves somewhat resembling chaff rising from a threshing-floor.
- ↑ Beer made from honey.
- ↑ Teacher or preacher.
- ↑ Son.
- ↑ Sleep, sleep, my child;
Sleep, my babe. - ↑ Come, cattle.
- ↑ Stick with knob.
- ↑ A species of antelope.
- ↑ Cattle enclosure.