Ramparts of slaughter and peril— Blazing, amazing, aglow"Twixt the sky-line's belting beryl And the wine-dark flats below. Royal the pageant closes, Lit by the last of the sunOpal and ash-of-roses, Cinnamon, umber, and dun. The twilight swallows the thicket, (Few, forgotten and lonely, Where the empty metals shine- We slip through the broken panel We stumble on refuse of rations, We hear the Hottentot herders. Voices of jackals calling And, loud in the hush between, A morsel of dry earth falling From the flanks of the scarred ravine. And the solemn firmament marches, Till we feel the far track humming, (Few, forgotten and lonely, Where the white car-windows shine— No, not combatants-only Details guarding the line.) Quick, ere the gift escape us! And the monstrous heaven rejoices, So we return to our places, As out on the bridge she rolls; And the darkness covers our faces, And the darkness re-enters our souls. More than a little lonely Where the lessening tail-lights shine. No-not combatants-only Details guarding the line! SOUTH AFRICA 1903 LIVED a woman wonderful, Christian gentlemen a few From Berwick unto Dover; Half her land was dead with drouth, And murrain on the cattle! True, ah true, and overtrue. Bitter hard her lovers toiled, Scandalous their payment,— Food forgot on trains derailed; Cattle-dung where fuel failed; Water where the mules had staled; And sackcloth for their raiment! So she filled their mouths with dust. And their bones with fever; Greeted them with cruel lies; Treated them despiteful-wise; Meted them calamities Till they vowed to leave her! They took ship and they took sail, They esteemed her favour more Bade farewell to breed and race Yea, and made their burial-place Altar of a Nation! Wherefore, being bought by blood, And by blood restored To the arms that nearly lost, On your feet, and let them know This is why we love her! THE BURIAL 1902 (C. J. Rhodes, buried in the Matoppos, April 10, 1902) WHEN that great Kings return to clay, Grief of a day shall fill a day, Because its creature died. Dreamer devout, by vision led Beyond our guess or reach, The travail of his spirit bred So huge the all-mastering thought that drove His faith before the crowd. It is his will that he look forth. The granite of the ancient North- |