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MOUNT-mount for the hunting-with musket and spear!
Call our friends to the field-for the lion is near!
Call Arend2 and Ekhard and Groepe to the spoor ;3
Call Muller and Coetzer and Lucas Van Vuur.

Ride up Eildon-Cleugh, and blow loudly the bugle:
Call Slinger and Allie and Dikkop and Dugal;
And George with the elephant-gun on his shoulder—
In a perilous pinch none is better or bolder.

In the gorge of the glen lie the bones of my steed,
And the hoofs of a heifer of fatherland's5 breed:
But mount, my brave boys! if our rifles prove true,
We'll soon make the spoiler his ravages rue.

Ho! the Hottentot lads have discovered the track-
To his den in the desert we'll follow him back;
But tighten your girths, and look well to your flints,
For heavy and fresh are the villain's foot-prints.

Through the rough rocky kloof into grey Huntley-Glen,
Past the wild-olive clump where the wolf has his den,
By the black eagle's rock at the foot of the fell,"
We have tracked him at length to the buffalo's well.


Now mark yonder brake where the blood-hounds are howling ;
And hark that hoarse sound-like the deep thunder growling ;
'Tis his lair-'tis his voice!-from your saddles alight;
He's at bay in the brushwood, preparing for fight.

The circumstances described in this very spirited poem, came under the personal observation of the writer, Mr. Pringle, and may be read in detail in the 8th Chapter of his interesting "Narrative of a Residence in South Africa." 2 The names in this piece are-with the exception of "the Rennies," who were Scottish friends of the author-those of Mulatto farmers, and Hottentot and Dutch servants, residing in the neighbourhood.

3 Spoor-a Dutch word-track, the lion's track.

Gorge-the throat or narrow passage at the opening of a defile.

5 Fatherland-here means Scotland, which was the native country of the emigrants.

6 Kloof a Dutch word--a small valley, opening into a larger one.

7 Fell-perhaps derived from fall,-a declivity or ridge of mountains.

Leave the horses behind-and be still every man:
Let the Mullers and Rennies advance in the van:
Keep fast in your ranks ;-by the yell of yon hound,
The savage, I guess, will be out with a bound.

He comes! the tall jungle before him loud crashing,
His mane bristled fiercely, his fiery eyes flashing;
With a roar of disdain, he leaps forth in his wrath,
To challenge the foe that dare 'leaguer1 his path.

He couches-aye now we'll see mischief, I dread :
Quick--level your rifles-and aim at his head :
Thrust forward the spears, and unsheath every knife-
St. George! he's upon us! Now, fire, lads, for life!
He's wounded-but yet he'll draw blood ere he falls-
Ha! under his paw see Bezuidenhout sprawls-
Now Diederik ! Christian! right in the brain
Plant each man his bullet-HURRA! he is slain!

Bezuidenhout-up man!-'tis only a scratch—

(You were always a scamp, and have met with your match!)
What a glorious lion!—what sinews-what claws-
And seven-feet-ten from the rump to the jaws!

His hide, with the paws and the bones of his skull,
And the spoils of the leopard and buffalo bull,
We'll send to Sir Walter !2-Now, boys, let us dine,
And talk of our deeds o'er a flask of old wine.



DEEP solitude I sought. There was a dell
Where woven shades shut out the eye of day,
While, towering near, the rugged mountains made,
Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky. Thither I went,
And bade my spirit taste that lonely3 fount,
For which it long had thirsted, 'mid the strife
And fever of the world.-I thought to be

1 Leaguer-for beleaguer-to besiege, beset.

2 Sir Walter Scott, a friend of the author.

3 Lonely-synonymous with alone-feeling alone, habitually without com

pany; alone-by itself, actually without company.

Hence we may speak of a "lonely fount," and of "being alone."

There without witness. But the violet's eye1

Looked up to greet me, the fresh wild-rose smiled,
And the young pendent vine-flower kissed my cheek.
There were glad voices too. The garrulous brook,
Untiring, to the patient pebbles told

Its history.-Up came the singing breeze,
And the broad leaves of the tall poplar spake
Responsive, every one. Even busy life

Woke in that dell. The dexterous spider threw,
From spray to spray, the silver tissued snare ;
The thrifty ant, whose curving pincers pierced
The rifled grain, toiled toward her citadel;2
To her sweet hive went forth the loaded bee;
While, from her wind-rocked nest, the mother bird
Sang to her nurslings.

Yet I strangely thought
To be alone and silent in thy realm,

Spirit of light and love!-It might not be !—

There is no solitude in thy domains,

Save what man makes, when in his selfish breast
He locks his joy, and shuts out others' grief.
Thou has not left thyself in this wide world
Without a witness. Even the desert place

Speaketh thy name. The simple flowers and stream
Are social and benevolent, and he

Who holdeth converse in their language pure,
Roaming among them at the cool of day,
Shall find, like him who Eden's garden drest,
His Maker there, to teach the listening3 heart.

Mrs. Sigourney.


Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;

The personification of the different inanimate objects is very delicately and gracefully managed.

2 Citadel-An ingenious application of the term to the ant-hill, as being the insect's place of refuge, or stronghold.

3 Listening-synonymous with hearing-endeavouring or being disposed to hear; hearing-simply catching a sound, whether voluntarily or not.

Hence we may listen without hearing, and hear without listening-but we never listen without giving attention. The "listening heart" is disposed to hear the voice of God speaking from the midst of his works.

The scene is touching, and the heart is stone
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.'
The wall on which we tried our graving skill,
The very name we carved subsisting still;
The bench on which we sat while deep employed,
Though mangled, hacked, and hewed, not yet destroyed;
The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot,
Playing our games, and on the very spot;
As happy as we once, to kneel and draw
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw;
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,
Or drive it devious3 with a dexterous pat;
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain
Our innocent, sweet, simple years again.
This fond attachment to the well-known place,
Whence first we started into life's long race,
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway
We feel it even in age, and at our latest day.



THE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire;5

1 The inversion of the style occasions some obscurity in this passage. The meaning is that the heart that feels not at that sight, is stone, and feels, or can feel, at no sight whatever.

2 Grave, carev, hack, hew, all different modes of cutting, may be thus distinguished.

To grave is to cut into, or hollow out, with a view to execute some design. Carve. or about..


for the purpose of deforming.

Hew........ down or off.. Hence we may correctly say that the names were "graven" or "carved," and the bench "hacked" or notched and "hewed," or deprived, by cutting, of some portion. 3 Devious, from Latin de and via, from or out of the way; here, on one side, not straight forward. Pope wittily says of some one that he "never deviated into right."

The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, renowned for his exploits against the no less famous French hero Roland, as well as against the Moors in Spain, lived in the reign of Alonzo II. king of Leon.

5 Sire-the count of Saldana, Bernardo's father, who had been imprisoned by the king for many years.

"I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-oh, break my father's chain!"


Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day;

Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his


Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed,2
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's2 foamy speed.
And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering

With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land; "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he,— The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see."

His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's blood came and went;

He reach'd that grey haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent;

A lowly knee to earth he bent,-his father's hand he took,-
What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropped from his like lead,

He looked up to the face above-the face was of the dead!

A plume waved o'er the noble brow-that brow was fixed and white;

He met at last his father's eyes-but in them was no sight!

Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed, but who could paint that gaze?

They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze; They might have chained him, as before that stony form he


For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.

1 Fortress keys-Bernardo, after many ineffectual efforts to procure his father's release, had taken up arms in despair, but at length assented to the king's proposal to give up the person of his father in exchange for the castle of Carpio.

2 Steed, charger-a steed is a horse for the stud, of fine shape and high mettle; a charger, a heavy war-horse, used for bearing down upon, or charging the enemy in battle.

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