Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Africa: Vol. XXIV. 1876–79.
The Lion-hunt
By Thomas Pringle (17891834)M
Call our friends to the field, for the lion is near:
Call Arend and Ekhard and Groepe to the spoor;
Call Muller and Coetzer and Lucas Van Vuur.
Call Slinger and Allie and Dikkop and Dugal;
And Gert, with the elephant-gun on his shoulder;
In a perilous pinch none is better or bolder.
And the hoofs of a heifer of fatherland’s breed;
But mount, my brave friends! if our rifles prove true,
We ’ll soon make the spoiler his ravages rue.
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.
By the wild-olive brake where the wolf has his den,
By mountain and forest, by fountain and vlei,
We have tracked him at length to the coverts of Kei.
Hark! that hoarse sullen sound like the deep thunder growling;
’T is his lair,—’t is his voice!—from your saddles alight,
For the bold skelm-beast is preparing for fight.
Let the Mullers and Rennie advance in the van;
Keep fast in a clump;—by the yell of yon hound,
The savage, I guess, will be out with a bound.
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 ’leaguer his path.
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!
Ha! under his paw see Bezuidenhout sprawls,—
Now Diederik! Christian! right in the brain
Plant each man his bullet:—hurra! he is slain!
(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.
(To the wise folks we ’ll send it who lecture on skulls):
He has shown a good pluck, too,—and, after we dine,
We ’ll drink to his dirge, boys, a flask of good wine.