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 When the wild turmoil of this wearisome life, With its scenes of oppression, corruption, and strife, The proud man's frown, and the base man's fear, The scorner's laugh, and the sufferer's tear, And malice, and meanness, and falsehood, and folly, Dispose me to musing and dark melancholy; When my bosom is full, and my thoughts are high, And my soul is sick with the bondsman's sigh— Oh! then there is freedom, and joy, and pride, Afar in the desert alone to ride! There is rapture to vault on the champing steed, And to bound away with the eagle's speed, With the death-fraught firelock in my hand— The only law in the desert land.

Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side; Away, away from the dwellings of men, By the wild deer's haunt, by the buffalo's glen; By valleys remote where the oribi plays, Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hartebeeste graze; And the kudu and eland unhunted recline By the skirts of grey forests o'erhung with wild vine; Where the elephant browses at peace in his wood, And the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood; And the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will, In the fen where the wild ass is drinking his fill.

Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side; O'er the brown Karoo, where the bleating cry Of the springbok's fawn sounds plaintively; And the timorous quagga's shrill whistling neigh