Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/182

 Thus I am Lord of the desert Land,
 * And I will not leave my bounds,

To crouch beneath the Christian's hand,
 * And kennel with his hounds:

To be a hound and watch the flocks,
 * For the cruel white man's gain—

No! the brown serpent of the rocks
 * His den doth yet retain;

And none who there his stings provoke
 * Shall find his poison vain.

Thomas Pringle.