Had met the squall's fierce rage, and soon
Her -pride, her loveliness were gone.
On rock, on beach, on foaming tide

Her timbers were scattered far and wide.
The hearts that throbbed with life's glad bound

Are silent now, save one, a child ;
Whom when the passing fisher found,

He oped his little hand and smiled,
And lo ! in the tiny palm there lay
A gold cross, moist with salt sea-spray.
How true that men are pilgrims all
Upon this world's wild, restless sea.
The mast'ring Passions' sudden squall
Shatters the soul : secure is he

Who grasps the Cross, and through the strife

Thus grasping, ever findeth life.
M. J. MacMahon.
G. E. Bulger 171



Keiskamma.i

Where the gorgeous aloes grow,
There the hidden sources flow,
Cold and pure as molten snow,
Of the sweet Keiskamma.
Where the halcyon builds her nest
'Neath the fern-tree's nodding crest,
Kissed by breezes from the west,
Flows the sweet Keiskamma.
Where the Amatolas ^ stand,
Guardians grim of Kafifirland,
Gurgling o'er its silver sand.
Flows the bright Keiskamma.
Winding 'mid mimosa glens.
Rocky banks and reedy fens,
By the tiger's hidden dens.
Glides the pure Keiskamma,

Where the furious torrents dash
O'er the rocks with deafening crash,
Ever onward, wild and rash.
Rolls the bright Keiskamma.
' A river bordering Cape Colony and Kaffirland.
' Mountains where the Keiskamma rises.
172 G. E. Bulger



Where the willow branches bend,
And to earth their shadows lend,
Here its crystal waters wend —
Beautiful Keiskamma.
Through long valleys soft and green,
'Neath a cloudless heaven serene.
Glittering in its silver sheen,
Flows the clear Keiskamma.
Where the rugged rocks protrude.
And disturb its placid mood,
'Neath the shadowy yellow-wood,
Breaks the pure Keiskamma.
Where the river-horses splash.
