Where " Blouberg" and his burghers rode,
A hundred years ago,
The eland and the buffalo
To and fro, serene and slow,
About the pastures strode —
" Making hay while it was day"
And, in the star-shot nights,
The leopard and the lion prowled,
Snarled and hissed, or coughed and growled,
Hyenas laughed and jackals howled;
And there were furry fights,
Fierce tooth-and-claw delights,
Where " Blouberg" and his burghers rode
A hundred years ago.

Forests of grey soaring stone,
Where human creatures laugh or groan,
Trees of granite trunk and bough
Rise in that region now:
No wild beasts stalk, but hard men walk,
Who suck the golden blood
Of earth from rock and mud.
On moonless nights a million lights
Challenge the starry heights:
And there are ruthless fights,
But now no more of tooth and claw,
A deadlier jungle law
Prevails than wild beasts used to know
A hundred years ago.