“Stranger, we now are true comrades sworn;
Come pledge me thy hand while we quaff the horn.
Thou’rt an Englishman good, and thy heart is free,
And ’tis therefore I’ll tell my story to thee.
“A Heemraad of Camdebóo was my sire;
He had flocks and herds to his heart’s desire,
And bondmen and maidens to run at his call,
And seven stout sons to be heirs of all.
“When we had grown up to man’s estate,
Our father bid each of us choose a mate,
Of Fatherland blood, from the black taint free,
As became a Dutch burgher’s proud degree.
“My brothers they rode to the Bovenland,
And each came with a fair bride back in his hand;
But I brought the handsomest bride of them all—
Brown Dinah, the bondmaid who sat in our hall.
“My father’s displeasure was stern and still;
My brothers’ flamed forth like a fire on the hill;
And they said that my spirit was mean and base,
To lower myself to the servile race.
“I bade them rejoice in their herds and flocks,
And their pale-faced spouses with flaxen locks;
While I claimed for my share, as the youngest son,
Brown Dinah alone with my horse and gun.
“My father looked black as a thunder-cloud,
My brothers reviled me and railed aloud,
And their young wives laughed with disdainful pride,
While Dinah in terror clung close to my side.
“Her ebon eyelashes were moistened with tears,
As she shrank abashed from their venomous jeers:
But I bade her look up like a burgher’s wife—
Next day to be mine, if God granted life.
“At dawn brother Roelof came galloping home
From the pastures—his courser all covered with foam;
‘’Tis the Bushmen!’ he shouted; ‘haste friends to the spoor!
Bold Arend come help with your long-barrelled roer.’
“Far o’er Bruintjes-hoogtè we followed—in vain:
At length surly Roelof cried, ‘Slacken your rein;
We have quite lost the track’—Hans replied with a smile,
—Then my dark-boding spirit suspected their guile.