And who is she? What does she there?
Alone beside by the lion’s lair!
Has she no woman’s fear?
She had—but all that fear is gone,
She stands upon that very stone,
Because she knows he’s near.
“Dark-skinned maiden, come away,
Tempt not thus the beast of prey,
Haste, haste, your life to save.”
“No, no,” the dark-skinned maiden cried,
“He tore my Ammap from my side,
And vengeance I will have!”
A white man stood behind a tree,
A double-barrelled gun had he,
And steady was his aim;
She knew not that his help was nigh,
But lightly poised the assegai,
When forth the lion came.
He sees her! With a single bound
He strove to reach the vantage ground,
But ere the rock he gained,
The dark-skinned maiden’s aim was true,
Downwards the fearful weapon flew,
And in his side remained!
He fell, and writhing in his pain,
Madly he strove, but strove in vain,
To rise upon his feet.
“Ah, ah,” the dark-skinned maiden cried,
“This day I was to be his bride,
He tore my Ammap from my side,
Ah, ah, revenge is sweet.”
Beneath that rock of granite stone,
On which the white man stands alone,
The lion writhes in pain.
The dark-skinned maid is at his side
She drew a dirk, her Ammap’s pride,
He never rose again.
Some months had rolled away, and then,
Within that very lion’s den,
Were found the bones of Griet;
And to this day, who ventures nigh
That granite rock, will hear the cry,
“Ah, ah, revenge is sweet!”
But visitors are very rare,
The native seldom ventures there,
He rather turns aside.
And why? Because he fears to meet
The wandering ghost of faithful Griet
With Ammap at her side.
S. A. M.
