Let Gain go hang, let Bung be blowed,
Bechuana,
Rather than drunkenness corrode,
Bechuana,
The realm whereby Molopo flowed.
To Khama Britons much have owed,
Bechuana;
The boon you crave should be bestowed,
Bechuana.
A RIVERSIDE RONDEL.
Afloat the water-lily lies,
Lolling gold head on soft green coat,
The swans drift by in stately wise
Afloat.
Faint music from the warbler's throat,
The moorhen in the sedge that plies,
The plash of oars, a distant boat,
The passing flash of dragon-flies—
Such sights and sounds I dimly note,
The while I watch with straining eyes
A float!
Modern Instance of Patience on a Monument.—The Powers sitting on the Ottoman.
