"Lo, ye have built your city white
Where once a little fort was raised,
And where the lumbering zeekoe grazed
Your Noël carols ring to-night.
"And where a day's march could not span,
A little hour will set you down
In comfort in your Simon's Town,
Without a tear for beast or man.
"From here to yon far river's flow
Your Royal flag is floating free;
'Twas Cromwell's flag we met at sea,
When Tromp and Blake fought long ago.
"How far anon your way may bend,
The Book of Fate alone foretells;
Mayhap your steel-drawn parallels
Will bind these countries end to end.
"How far ye go in days to be,
I know not; but in days gone by,
Behold! the light in yon dark sky
Was kindled by our folk and me.
"Ye may forget! In this large day
What boots a little fort or kraal,
With teeming street and window'd wall,
And crowded wharves of Table Bay?
"But this I say, and this I know,
Whatever scribes may think or write,—
Behold, behind one man is Night,
And from one man the Tale must How."
