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R. J. T. JEFFERSON.
29

ON THE KALAHARI.


All day the fiery-hearted sun,
With burning rays of heat intense,
Has scourged the desert, wild and dun;
Nor stretched one shade from shrub or stone,
Where weariness could lay him down,
To shun his fierce offence!


The furious god, with strength amain,
With flaming brand, with shaft of fire,
Still smites the panting desert plain,
Whose muscles, nerve, and sinew strain
To spurn his vigour back again,
With furnace-breathing ire!


While zephyrs, trembling in affright,
With'ring beneath the awful blast,
Scarce dare attempt a fevered flight,
But inly pray for wishéd night
To flood the fulgent scene of blight,
And close the battle fast!


The hunter here shall careful tread
Across the blinding desert sheen;
For here and there, in sandy bed,
There lurks the yellow cobra dread,
Or lifts his hooded, deadly head
With unexpected spleen.


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