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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


SAVAGES (TO KHAMA, SEBELE AND BATHOEN) by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR

First Line: AS STAGS THAT O'ER SOME MOONLIT PASTURE RANGE
Last Line: MORTALITY SHALL DIE?
Subject(s): NATIVE AMERICANS; TRADE; WANDERING & WANDERERS; INDIANS OF AMERICA; AMERICAN INDIANS; INDIANS OF SOUTH AMERICA;

As stags that o'er some moonlit pasture range,
Obscurely they emerge upon our ken,
Those lithe fierce forms, pathetical and strange,
Those changeless savage men!

Sometimes it is the prairies' twilight brood
That, for a moment, doth affront our noon:
The stark Ghost-dancers rave for white men's blood,
Their bare feet drum in tune.

Sometimes, with unimagined faith possest,
The dark religious Mahdists rush in swarms
Upon an impious and intruding West,
Impregnable in arms.

Anon, the meek Kamáka steals in view,
And respite for a little space implores,
While drink, disease, and long debauch undo
His palm-embattled shores.

Again, with praying lips and patient eyes,
Some Aethiop tribe uplifts a sombre face,
And pleads articulate before it dies
For the great White Man's grace.

Commerce, the sluggish-footed Maenad, creeps
Through all their borders, laying stealthy hands
Upon the harvest of all virgin deeps,
The fruit of all lone lands!

She leaves a bleaching line of savage bones
Her royal road to mark and to define:
Cairns of their murdered kings are her milestones,
Kings of some perishing line.

Vainly these strove and cried, nor ever found
A breathing-space, a time to love and toil,
A strip of hunting-ground or burial-ground
No trader dared despoil!

Types of the ancestral races whence have sprung
The polished Aryans of the happier West,
Types of the Babe who hung when Time was young
Upon Earth's lonely breast,

Shall these belated elemental men
Still inarticulately strive and cry,
And find no rest until the day dawn when
Mortality shall die?



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