THE ORANGE RIVER. 
37 
pardon the infliction, I will, instead of attempting any 
further description of them in prose, record the verses 
which their wonders inspired 
“THE HUNDRED FALLS.” 
We leave the arid waste, and sea of grass. 
Where lurk the dangers of the desert sand. 
And, climbing mammoth rocks as smooth as glass, 
Behold a scene surpassing fairy-land! 
We hear the murmur of the rippling rills 
Combining with the voices, sweet and long, 
Of bright-winged warblers, whose rich music fills 
The air with song. 
Bright is the picture to the eye revealed 
Of waving meadow, and of shady glen : 
The land of paradise seems here concealed 
By careless nature from the gaze of men. 
Led by contending waters’ angry sound, 
We reach the jagged cliffs, and towering walls 
Beneath which tumble, boom, crash, downward bound 
The Hundred Falls. 
Transfixed we stand, enraptured with the sight, 
Upon the massive walls of silver grey. 
Above the mighty waters foaming white, 
With mirrored rainbows circling in the spray : 
The torrent through its granite channel sweeps. 
Impeded by grim rocks on either shore. 
As o’er the precipice it madly leaps 
With sullen roar. 
Scores of snow-white cataracts swiftly gush 
From lofty crags, majestic, cold, and bare. 
Then headlong down the deep, dark chasm rush. 
And quiver flashing in the startled air ; 
Glittering in the mist, the tempest blew 
The silver spray to the abyss below, 
Like liquid diamonds scintillating through 
A cloud of snow. 
More dreadful than the powder’s bursting blast, 
Than cannon roaring o’er the battle plain, 
Louder than thunderbolts from heaven cast. 
Or warlike engines heard across the main, 
Wilder than the waves of a maddened sea, 
Or earthquake, that bewilders and appals, 
Were, roaring, writhing, fighting to be free, 
One Hundred Falls. 
