African Items: 'Memories of urgent times''

By Perceval Gibbon

Perceval Gibbon was born on the 4th November 1879 in Trelech, Carmarthenshire in Wales and, unusually, was partly educated at the Moravian School, in Koenigsfeld, Baden, Germany.

Gibbon’s early career was as a merchant seaman during which he travelled to Europe, Africa, and the Americas. These early experiences were later reflected in his literary works.

He is perhaps best known for his 1912 novel ‘Margaret Harding’ but began his literary career as a poet with ‘African Items’ in 1903 followed quickly by two novels and then the first collection of his short stories in 1905: ‘Vrouw Grobelaar's Leading Cases’. His short stories were much admired, and many contained cutting and ironic endings.

As a journalist he wrote for several newspapers including for the Rand Daily Mail and in the closing stages of the Boer War he wrote for the Natal Witness.

As the First World War began its titanic struggle across Europe Gibbon joined British Intelligence and was also a war correspondent with the Italian Army from 1917-1918.

By the end of the War he had advanced to the rank of Major in the British Royal Marines.

Perceval Gibbon died on the 30th May 1926.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Portable Poetry
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839679261

Book preview

African Items by Perceval Gibbon

A Volume of Verse

Perceval Gibbon was born on the 4th November 1879 in Trelech, Carmarthenshire in Wales and, unusually, was partly educated at the Moravian School, in Koenigsfeld, Baden, Germany.

Gibbon’s early career was as a merchant seaman during which he travelled to Europe, Africa, and the Americas.  These early experiences were later reflected in his literary works.

He is perhaps best known for his 1912 novel ‘Margaret Harding’ but began his literary career as a poet with ‘African Items’ in 1903 followed quickly by two novels and then the first collection of his short stories in 1905: ‘Vrouw Grobelaar's Leading Cases’.  His short stories were much admired, and many contained cutting and ironic endings.

As a journalist he wrote for several newspapers including for the Rand Daily Mail and in the closing stages of the Boer War he wrote for the Natal Witness.

As the First World War began its titanic struggle across Europe Gibbon joined British Intelligence and was also a war correspondent with the Italian Army from 1917-1918.

By the end of the War he had advanced to the rank of Major in the British Royal Marines.

Perceval Gibbon died on the 30th May 1926.

Index of Contents

ULTIMA THULE 

HOME THOUGHTS FROM AFRICA

MOOIMEISJES

AN ANSWER 

THE DEAD MAN 

TO A BOER LEADER 

CONVALESCENCE

KOMANI 

KOODOO OUTSPAN 

JIM 

BLUE PETER 

ON THE HILLTOP 

BUSHMAN PAINTINGS 

TABLE MOUNTAIN

JAN VAN RIEBECK

SEA-FARERS

THE VELDT 

VOICES OF THE VELDT 

LITTLE THINGS 

THE VOORLOOPERS 

THE HOBNAILED TROUBADOUR 

THE NUN

THE EXILES

THE HARPER

MIMOSA 

A PERSONAL NOTE 

A MEETING 

EVENING 

BROWNING, (EX-AFRICA)

LAURELS

WHAT NEED?

HOMEWARD BOUND 

DEDICATION

Dear Madonna, this to thee,

This my little hook of rhymes,

Memories of urgent times,

Let me offer gratefully.

First-born of my fantasy,

A little thing, hut still mine own.

Low of voice, of timid tone,

A child of my captivity.

Lady, judge it tenderly;

‘Tis a palmer’s offering,

‘Tis a sacrifice I bring

Thus to my divinity.

South Africa,

May, 1903.

ULTIMA THULE

Over the rolling ocean's rim,

Away below the line,

Where fathoms deep the ghoul-fish swim, 

And the tiger-shark, gray, gaunt and grim.

Basks with his pilots nine,

We know of an island, you and I,

A gossamer cloud in a summer sky,

Where the dreams of faery do not die,

And the isle is yours and mine.

Girt with a strip of silver sand.

And a filigree fringe of brine,

Is a land where the virgin lilies stand,

A choir of vestals, hand in hand.

Knee-deep in jessamine;

Where the roses riot o'er pastures broad.

And the ferns foregather on shaded sward.

Where the kingly bee and the butterfly lord

Sit throned on the fragrant vine.

Do you forget the dainty craft

Wherein we sought that utmost isle?

Trimmest of clippers, fore and aft,

For wave to cradle or wind to waft

O'er many a shining mile;

When the day was bright and the breeze was light,

When the squalls came out of the sky at night,

When we drove like a gull through moonshine white,

Or a hawk o'er the hooded Nile.

Do