And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank; His bridle-reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank. Before him, like a blood-red flag, The bright flamingoes flew ; From morn till night he followed their flight, Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts, And the ocean rose to view. At night he heard the lion roar, And the hyæna scream, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, The forests, with their myriad tongues, Shouted of liberty; And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud, That he started in his sleep and smiled He did not feel the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day; For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away! THE GOOD PART, THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY HE dwells by Great Kenhawa's side, SH In valleys green and cool; And all her hope and all her pride Are in the village school. Her soul, like the transparent air And thus she walks among her girls She reads to them at eventide Of One who came to save, To cast the captive's chains aside And oft the blessed time foretells Their falling chains shall be. And following her beloved Lord, In decent poverty, She makes her life one sweet record And deed of charity. For she was rich, and gave up all Of those who waited in her hall, Long since beyond the Southern Sea Their outbound sails have sped, While she, in meek humility, Now earns her daily bread. It is their prayers, which never cease, That clothe her with such grace; Their blessing is the light of peace That shines upon her face. THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP IN N dark fens of the Dismal Swamp He saw the fire of the midnight camp, Where will-o'-the-wisps and glow-worms shine, In bulrush and in brake; Where waving mosses shroud the pine, And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine Is spotted like the snake; Where hardly a human foot could pass, On the quaking turf of the green morass A poor old slave, infirm and lame; Great scars deformed his face; On his forehead he bore the brand of shame, And the rags, that hid his mangled frame, Were the livery of disgrace. All things above were bright and fair, On him alone was the doom of pain, On him alone the curse of Cain Fell, like a flail on the garnered grain, And struck him to the earth! THE SLAVE SINGING AT L MIDNIGHT OUD he sang the psalm of David ! Sang of Israel's victory, Sang of Zion, bright and free. In that hour, when night is calmest, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, |