Henry & Emily Bucher 
 
 Route # 1 
 
 Black Earth, Wise. 53515 
 
 j6il6/i 
 
 UA^ 
 
^ 
 
.A.F"I^ ICA^ 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 EY 
 
 Rev, Roberi" Hamill Nassau,. M.D, 
 
J^T^FllCJ^ 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 BY 
 
 Rev. Robert Hamill Nassau, M.D. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 ALLEN. LANE & SCOTT 
 
 PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS 
 1911 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These verses were written on the occasion of 
 an invitation to address the Literary Societies of 
 the Lawrenceville, N. J., Classical and Com- 
 mercial High School (now, the John C, Green 
 Foundation School) in March, 1872. 
 
 The present remarkable Movement toward 
 the Light, in the West Africa Mission, of which 
 my closing lines were almost prophetic, has in- 
 duced me to bring them out from their forty- 
 year seclusion. 
 
 R. H. Nassau. 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa. 
 April, 191 1. 
 
AFRICA. ^^^ 1/ 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The Hunter seeks each foreign land, 
 
 The wild beasts' rage to dare; 
 Returns, with full well-trophied hand, 
 
 From mountain, field, and lair. 
 
 The Man of Science roams the world 
 
 Of fiow'r and insect life; 
 Nor recks he, though his way be hurled 
 
 Through scenes with danger rife. 
 
 The Merchant sails the stormy sea. 
 
 Self-exiled but for gain, 
 And bears privation willingly, 
 
 Earth's treasures to obtain. 
 
 The Farmer, on the furrowed field, 
 
 Contented casts away. 
 Not doubting that the Harvest-yield 
 
 His Spring-time toil will pay. 
 
 These give their life, their time, their gold, 
 
 Hopeful e'en when deceived. 
 Loss warns with story truly told, 
 
 But never is believed. 
 
 (5) 
 
But, when one goes to heathen land, 
 And gives, in moral strife, 
 
 His toil to loose from Error's hand, 
 And save immortal life, 
 
 His task is called Utopian; 
 
 His zeal, fanatic fire; 
 His death, a useless waste; his hope, 
 
 A puerile desire. 
 
 (6) 
 
FIRST VIEW. 
 
 Geographical. 
 
 Lo! Africa, an ancient land, 
 Of forests rich ; of golden sand ; 
 Of wondrous tales of mystery- 
 Unwritten in pure History. 
 Long known in ages of the Past, 
 Unknown To-day, and locked up fast. 
 As if Hesperides were true. 
 Hiding its fruits from foreign view. 
 By gates of pestilence and fire 
 And jungles filled with monsters dire. 
 
 The Sahara. The broad Sahara stretches wide 
 
 On Northern coast from side to side; 
 Its arid wastes that lie between 
 Setting the rare oases' green. 
 And there in untamed freedom roam 
 
 Hyena, lion, fleet gazelle. 
 But human being makes no home 
 
 To break by love the dreary spell. 
 Save Tuareg, with his nature wild, 
 The Desert's scourge, a Desert-child. 
 
 South Africa. Far to the South, in Temp'rate zone, 
 Civilization's light has shown. 
 Now, where the Navigator's eye 
 
 First saw the Tabled Mountain's form 
 That gave a "good hope" to his heart 
 
 Seeking, through famine, war, and storm. 
 The path (to win his monarch's smile) 
 
 (7) 
 
Lakes. 
 
 To Eastern sea and Indian isle, 
 
 A better hope for future days 
 
 Rises, like incense, from the lays 
 
 Of faith and truth, devoutly sung 
 
 To cultured tune by savage tongue 
 
 Of Zulu, Kaffir, Hottentot, 
 
 And Boschmen tribes, whose former lot 
 
 (Some e'en have said) was sunk so low, 
 
 Of God's mere Name they did not know. 
 
 Rivers and Great Rivers pour the mighty flood 
 
 They drain from mountain, lake, and wood, 
 Coming from springs unseen, afar. 
 Of unexplored Interior. 
 The Nile, a solemn mystery. 
 
 As in the ages gone, 
 Flows in majestic loneliness 
 
 From Source as yet unknown. 
 That Source kings sought, past Egypt's soil, 
 
 Past Nubia, past Sennar. 
 And volumes writ, with various toil. 
 
 Of rumor near and far. 
 But, ever, like the pursuit vain, 
 A rainbow's promised gold to gain, 
 Whene'er they thought the end they'd won, 
 The endless river still flowed on. 
 But, now, perhaps, we dimly learn 
 Where lies the Nile's great fountain-urn, 
 Snow mountain streams that flow to make 
 The queenly *Nyanza's sea-like Lake. 
 
 Note. — * The Victoria Nyanza, of Capt. Speke. 
 (8) 
 
In sisterhood of Central Lakes 
 Pre-eminence the Nyanza takes. 
 And *Luta-Nzige, by her side, 
 A Consort- Prince in royal pride. 
 And, fTanganjaka, like a leech. 
 Winds southward far, as if to reach 
 Another outlet to the sea 
 
 (A project vain and vain endeavor) 
 Through Nyasa's stormy mountain-lake 
 
 And Zambesi's lordly river. 
 
 A lordly river 'tis, indeed, 
 
 Gath'ring its waters day by day 
 
 From mountain-side and fiow'ry mead. 
 And, in its path, in giant play. 
 
 The earth devours with open jaw 
 
 (An African Niagara) 
 
 The thund'ring Cataract that raves 
 
 In |Mosi-o-a-tunya's waves. 
 
 From the same central fountain-heads. 
 Whence the Zambesi eastward spreads, 
 In westward course and torrent flow, 
 The blood-dyed wave of red Kongo 
 Marks where the Slave-Trade holds a seat, 
 (Its kingdom once) its last retreat 
 On Western Coast. That ruddy stain, 
 Washed from the soil by tropic rain. 
 In solid stream with billowy sweep. 
 Tints many a sea-mile on the deep. 
 
 Note. — * The Albert Nyanza, of Sir Saml. Baker, 
 t The Sea of Ujiji, of Capt. Burton. 
 % The Victoria Falls, of Livingstone. 
 
 (9) 
 
:«!^'i!lii|R!ll!!lll!flill!:f:ffia!|ii!!5i!ill:i?i!is^^^ 
 
 Kt'm 
 '111 
 
 
 '"i!lilliil!liliii!llii!!l!li!l!!il|ll|!ai|iii 
 
Adown that stream glide Floating Isles, 
 Torn from the marshy banks away, 
 
 In living green and flow'ry smiles: 
 For ocean-gods a grand bouquet! 
 
 There, too, Gaboon, (an ivory mart) 
 With fervor stirs the Christian heart. 
 Its tide, once marred by Slavery's trail. 
 Is hallowed by the "*Elfe's" sail. 
 
 Where graceful fEyo's waters glide 
 
 To JMbade's bluff, it laves 
 §Bolondo's feathery Palms, beside 
 
 Benita's mission-graves. 
 
 The Niger in its current strong, 
 From mountain recess of the Kong, 
 Its yellow tide with surf-beat song 
 
 Pours from her Delta-ed lips. 
 And, like a siren, with her toils, 
 
 She calls in pestilential breath, 
 
 From lagoons redolent of death, 
 At whose palm-banks with their rich oils. 
 
 Each foreign vessel sips. 
 
 O 
 
 Mountains. E'en there, beneath that Torrid sky. 
 
 Some Mountains lift their heads so high 
 They reach the line of constant snow 
 On lofty lIKilima-njaro; 
 
 Note. — * A Mission Yacht. 
 
 t Native name of the Bonito river. 
 t Station of the Rev. George Paull. 
 § Miss Nassau's School. 
 II Of Dr. Krapf, of the Eastern Coast. 
 
 (11) 
 
And on the Peak of Teneriffe, 
 
 Whose rosy brow the clouds surround, 
 To give the raptured eye relief, 
 
 Lest intense beauty sight should wound. 
 (As, once, to classic maid's desire, 
 Olympian Zeus, revealed, was fire.) 
 And, on the Peak of Kamerun, 
 
 That fronts Fernando Po, 
 Majestic Pillars of the "Gate" 
 
 Brave *Hanno first passed through. 
 
 Islands. There Islands dot the low-lined coast, 
 
 Some bearing names that History boast. 
 
 And one, great Madagascar's isle. 
 
 Of Christian Martyrs was, erewhile. 
 
 The grave. But, hosts have promptly sprung 
 
 From that dear martyr blood. 
 And, where once idol rites were sung. 
 
 Are praises to our God. 
 
 Forests. O'er all that Equatorial land, 
 Abundant Nature's lib'ral hand 
 Has scattered, with amazing power, 
 A nameless wealth of Tree and Flower. 
 In forest aisles of giant trees 
 
 The sunbeam's fervid lance 
 Scarce penetrates. From walls of green 
 
 Its broken fragments glance. 
 A leafy wall of changing green; 
 
 As great variety 
 
 Note. — * Admiral of the Carthagenian Exploring Fleet. 
 (13) 
 
As in the Autumn tints are seen 
 
 Of our own forest tree. 
 And o'er this verdant robe there grasps 
 
 A drapery of vines. 
 It climbs, and twists, and trails, and clasps, 
 
 And 'round the mass entwines. 
 Within the shades, on rainbow wing, 
 
 The birds flit in and out. 
 Their notes discordant chorus ring 
 
 With antic monkeys' shout. 
 
 Unheaithfui- To vicw, the sccnc is beautiful, 
 
 And charms surpassingly; 
 But, Pestilence and Fear are there. 
 
 And Death lies treacherously. 
 Beneath those leaves an Asp can hide. 
 
 There's Poison in that flower. 
 There Python and the Boa glide; 
 And Leopards lurkingly abide 
 In recess dark by man's wayside; 
 
 There, the Gorilla's power. 
 And where the stilted Mangrove leaps 
 
 The margins of the streams, 
 The Fever-fiend in sun-light creeps, 
 
 Or stalks 'neath night's star-beams. 
 
 (14) 
 
SECOND VIEW. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 God's Earth is fair, 
 
 But Sin's dark roots 
 Have made it bear 
 
 Us bitter fruits. 
 Where Nature glows 
 
 Most rich and free 
 More darkly grows 
 
 Man's infamy. 
 
 O 
 
 Slave Trade. A Niobe, that country stands, 
 
 Her children sold to other lands. 
 And weeps the living death they die 
 In unrequited Slavery. 
 Weeps that the white man's stony heart 
 For dusky skins could find a mart; 
 Weeps her own greed of foreign pelf 
 That turned her sword against herself, 
 And, for the trinkets of a day, 
 Called to a chain her child from play. 
 
 O 
 
 Foreign Evils. Unchristian Commerce, a Pandora, 
 Lies at the mouth of ev'ry river, 
 And gifts seductive scatters far 
 That curse the given and the giver. 
 
 Intemperance, with fiery blast. 
 
 Like lava in its flow. 
 Melts with its touch the tribes that fast 
 
 Down to destruction go. 
 
 (IS) 
 
3 
 
 And foreign Vice of cultured air, 
 With native vice entwines. 
 
 Both worship pay, a shameless pair, 
 At Lust's unholy shrines. 
 
 O 
 
 Polygamy. A parasite, Polygamy, 
 
 Saps of its life the social tree. 
 
 Its roots remorseless eat away 
 
 What else would grow 'neath Love's mild 
 
 sway. 
 In ev'ry household act is seen 
 Reflections of its hideous mien. 
 A little girl you there shall see, 
 Scarce graduate of her mother's knee, 
 Bought by some aged reprobate. 
 Whose frown brings fear, his smileher hate. 
 Where Innocence secure should rest. 
 Or Love-birds build their downy nest, 
 Her rudely-wakened heart soon gives 
 Covert for birds of filthy lives. 
 Ere Childhood's years are passed away, 
 She's taken by that old man grey, 
 A new caprice, toy of a day, 
 To learn a life with bitter lives 
 Of household slaves mis-called his "wives." 
 The new-found fav'rite uses power 
 Despotic for her little hour; 
 (Her impudence her only wits; 
 On marriage-troth slight fealtyrsets) 
 Then sinks among the jealous crew. 
 With common cause 'gainst fav'rite new. 
 The slavery is still the same, 
 
 (16) 
 
For her it's only changed its name. 
 But change of name brings occupation 
 Consistent with her lower station. 
 If Wifehood brought no Motherhood, 
 "Drawer of water, hewer of wood" 
 Is thence her lot. And, in that round, 
 The lonely drudge's life is bound. 
 
 Thus: — Day by day, the food to cook 
 
 For ev'ry lazy guest 
 Her lord receives on Friendship's claim 
 
 Or Gluttony's request. 
 And, often, like proud Pharaoh's slaves, 
 
 Without the straw to make the brick. 
 Though garden fail and tempest raves, 
 
 Though back be sore, and heart be sick. 
 If children gather 'round her knee. 
 
 Their care is all her own, 
 And burdens of their infancy. 
 
 Until their strength be grown. 
 And then the father claims them all, 
 
 To please his selfish wish; 
 The girls, in woman's lot to fall; 
 
 The boys, to hunt and fish. 
 
 O 
 
 Superstition, How strong is Supcrstition's hand! 
 Binding the heart with iron band. 
 In life, in death: for There or Here, 
 Bidding men quail in craven fear! 
 
 1 
 
 Not Love constrains those heathen minds. 
 
 The mystery of the Soul 
 To them is hid; it only finds 
 
 Demoniac control. 
 
 (17) 
 
2 
 
 They see in ev'ry rock and tree 
 
 Not God, but demon sign. 
 The effort of their Hfe will be 
 
 To thwart the Power malign. 
 
 3 
 The Spirits live in Air and Earth, 
 
 In beasts, and bird, and fish ; 
 In rags, and shells of meanest worth. 
 
 And watch our ev'ry wish. 
 
 4 
 And, watching thus, perhaps may grant, 
 
 If fav'rably inclined; 
 Or, if the Spirit's chosen haunt 
 
 The devotee can find. 
 
 5 
 And, here steps in the Sorceror bold, 
 
 With claim of magic skill. 
 And rites, to common eyes untold, 
 
 A potent charm to fill. 
 
 6 
 
 That Fetish-charm, an amulet, 
 
 Hung on the door, or dress, or tree; 
 
 Or, planted where two ways are met. 
 Shall guard health, life, and property. 
 
 7 
 Such reverence for Amulets 
 An influence for evil sets 
 On ev'ry act, from birth to death, 
 And e'en beyond the dying breath. 
 
 (18) 
 
Witchcraft. Around the dying and the dead 
 
 A shadow dark and grim is spread, 
 And acts of horrid name and tone 
 At Witchcraft's stem behest are done. 
 
 1 
 
 The sick man died. Quick, from his hut, 
 
 The voice of waihng rose, 
 As if Joy's door fore'er was shut. 
 
 And Grief's could never close. 
 
 2 
 
 The fatal news, by forest path, 
 
 Flies swift, or by the ocean's strand. 
 
 Before the avenger's well-known wrath 
 The villages in terror stand. 
 
 3 
 "Who killed this man?" said Sorcery. 
 
 "Who took his life away? 
 Except for poison Witchery, 
 
 Sure he were here to-day!" 
 
 4 
 The Sorcerer and his chosen few, 
 
 In secret dark conclave. 
 The dead man's history review. 
 
 With freeman and with slave. 
 
 5 
 
 This one (they said) once, long ago, 
 Had cursed the dead man's mother. 
 
 That one in anger struck a blow. 
 Or said, "You're not my brother!" 
 
 (19) 
 
6 
 
 This woman never would obey, 
 
 Nor did the food prepare. 
 That enemy, crumbs stole away 
 
 And clippings of the hair. 
 
 7 
 On such as this amazing ground 
 
 One was condemned to die; 
 Was seized, and chained, and guilty found, 
 
 On charge of Witchery. 
 
 8 
 The crowd that stands about that slave 
 
 Is witness, judge, and jury. 
 She stands alone ; accusers rave 
 
 Around her in their fury. 
 
 9 
 The spear and club, thorns, fire, and knife 
 
 Compel her to confess. 
 Vain hope! to buy with perjured life 
 
 Relief from Torture's stress. 
 
 10 
 With false confession, self-condemned, 
 
 The witch is mocked in song. 
 While vengeful heart and brutal hand 
 
 Her agonies prolong. 
 
 11 
 Down to the margin of the sea 
 
 Her struggling form they drew; 
 With murderous haste and frantic glee, 
 
 Sprang in a large canoe. 
 
 (20) 
 
12 
 They paddled quick; a sharp knife gleams; 
 
 Her throat was o'er the side. 
 And, one by one, her mangled limbs 
 
 The reddened waves divide. 
 
 (21) 
 
THIRD VIEW. 
 Evangelistic. 
 From scenes and characters like these 
 Turn we to others that may please 
 
 The Christian heart; 
 And, of the good, for which you've prayed, 
 Recount some works in which I've played 
 An humble part. 
 
 Dotting that country's Western strand, 
 There Mission-Stations scattered stand, 
 Like beacon-lights to point the road 
 That leads the heathen up to God. 
 
 Teaching. Lo! where the Teacher's patient hand 
 Guides her informal School, 
 Unfolding to untutored band 
 The Book of heavenly rule. 
 2 
 Abroad, the light reflected glares ; 
 
 While insects' strident hum, 
 And voice of birds, and scented airs. 
 Through th' open window come. 
 3 
 A light breeze fans the feverish cheek, 
 
 And lifts the rustling page. 
 Pray that a breath of Life Divine 
 Those young hearts may engage! 
 4 
 Their eager eyes the letters scan. 
 
 For knowledge quick, intent ; 
 
 On pow'r that shall ennoble man, 
 
 Th' awakened mind is bent. 
 
 (22) 
 
5 
 
 Not like a sheet of clear blank white, 
 On which the willing pen may write ; 
 But, like a tablet foul, that mind 
 From Error first must be refined. 
 
 6 
 The entering Word its light can give 
 
 Those op'ning hearts into; 
 Break Vice's chain, bid Virtue live. 
 And Conscience bring to view. 
 
 O 
 
 Preaching. Qr, follow where the Preacher goes 
 To villages around, 
 With news of Peace, where 'mid their woes 
 Sin's captives sad lie bound. 
 
 2 
 
 He passes through the village street, 
 
 (The unused infants flee) 
 And in the *Ikenga takes a seat 
 
 Where all can hear and see. 
 
 3 
 He tells them he's a messenger, 
 
 And asks their quiet ear. 
 Awhile the wondrous News he tells, 
 
 The crowd press close to hear. 
 
 4 
 The speech is strange, and some one laughs. 
 
 Up starts a patriarch's hand. 
 On women, chickens, children, dogs, 
 
 Strict silence to command! 
 
 Note. — * The public Reception-room. 
 (23) 
 
5 
 Perhaps the Preacher lifts his voice 
 
 In cheerful hymn of praise ; 
 The native ear is musical, 
 
 And quick attention pays. 
 
 6 
 And, then, the Message is out-spread, 
 
 The Story old and true, 
 Befitting youth and hoary head. 
 
 And ever fresh and new, 
 
 7 
 How God exists, and made each star; 
 
 And us made pure and good; 
 That, though we've wandered sad and far, 
 
 His Love has near us stood, 
 
 8 
 And sent a Son, whose victor-strife 
 
 With Sin and Fear and Death, 
 Can save, and lead to better life 
 
 Beyond this mortal breath. 
 
 9 
 The seed is sown. No doubt some seeds, 
 
 Though buried long they lie, 
 And sadly choked with tare and weeds. 
 
 Shall bloom beyond the sky. 
 
 O 
 
 Itinerating. The Mission-boat is on the sea. 
 Its errand there may various be; 
 To transport food ; the Word to preach ; 
 The sick a healthier spot to reach; 
 A life to save; for letters, guests; 
 Or, sent on exploration's quests. 
 
 (24) 
 
1 
 
 Day's heat is past. The boat is launched. 
 
 The sun sinks toward the west. 
 Take in the oars! Put up the sail! 
 
 With good wind we are blest! 
 
 2 
 
 The night is clear. Stars mark our way; 
 
 Cassiopea's Chair, 
 Orion, Taurus, (no North star) 
 
 But the "Pointers" two are there. 
 
 3 
 The Utembani's fair east wind 
 
 The main-sail's sheet keeps taut; 
 And, while it lasts, the crew may find 
 
 Their sleep on box or thwart. 
 
 4 
 At last the night grew dark, 
 
 And strong the south wind blew, 
 The parted waves swept by our barque. 
 
 As up that wind we flew. 
 
 5 
 But, now, this tack we've run enough; 
 
 This long boom must come o'er. 
 " Ready! " "About! " " Belay there! " " Luff! " 
 
 Speed for the distant shore! 
 
 6 
 
 We're flying from the cruel sea; 
 
 But yonder breakers' roar 
 Speaks to our hearts more cruelly. 
 
 Tack out to sea once more! 
 
 (25) 
 
A time to try a heart though bold! 
 
 A precious freight is there! 
 Not self, nor crew, nor goods, nor gold. 
 
 A child and woman fair! 
 
 8 
 
 These waves are fearful, and the rain 
 
 Is pitiless and cold. 
 So, tack toward shore, we'll take down sail, 
 And waiting there shall ride the gale, 
 
 If anchor-chain will hold. 
 
 Perhaps, when standing in to shore. 
 We found a sheltered quiet bay; 
 
 And, landing, sought the hut's rude door 
 Above the cove's white sand that lay. 
 
 10 
 
 The missionary's name is known. 
 
 He's welcomed at the fire, 
 Where dripping clothes are hung to dry. 
 By food and bed unskilled hands try 
 To meet the confidence thus shown, 
 
 And hearty trust inspire. 
 
 11 
 
 When 'cross the sea the morn up-rolled, 
 
 The storm had passed away. 
 Th' assembled villagers were told 
 
 We could no longer stay, 
 
 (26) 
 
12 
 The Word is preached ; a prayer is made ; 
 
 New native friendships sought ; 
 Small gifts received, and debts repaid, 
 
 And fresh provisions bought. 
 
 13 
 Then, out again, the wave to try; 
 By sail to tack, or oar to ply. 
 With varying breeze swift miles to pass, 
 Or slow to creep a sea like glass. 
 
 14 
 Through all those sultry hours of day, 
 
 The captain, sea-sick, there would lie; 
 
 Or find from pain a slight surcease 
 
 By sleeping e'en 'neath noon-tide sky. 
 
 Seeking in troubled rest the ease 
 The storm-night's vigils took away. 
 
 15 
 That long day passed. Another night 
 
 Fell 'round us on the sea. 
 Here anchor. By to-morrow's noon. 
 
 We'll at our haven be. 
 
 A Communion 
 
 Sunday. fhis is the Church. On rough-made seat. 
 
 We'll claim awhile its cool retreat. 
 
 1 
 'Tis Sabbath-Day. Communion Week 
 
 Has brought, with bright and solemn hours, 
 The gath'ring companies who seek 
 
 The bamboo church's opened doors. 
 
 (27) 
 
2 
 A motley crowd has hither rolled, 
 
 To see the "Great Feast-day," 
 Of heathen, Christian, young and old, 
 
 Attired in best array. 
 
 3 
 Some come to show the brilliant tags 
 
 They've never worn before, 
 Reserved through months of dirt and rags, 
 
 And hid in secret store. 
 
 4 
 Some come to please the white man's eye. 
 
 Each great and special friend 
 Is hopeful that gifts by-and-by 
 
 The foreign hand will send. 
 
 5 
 Some come to see how others dress; 
 
 Or, travels to recount; 
 To hear new converts Christ confess 
 
 At Table or at Font. 
 
 The few look on that sacred scene 
 
 With reverence and love; 
 With knowledge what its symbols mean, 
 
 And hopes this earth above. 
 
 7 
 Around the Table they have come, 
 
 Once, wanderers in Sin. 
 While trav'ling toward the Father's Home, 
 
 This is their Wayside- Inn. 
 
 (28) 
 
FOURTH VIEW. 
 
 Trials. 
 
 Sickness. Disease was on the air last night. 
 To-day's sun struck with pow'r. 
 The Mission plans don't work aright. 
 Depression rules the hour. 
 
 2 
 Then Sickness enters at the door. 
 
 (Unasked, a hungry guest.) 
 He's entered often there before, 
 
 And life his sole request. 
 
 3 
 Beneath his fever touch the brain 
 
 Throbs wildly. From the heart. 
 Through bounding artery and vein, 
 
 The rapid pulses start. 
 
 4 
 The light step heavy grows as lead, 
 
 And weary drop the hands 
 That strive to fill, in weakness still, 
 
 Th' excited will's commands. 
 
 5 
 Alternate cold, alternate heat. 
 
 The poor weak body racks ; 
 While thought runs on, with pinion fleet, 
 
 O'er infinite long tracks. 
 
 6 
 The thoughts of home, of fear, of love. 
 
 Of work, of plan, of care. 
 The busy brain has strength above 
 
 The strength to do or dare. 
 
 (29; 
 
Death. Some, when the storm of Fever flew, 
 
 Qtiick as tornado blast, 
 Like reeds, low bowed, awhile it blew, 
 And rose when it was past. 
 
 2 
 But, some rise not. The pliant reed 
 
 Had borne blasts oft and well. 
 This blew too fierce. The bruised reed 
 
 Lay broken where it fell. 
 
 3 
 Tornado passed. Enough to know 
 
 That Visitor is gone ; 
 Nor dare to call him robber, though 
 
 He went not out alone! 
 
 4 
 Take up the little he has left. 
 
 It looks like kindred clay. 
 They say that this is Death. The dead 
 
 Must needs be put away. 
 
 5 
 It is not death. We do not die. 
 
 Dust does. So, tenderly, 
 We'll bear this precious dust to lie 
 
 Where others' grave-mounds be. 
 
 A Cemetery. 'Tis chosen well, that little yard 
 
 Of missionary graves. 
 Just near the house they liked on earth. 
 And by the ocean's waves. 
 
 (30) 
 
2 
 The forest trees are undisturbed 
 
 By axe or Art's curt style, 
 Save where a winding path pursues 
 
 Nature's own wooded aisle. 
 
 3 
 The vines may clamber unrestrained, 
 
 And light fall cheerily 
 O'er grass and bush, where birds untamed 
 
 Still twitter merrily. 
 
 4 
 But Art its added hand has set 
 
 (Not taken aught away) 
 Where Love has sought, on marble fair, 
 
 To save from Time's decay 
 Dear names whose lives and mem'ries rare 
 We can not willingly forget. 
 
 5 
 There Infancy was laid to rest. 
 
 And (^) Manhood in his strength. 
 And patient (^) Womanhood. How blest, 
 
 To reach their home at length! 
 
 6 
 
 On a mound where a beautiful (^) infant's 
 
 form sleeps, 
 Recumbent, a lamb fit companionship keeps, 
 With a name and with dates; but the stone's 
 
 mute lips tell 
 No tale save the legend that says, "It is 
 
 well." 
 
 Note. — (n Rev. S. Reutlinger. 
 
 (2) Mrs. Menaul. 
 
 (3) George Paull Nassau. 
 
 (32) 
 
Yet, though those lips so silent are, 
 Another's record's cherished there. 
 Whose vivid life-work there was found, 
 Whose grave is on Corisco's ground. 
 Mound, stone, and name, remind to all 
 Benita's pioneer, (^) George Paull. 
 
 There too, beneath the fervid sky, 
 
 Where sunbeams blaze by day; 
 Or, when the moon has mounted high, 
 
 Cool mystic shadows play; 
 Where stars so silently look down, 
 
 Through vistas of the night. 
 From Southern Cross and Southern Crown, 
 
 On marble cold and white, 
 The light of sun and moon and star 
 
 On tablet-sculptured Cross rests calm, 
 Benita's brave-borne cross of (^) her 
 
 Who wears Benita's Crown and Palm. 
 
 Note. — (1) Rev. George Paull. 
 
 (2) Mrs. Mary C. Nassau 
 
 (33) 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 1 
 
 Light for the Future! By river, o'er hill, 
 The promise of good each year shall fulfill, 
 "We stretch out the hand! " shall Africa sing, 
 Salvation to crave, and tribute to bring. 
 
 2 
 
 (^)" Spero meliora! " hear Commerce proclaim. 
 We "better things" trust through a Crucified 
 
 Name, 
 When nevermore purchased thy children 
 
 shall be. 
 And thy harvests respond to the toil of the 
 
 free. 
 
 3 
 
 Free! from the chains superstition has 
 
 bound! 
 Free! from the stains which thy Vices have 
 
 found! 
 Free! from the gmlt of the innocent blood! 
 Free! from the rags thou hast worshiped 
 
 as God! 
 
 4 
 
 Light for the Future! o'er mountain and dale! 
 Light for the Future! by forge and by rail! 
 Light for the Future! through Church and 
 
 through State! 
 Light for the Future! where ransomed ones 
 
 wait! 
 
 Note. — (1) Motto of the British-African Steam Navigation Co. 
 (34) 
 
L'ENVOI. 
 
 Night's lamps bum low. My task is writ. 
 
 There's ashes on the hearth. 
 Accept the song, and reckon it 
 
 Just at its slightest worth. 
 As guests of mine, some day retrace 
 
 The Ocean path I've come, 
 A stranger here. You'll find a place 
 
 In Africa, my home. 
 
 March 1872. 
 
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