Page 10 of EBB's manuscript of "The African."
Accession #: EBB MSS, D0015.1
Transcription:
Still thy soul His anger braveth
Still unatoned thy failings lie
Thou know’st not yet the Lord who saveth
Who only makes it sweet to die!
Thou know’st Him not – thy days have flown
To that eternal One unknown,
Oh trust in Him, & He will save
For He is love, and will bestow
A solace for the peircing woe
And bless thy peaceful grave!
On earth was Affa’s sad form cast –
While o’er her brow the cold night blast
In pitying sorrow sighed,
But where was he, her cause of grief –
That rude, austere, disdainful Chief
The man of suffering and of pride.?
He saw her not – he marked not now
The cold cold cheek – the throbbing brow
The quivering lip the half closed eye
Which seen beneath the long dark lashes
With vacant stare of apathy
And meanless motion flashes! –
His thoughts were far. . . his soul was riven
Seared – blighted – torn from earth & Heaven –
And if he marked, twas but to smile
Disdainful on her bursting woe
And turning – inwardly revile
Her woman’s heart that prized so low