Page 14 of EBB's manuscript of "The African."
Accession #: EBB MSS, D0015.1
Transcription:
The pure drops from that large black eye
Pace down the sad cold cheek, she knows not why.
But where’s the unrelenting Chief
Who rent that heart with agony –
Who deadened eyes like those with grief
And snapt her joys. . . oh where is he?
He’s gone – but the herald trump of fame
Tell’s Orenzebe’s name
He’s gone, but the sombre forests yet
Rustle to his echoing feet.
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Yes, time had passed, & years gone by
Nor quenched the light’ning of his eye –
No longer grief, severe despair
Raged in his breast, but vengeance settled there!
No more the liquid tear descended,
Top mark the bitterness of woe,
His stubborn brow no more unbended –
As marble was his stern form now –
No more the deep low sigh he drew,
As if that heart were marble too!
And years passed on – & still reclining
On turf amidst the forest maze
Far from the Heav’ns bright orbit shining
He loved to count th’ unchanging days,