Page 15 of EBB's manuscript of "The African."
Accession #: EBB MSS, D0015.1
Transcription:
And muse on vengeance which should last!
And oft across the scowling brow
As torturing in thought his foe
A with’ring smile of hatred passed –
As the quick light’ning dashes
From the black mist that bound it,
So that bitter smile flashed
From the dread darkness round it.
Thus fled his savage days, but when
The pale round moon shines mildly thro’
The wat’ry cloud, or midst the blue
Of Heaven beguiles the still night, then
His wildly glaring torches light
The clubs unfailing strength is tried
Then buckled strongly to his side,
And in the silence of the night
He hurries forth – oh is’t to greet
The young moon in her kindred sky
Or is’t to seek some turf, where feet
Of man, ne’er trod, apart to lie
From human cares, & human woe
In gentle sleep, – but oh no, no
Still, still his glimmering torch I see
Its long flame driv’n by the wind,
Now darkened by the sombre tree
And now its bright blaze unconfined.
The wood is past – he seeks a vale
Where rising to the azure skies
The plantain trees majestic rise,
Waved gently by the murmuring gale.