O

THE SLAVE'S DREAM

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Before him, like a blood-red flag,

The bright flamingoes flew;

From morn till night he followed their flight O'er plains where the tamarind grew,

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

Beside some hidden stream;

And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, Through the triumph of his dreams.

The forests, with their myriad tongues,

Shouted of liberty;

And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,

With a voice so wild and free,

That he started in his sleep and smiled

At their tempestuous glee.

He did not feel the driver's whip,

Nor the burning heat of day;

For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, And his lifeless body lay

A worn-out fetter, that the soul

Had broken and thrown away!

ง

THE GOOD PART.

THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY.

SHE dwells by Great Kennawa's side,
In valleys green and cool;
And all her hope and all her pride

Are in the village school.

Her soul, like the transparent air That robes the hills above, Though not of earth, encircles there

All things with arms of love.

And thus she walks among her girls

With praise and mild rebukes! Subduing e'en rude village churls By her angelic looks.

She reads to them at eventide
Of One who came to save ;
To cast the captive's chains aside,
And liberate the slave.

And oft the blessed time foretells
When all men shall be free;

And musical, as silver bells,

Their falling chains shall be.

And following her beloved Lord,

In decent poverty,

She makes her life one sweet record

And deed of charity.

THE COOD PART.

For she was rich, and gave up all

To break the iron bands

Of those who waited in her hall,
And labored in her lands.

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 ceas
That clothe her with such grace;
Their blessing is the light of peace
That shines upon her face.

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