[The following poems, with one exception, were written at sea, in the latter part of October, 1842. I had not then heard of Dr. Channing's death. Since that event the poem addressed to him is no longer appropriate. I have decided, however, to let it remain as it was written, in testimony of my admiration for a great and good man.] Beneath the palm-trees on the plain 10 He saw once more his dark - eyed queen Among her children stand; THE GOOD PART THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY SHE dwells by Great Kenhawa's side, They clasped his neck, they kissed his Her soul, like the transparent air At night he heard the lion roar, And the hyena scream, 30 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 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, She makes her life one sweet record And the river-horse, as he crushed the For she was rich, and gave up all He did not feel the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day; To break the iron bands Of those who waited in her hall, And labored in her lands. Long since beyond the Southern Sea It is their prayers, which never cease, That clothe her with such grace; Their blessing is the light of peace That shines upon her face. THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP For Death had illumined the Land of IN dark fens of the Dismal Swamp Sleep, And his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away! The hunted Negro lay: He saw the fire of the midnight camp, And heard at times a horse's tramp And a bloodhound's distant bay. |