Classic Poem

Strange man, of frame athletic,
Who oft, by Gambia's stream,
Hast seen the golden Fetish
With wondrous lustre gleam, —

Who oft, beneath the equator,
Hast pierced the panther's heart,
And at the alligator
Shot off the poisoned dart; —

There, where on palace-portal
Bleached skulls — strange sight to see! —
Are ranged, dark fellow-mortal!
There would I have thee be!

Where yellow gum is streaming
Down from the bursting trees,
My spirit, fondly dreaming,
Thy dusky image sees, —

A watchman and a warder there,
Bedecked with pearls and gold,
To guard the treasures, rich and rare,
The sunny South enfolds.

There would I gladly see thee chase
The unicorn's wild flight;
But ever strange to me thy face
On this cold, Northern bight.

What dost thou here, on ice, I say,
To scorn our snows and sleets,
Son of the tropic's burning ray,
And equatorial heats, —

Thou, that upon the steed's bare back,
Naked, wast wont to spring,
And o'er the flying Caffre's neck
The forked slip-yoke fling?

Amidst this motley throng
Thou towerest on my view,
Gliding, with fur-clad arms, along,
A necromancer true,

Who, in his magic ring,
Each ghostly spell defies,
And, mounted on a griffin's wing,
Through the Sahara flies.

O, when the winds, in spring,
Detain thy keel no more,
Home to thy native land take wing, —
Home to thine own tent-door!

There shall Dar Fur, thy country, shake
Gold dust upon thy pow,
For frost and flake thy locks bedeck
With dust of silver now!