| |
| BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, | |
| His sickle in his hand; | |
| His breast was bare, his matted hair | |
| Was buried in the sand. | |
| Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, | 5 |
| He saw his Native Land. | |
| |
| Wide through the landscape of his dreams | |
| The lordly Niger flowed; | |
| Beneath the palm-trees on the plain | |
| Once more a king he strode; | 10 |
| And heard the tinkling caravans | |
| Descend the mountain road. | |
| |
| He saw once more his dark-eyed queen | |
| Among her children stand; | |
| They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, | 15 |
| They held him by the hand!— | |
| A tear burst from the sleeper’s lids | |
| And fell into the sand. | |
| |
| And then at furious speed he rode | |
| Along the Niger’s bank: | 20 |
| His bridle-reins were golden chains, | |
| And, with a martial clank, | |
| At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel | |
| Smiting his stallion’s flank. | |
| |
| Before him, like a blood-red flag, | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| |
| At night he heard the lion roar, | |
| And the hyena scream, | |
| And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds | |
| Beside some hidden stream; | |
| And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, | 35 |
| Through the triumph of his dream. | |
| |
| The forests, with their myriad tongues, | |
| Shouted of liberty; | |
| And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud, | |
| With a voice so wild and free, | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| And his lifeless body lay | |
| A worn-out fetter, that the soul | |
| Had broken and thrown away! | |
| |
