NOTES AND TESTIMONIra. 859

Regardless of thy glorious clime,
 Unmindful of thy soil of flowers,
 The wasting negro sighed, that Time
 No faster sped his hours;
 For by the dewy moonlight still
 He fed the weary-turning mill,
 Or bent him, in the chill morass,
 To pluck the long and tangled gras.e -
 And hear above his scar-worn back .
.The heavy slave-whip's frequent crack;
While in his heart one evil thought
In solitary madness wrought,-
One baleful fire surviving still
 The quenching of the immortal mind,-
 One sterner pa,;ion of his kind,
 Which even fetters tould not. kill,-
 The savage hope, to deal, erelong,
 A vengeance bitterer than his wrong I


 Hark to that cry I long, loud and shrl,
 From field and forest, rock and bill,
 Thrilling horrible it rang,
 Around, beneath, above; -
 The wild beast from his cavern sprang,-
 The wild bird from her grove I
 Nor fear, nor joy, nor agony
 Were mingled in that midnight cry;
 But, like the lion's growl of wrath,
 When falls that hunter in his path,
 Whose barbMd arrow, deeply set,
 ls rankling in his bosom yet,
 It told of hate. deep, full, and strong, -
 Of vengeance kindling out of wrong;
 It was as if the crimes of years, -
 The unrequited toil, the tears,