University of Virginia Library


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LINES,

SUGGESTED BY THE UNCERTAIN FATE OF MUNGO PARK, THE CELEBRATED AFRICAN TRAVELLER.

Oh! when at length through Afric's dreary wild,
Defying death and danger, Park had toil'd,
How proud the day! how blest the venturous man,
That saw accomplish'd all his mighty plan!
Saw Niger roll to meet the morning beam,

“Looking forwards, I saw with infinite pleasure the great object of my mission, the long-sought for majestic Niger, glittering to the morning Sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster, and flowing slowly to the eastward. I hastened to the brink, and having drunk of the water, lifted up my fervent thanks in prayer to the Great Ruler of all things, for having thus far crowned my endeavours with success.” Park's Travels, page 194.


And Sego's towers reflected in the stream!
Delighted of the mystic wave he drank,
Hail'd that bright flood, and dropt upon the bank;
And on that spot, then first by Christian trod,
Pour'd forth thanksgiving to the living God.

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Proud was that day! But lengthen'd labors rose;
By sickness weaken'd, and begirt with foes,
Reluctantly he turn'd; and pass'd again
The dreary wilderness, the fiery plain;

“The burning the grass in Manding, exhibits a scene of terrific grandeur. In the middle of the night I could see the plains and mountains, as far as my eye could reach, variegated with lines of fire; and the light reflected on the sky, made the Heavens appear in a blaze. In the day-time pillars of smoke were seen in every direction; while the birds of prey were observed hovering round the conflagration, and pouring down upon the snakes, lizards, and other reptiles, which attempted to escape from the flames. This annual burning is soon followed by a fresh and sweet verdure, and the country is thereby rendered more healthful and pleasant.” Park's Travels, page 229.


Through barbarous tribes and warring nations tost,
Till health and strength, and all but hope, was lost;
When negro friendship bore him to the strand,
And science hail'd him to his native land.
Then was his hour of bliss! success had crown'd
The daring youth, and spread his fame around;
And pity's sigh, and admiration's smile,
Flush'd his pale cheek, and sweeten'd every toil.
Then high-born beauty join'd th' applauding throng,
And added grace to nature's sweetest song;

Alluding to the beautiful Negro Song, written by the late Duchess of Devonshire.


Whilst in the “white man's woe, the negro's care,”
The gentler sex a double triumph share.
Oh! when secure in Albion's happy land,
He trac'd his dangers with recording hand,

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He little thought, when Houghton's shorten'd date
Drew pitying tears, how similar his fate!

“From this village, Major Houghton, (being deserted by his Negro servants, who refused to follow him into the Moorish country,) wrote his last letter with a pencil to Dr. Laidley. This brave, but unfortunate man, having surmounted many difficulties, had taken a northerly direction, and endeavoured to pass through the kingdom of Ludamar, where I afterwards learned the following particulars concerning his melancholy fate. On his arrival at Jarra, he got acquainted with certain


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Moorish Merchants, who were travelling to Tisheet, a place near the salt-pits in the great desert, to purchase salt; and the Major, at the expense of a musket and some tobacco, engaged them to convey him thither. Their intention, probably, was to rob and leave him in the desert. At the end of two days he suspected their treachery, and insisted on returning to Jarra. Finding him persist in this determination, the Moors robbed him of every thing he possessed, and went off with their camels; the poor Major, being thus deserted, returned on foot to a watering-place, in possession of the Moors, called Tarra. He had been some days without food, and the unfeeling Moors refusing to give him any, he sunk at last under his distresses. Whether he actually perished of hunger, or was murdered by the savage Mahomedans, is not certainly known; his body was dragged into the woods, and I was shown, at a distance, the spot where his remains were left to perish.” Park's Travels, page 103.


How soon those blood-stain'd shores should seal his doom,
Or slavery close him in a living tomb!
Again he went! with hope and ardor fir'd,
With mild philanthropy's warm zeal inspir'd;
Again he went! untrodden worlds to scan,
To meliorate the lot of savage man;
To ope the track for England's peaceful train,
That wafts her commerce o'er the azure main;
To bid fair science bless the sultry shore,
And art diffusive spread her golden store;
Bid pure Religion, 'mid the trackless wild,
Rear her high fane, and pour her precepts mild;
Converted nations own the sacred tie!
And Afric hail the day-spring from on high!

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For this the wanderer went: And how he fell,
Another Park, in future years, may tell;
But fall howe'er he might, whether he died
Swept by the fierce Tornado's furious tide;
Or whether in the desert met his fate,
With famish'd eye, alone and desolate;
Or still more wretched, destin'd to endure
The lingering tortures of the barbarous Moor;
Howe'er he fell, yet glorious was his end,
Of truth, of nature, and of man, the friend!
But long shall Science mourn her venturous son
Untimely lost; her arduous task undone.
Long o'er his fate Philanthropy shall sigh;
And Faith and Virtue waft him to the sky!