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LIVINGSTONE IN AFRICA.
97

Ye rose in heaven on my meridian.
So, in the least conjectured realm of all
These pilgrim feet have found, my whereabout
On this our Earth discovering I record.
But the barbarians, when they saw me place
And note the readings of mine instrument,
Deemed me magician; some beneath their breath,
Viewing my quadrant's ivory curvature,
Whisper'd: "The Son of God hath come to us;
And lo! the moon was underneath his arm!
He holdeth strange communion with stars."

Yours are fair faces of familiar friends
To the lone traveller in a lonely land,
Ye constellations, slowly journeying west!
And some of you, my best beloved at home
May not behold; but some of you, with me,
Their eyes and mine may gaze upon together.
Glorious worlds, unknown to mortal men,
My spirit yearns to you from hollow orbs!
Soon shall I slake my longing all divine
Even in you, with higher powers than these