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LIVINGSTONE IN AFRICA.
59

And since she died,12 rapture of my young years,
Lore, and abiding pole-star of my life!
A marble cross, that gleams amid the gloom
Shines ever in dim vistas of my soul;
And I desire to lay my toil-worn limbs
Under still leaves of some primæval grove,
As she, my well-beloved, resteth hers.
She sail'd from England, to divide my care,
With brave Mackenzie's and another's wife:
Alas! Mackenzie and his friend had fallen
In the stern path of duty when they came!
And these two white-faced women wept alone
Over two very silent forest graves.
Alas! how soon I wept beside another;
For very soon my Mary went to rest.
(Her venerable father, Moffat, only
Is known among the tribes of Africa
As my own Mary's father, as Ra-Mary.)
The fever seized her, and she pass'd away:
She pass'd at sunset on a Sabbath eve,
And left my feet to wander in the shade.