Page:Livingstone in Africa.djvu/73

A man who turn'd at intervals to leopard,
Lurking in dens to feed upon mankind;
Anon the beast's heart gather'd strong within him;
Burn'd to devour, to lap the blood of men;
Until the lust of death beyond control
Drove him from home into the awful wild—
Where, horror! transformation swiftly grew
From the inhuman heart to the man's mind,
And human limbs—behold! he crouches low,
Fire-eyed, in act to spring—sleek, supple beast,
His body of flame starr'd over with black night:
Large-brain'd, blood-thirstiest of the infernal crew,
Six human victims hath the wizard slain,
Ere, man once more, the avengers torture him,
Avowing with bitter tears the sorcery. . . . .
Then many a negro, shivering, glances round,
Timidly peering into forest gloom;
They pile more wood; sitting in silence, till
Another adds his marvel to the store.

Is it all fable? is it all illusion?
Nay, doth not our most awful Universe