Page:Livingstone in Africa.djvu/43

And doubt of her pre-eminent destiny—
Brutebrow'd, brutemaw'd, huge hirsute prodigies,
Challenging with a vast appalling roar
Whoso disturbs their monstrous monarchy!
Dark unimaginable human lives,
Ever alone in this most ancient realm,
Immured in a stupendous sepulchre,
Afar from man's tumultuous chariot-race
Of sounding splendour; somnolent aware
How the dull tide of dim inglorious years
Moves ever foul and lurid with the scurf
Of ruin'd blood, and gold, and scalding tears!

⁠Some veer small restless, rambling, apelike eyes;
Their clicking gibber mimics flittermice;
A skeleton people plucking roots and berries
For starved subsistence, grubbing shallow holes,
Or sheltering in borrow'd dens disused. . . .
What people lies before me? some affirm
That there be men sepulchred verily
In subterranean chambers like the dead;
Burrowing human moles, fleeing from light,