Poems (Mitford)/Lines, suggested by the uncertain Fate of Mungo Park

by Mary Russell Mitford

LINES, SUGGESTED BY THE UNCERTAIN FATE OP 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 vent'rous man,
That saw accomplish'd all his mighty plan!
Saw Niger roll to meet the morning beam,
And Sego's tow'rs reflected in the stream!
Delighted of the mystic wave he drank,
Hail'd the bright flood, and dropt upon the bank;
And on that spot, then first by Christian trod,
Pour'd forth thanksgiving to the living God.
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;
Through barb'rous 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,
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,
He little thought, when Houghton's shorten'd date
Drew pitying tears, how similar his fate?
How soon those blood-stain'd shores should seal his doom,
Or slav'ry 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 fame, and pour her precepts mild,
Converted nations own the sacred tie!
And Afric hail the day-spring from on high!
For this the wand'rer 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 ling'ring tortures of the barb'rous 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 vent'rous son
Untimely lost; her arduous task undone.
Long o'er his fate Philanthropy shall sigh;
And Faith and Virtue waft him to the sky!