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family. He informed us, continues Mr. Barrow, “that his father died and left him when very young, under the guardianship of Zembei, one of his first chiefs, and his own brother, who had acted as regent during his minority ; but that having refused to resign to him his rights on coming at years of discretion, his father's friends had showed themselves in his favour, and by their assistance he had obliged his uncle to fly; that this man had then joined Khootar, a powerful chief to the northward, and with their united power had made war upon him : that he had been victorious, and had taken Zembei prisoner.' Instead of a cruel death which we should have imagined the uncle now to have been exposed to, he was treated, it seems, with great lenity and respect; his wives and children were returned to him; and he was only so far considered a captive, as never to be suffered to leave the village in which the king resided.

They have some singular practices in the interment of their dead. The bodies of their children are deposited in ant-hills, which have been excavated by the ant-eater. On their chiefs only is bestowed the honour of a grave, which is generally dug very deep in the places where their oxen stand during night; the rest of their dead are thrown promiscuously into a ditch, and left without covering to be devoured by the wolves, whom the Kaffers never attempt to destroy, from a consideration of their services. With this apparent neglect of their bodies, a Kaffer not only

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cherishes great respect for his deceased relatives; but to swear by their memory is to take the most sacred oath.

“ The Kaffer women possesses cheerful and animated countenances, are modest in their carriage, lively and curious, but not intruding; and, though of a colour nearly approaching to black, their well constructed features, their beautifully clean teeth, and their eyes dark and sparkling, combine to render many comparatively handsome. They have neither the thick lips nor flat noses of

As the females of a nation but partially civilized, they are remarkable for a sprightly and active turn of mind, and in this respect are totally different to their neighbours the Hottentots. In point of general figure, however, the latter seem to have the advantage in their youth.

“ The men are tall, muscular, and robust, of an open countenance, and manly graceful figure. Good nature and intelligence are depicted in their features, which never betray any signs of fear or suspicion. Their hair, which is short and curling, and their skin which is nearly black,are rubbedover with a solution of red ochre ; and though a few wear cloaks of skin, most of them go quite naked. The women wear cloaks that extend below the calf of the leg; and their head-dress, which is a leather cap, is adorned with beads, shells, and polished pieces of iron or copper.”

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Lines written on seeing the supposed Ashes of a British

Chief disturbed in an ancient Barrow.
“ Let me, let me sleep again;"
Thus methought, in feeble strain,
Plain'd from its disturbed bed
The spirit of the mighty dead.
“ O'er my moulder'd ashes cold,
Many a century slow hath rollid,
Many a race bath disappear'd
Since my giant form I rear'd;
Since my flinted arrow flew,
Since my battle-horn I blew;
Since my brazen dagger's pride
Glitter'd on my warlike side,
Which, transported o’er the wave,
Kings of distant ocean gave;
Ne’er had glared the eye of day,
My death-bed secrets to betray;
Since, with mutter'd Celtic rhyme,
The white-hair'd Druid bard sublime,
'Mid the stillness of the night,
Wak'd the sad and solemn rite,
The rite of death; and o'er my bones,
Where piled the monumental stones,
Passing near the hallow'd ground,
The Roman gaz'd upon the mound;
And murmur'd, with a secret sigh,
* There in dust the mighty lie.'
Ev’n while his heart with conquest glow'd,
While the high-rais'd flinty road,
Echoed to the prancing hoof,
And golden eagles flam'd aloof,

5 of a Brin

And, flashing to the orient light,
His banner'd legions glitter'd bright,
The victor of the world confess'd
A dark awe shivering at his breast.
Shall the sons of distant days
Unpunish'd on my relics gaze ?
Hark! Hesus rushes from on high,
Vindictive thunder rocks the sky,
See Taranis descends to save
His hero's violated grave:
And shakes, beneath the lightning's glare,
The sulphur from his blazing hair.
Hence! ye thought my grave to spoil,
Dark oblivion marks your toil;
Deep the clouds of ages roll,
History drops her mouldering scroll,
And never shall reveal the name,
Of him who scorns her transient fame."


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'Tis silence all-above, beneath,

Along the hill's bleak brow,
Along the marsh's yellow heath,

Along the dell below,
Silent as death, -and yet thy flood,
Pale Serenac! still swells with blood.
Yet from that hill, the sweeping shell

Thunder'd through blazing smoke,
A moment past,—from that calm dell

The spiry rocket broke;
And o'er that marsh, so hushed and lone,
Rung shout and charge, and dying groan.


And still the work of war is there;

In many a streamer rent,
The strip'd flag wavering to the air,

The shatter'd battlement.
And darker still, the heaps that heave
The soil above their half-made grave.

These are the bones of warrior-men,

That fear'd no human foe,
The world might vainly match again

The hearts that here lie low.
But our's the grief, and guilt, and stain,
That blood like their’s was shed in vain!

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They came in triumph o'er the tide

From lands their valour won,
From the dark Tyrant's humbled pride,

From the world's chain undone.
Nor e'er from toil or triumph came
Such hands of might, such souls of flame.

" God and the Right," their charging word,

Stronger than helm or mail,
The prayer of Europe on their sword,

Its shout upon the gale.
Like Heaven's own lightnings rushing on
They smote the Oppressor on his throne.

Their rest was short. They rose again,

To crush the vilest foe
That ever shrunk on land or main

Before a Briton's blow:
That all their father-spirit gone,
Bowed basest to that bloody throne!

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