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,