Page:Poems Hornblower.djvu/221

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209

THE MISSIONARY.
I saw a mighty throng around me stand,
With unenlightened hearts, and joyless eyes,
Walking in darkness towards that distant land,
Where wait their hidden future destinies.
Hearts had they, hut untouched with living fire,
To melt at pity, or at virtue glow,
For earthly gain was all their low desire;
The pure delight that nobler joys bestow,
Was hidden from their gaze. The immortal mind
Was famishing within them: it was there,
With all its faculties divine and fair,
Untouched, uncultivated, unrefined.
Pitying, I saw—and be it mine, I cried,
From those benighted hearts to lift the veil,
To see them taught, instructed, purified;
Patient, the dawn of earliest hope to hail;
As plants unfold beneath the breath of heaven,
To raise their spirits with the Eternal trust;
And lead them, penitent, reformed, forgiven,
Beyond the sordid visions of the dust,