THE CAPTIVE OF CAMALU.

O CAMALU-green Camalu!

'Twas there I fed my father's flock,
Beside the mount where cedars threw
At dawn their shadows from the rock;
There tended I my father's flock

Along the grassy-margined rills,

Or chased the bounding bontebok*

With hound and spear among the hills.

Green Camalu! methinks I view
The lilies in thy meadows growing;
I see thy waters bright and blue

Beneath the pale-leaved willows flowing;
I hear, along thy valleys lowing,
The heifers wending to the fold,

And jocund herd-boys loudly blowing
The horn-to mimic hunters bold.

* Bontebok, Antilope Scripta.

Methinks I see the geelhout tree*
That shades the village-chieftain's cot;
The evening smoke curls lovingly

Above that calm and pleasant spot.
I see my sire! I had forgot-

The old man rests in slumber deep.
My mother dear?-she answers not-
Her heart is hushed in dreamless sleep..

My brothers too?-Green Camalu,
Repose they by thy quiet tide?

Ay! there they sleep-where white men slew
And left them-lying side by side:
No pity had those men of pride,

They fired the huts above the dying!-
-White bones bestrew that valley wide-
I wish that mine were with them lying!

I envy you, by Camalu,

Ye wild harts on the woody hills ;
Though tigers there their prey pursue,

And vultures slake in blood their bills:
The heart may strive with Nature's ills,
To Nature's common doom resigned;
Death only once the body kills—

But thraldom brutifies the mind.

Oh, wretched fate!-heart-desolate,
A captive in the spoiler's hand,
To serve the tyrant whom I hate-

To crouch beneath his proud command-
Upon my flesh to bear his brand-

His blows, his bitter scorn to bide!—
Would God, I in my native land

Had with my slaughtered kinsmen died!

Ye mountains blue of Camalu,
Where once I fed my father's flock,
Though desolation dwells with you,
And Amakosa's heart is broke,

Yet, spite of chains these limbs that mock,
My homeless heart to you doth fly,-

As flies the wild dove to the rock

To hide its wounded breast-and die.

Yet, ere my spirit wings its flight
Unto Death's silent shadowy clime,
UTIKA! Lord of life and light,

Who, high above the clouds of Time,
Calm sittest where yon hosts sublime
Of stars wheel round thy bright abode.-
Oh, let my cry unto Thee climb,

Of every race the Father-God.

The yellow-wood tree, podocarpus elongata, in appearance resembling the cedar. + Utika, a word of Hottentot origin, signifying The Beautiful, now used by most of the South African tribes as the name of the Supreme Being-the Christian God.

I ask not judgments from thy hand-
Destroying hail, nor parching drought,
Nor locust-swarms to waste the land,
Nor pestilence by famine brought:
I say the prayer Jankanna* taught,
Who wept for Amakosa's wrongs—
"Thy kingdom come-thy will be wrought-
For unto Thee all power belongs."+

Thy kingdom come! Let light and grace
Throughout all lands in triumph go;
Till pride and strife to love give place,
And blood and tears shall cease to flow;
Till Europe mourn for Afric's woe,

And o'er the deep her arms extend

To lift her where she lieth low,

And prove indeed her CHRISTIAN FRIEND!

ON A PICTURE, ‡

Representing an Italian Contadina and her Family.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

I.

NOT for the myrtle, and not for the vine,

Whose grape, like a gem, is the sunbeam's shrine;
And not for the deep blue heaven, that showers
Joy on thy spirit, like light on the flowers;
And not for the breath of the citron-trees,
Fair Peasant! I call thee not blest for these.

II.

Not for the beauty spread over thy brow,

Though round thee a gleam, as of spring, it throw ;
And not for the lustre that laughs from thine eye,
Like a dark stream's flash to the summer sky,

Though the south in its riches nought lovelier sees-
Fair peasant! I call thee not blest for these!

III.

But for these breathing and loving things

For the boy's fond arm that around thee clings;
For the sunny cheek on thy lap that glows,

In the peace of a trusting child's repose:

For the hearts whose home is thy gentle breast-
Oh! richly I call thee, and deeply blest!

The Caffer name for Dr. Vanderkemp.

+ In the Amakosa tongue as follows: "Amanbla ukusa kuaku makulu; yenza gokuaku-Akandaunios, amanhla, asinkosiné napaketé."

From the Literary Souvenir.

UNVEILING. *

BY THE HON. MRS. NORTON.

"Go! the useless dream is over, Which so long my heart hath nurst; Perjured knight, and faithless lover,

Go! Love's slavish bonds are burst. Never more, at morn or even,

Shall I watch for thy return;
I have prayed-and strength is given,
And my heart hath ceased to burn.
"Never more, my faint head leaning
At the dark verandah's side,
Shall I bless its flowers for screening
Tears I struggled still to hide ;
Nor, with feverish fingers pressing

On my hot and crimsoned cheek
Strive to chase what thy caressing
Taught the tell-tale blood to speak.

"Never more, with timid shrinking Even from the light of day, (Lest the sun should read my thinking, And my wandering thoughts betray,) Shall my hands my closed eyes cover, And my buried head sink lowDreaming of a worshipped lover,

Dreams which none but lovers know.

"Never more!-that love hath vanished,
With its pleasure and its pain;
From my soul thy form is banished,
And my heart is strong again.
But the innocence of feeling,

And the cheerful days of yore,
The holy quiet round me stealing-
What, oh! what can these restore?

"Hollow sounds my vacant laughter,
In which joy hath never part;
And the unbroken silence after
Weighs upon my burdened heart.
Fool! dost think that pain and sadness
Should be borne by me alone?
Thou hast shared my days of gladness,
Thou shalt pay me groan for groan.

"In the midnight, when thou dreamest,
To thy couch my form shall glide;
Even when most alone thou seemest,
I will seat me by thy side.
Vows of love long since were spoken,
Ne'er each other to forsake;

And although thy vows are broken,
Mine, proud youth, I will not break!"

* From the Friendship's Offering.

Loudly laughed her scornful lover-
But he shrank from her dark eye;
And her words, though years pass over,
Still must haunt him till he die.
Vainly, with a coward's shrinking,
He to other lands hath gone;
Sleeping, waking, laughing, drinking,
Never doth he feel alone.

Sweeping past him, slowly trailing
Heavy draperies of white,
Then with steady hand UNVEILIN
Still a figure meets his sight.
At the banquet, she sits by him,
Glides along the merry dance;
And his old companions fly him,
Startled by his frenzied glance.
Vainly doth the bark that bears him

Brave the winds that rouse the sea;
Haunted by the sight that scares him,
Hoarse he whispers" Yes, tis she!"
Vainly, by his friends surrounded,
Doth he raise unquiet mirth,
Still the distant crowd is bounded,
As she glides along the earth.

Even when, low and humbly bending,
With the priest his lips would pray,
With his thoughts her last words blending,
Prayer and hope are chased away.
Slow he hears the drapery trailing
Far along the distant aisle,
And he sees that form UNVEILING,
With a wild and wicked smile.

Wan his form, and pale and wasted,-
Heavy is his step and slow;

The bitter cup his heart hath tasted,

Hath been drugged and brimmed with woe.

Even when on his sick-bed lying,

The heavy VEIL comes sweeping on;
She sits beside his couch while dying,-
Watching till his soul is gone!

THE MARSH-MAIDEN.*

A Tale of the Palatinate.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ROMANCE OF FRENCH HISTORY." I HAD followed the course of the Rhine from its sources among the Alps, and had been carried through lake Constance on its shoulders. I had bared my bosom to the spray of its waters, as they tumbled roaring over the rocks of Lau

fen; and contemplated with scarcely less interest, the smaller cataract of Rheinfelden, called Hollhacken: but as yet I had not been tempted to take more than a traveller's glance as I hurried along. At Basel, however—or

From the Literary Souvenir.