To meet them joyous forth their women came,
  And led them back in triumph to the fold;
Taunting their foes with many a bitter shame,
  Though now they lay in Death’s aims stark and cold: 
Whilst the poor captives, rack’d with fear and woe,
Cower’d close together from Fate’s hapless blow.

Soon there came traders from the coast, and then
  The weeping captives all were marshall’d out,
And barter’d singly with the heartless men,
  Each bosom trembling still with fear and doubt;
But when the truth burst on them, a hoarse cry
Of wild despair ascended to the sky.

There was one there who from the Tree of Life
  Pluck’d yet the blossoms with the fruit of years;
Scarce yet a woman, though a meek-soul’d wife,
  And with a babe to claim her prayers and tears,
A tender bud of early summer time
Ere breezy woods are in their verdant prime.

Her ’mongst the rest they barter’d, and the child,
  Too young to sever from its mother’s breast,
Left they unnoticed, whilst she, poor one, wild
  ’Twixt hope and fear, still held it closely prest
Unto her heart, whose throbbings, loud and deep,
Beat an alarum through the infant’s sleep.

But soon her master, as he hasten’d off
  With his new purchases, the infant caught,
And bid the mother, with a heartless scoff,
  Fling it away:  said he, “’Tis good for nought;
None of this lumber can we have, the road
Is long enough to tread without a load.”

The mother clasp’d her babe with bitter cry,
  But a rude hand enforced it from her arms,
And the rough steward held it up on high,
  Laughing aloud the while at her alarms;
Said he unto his master; “This shall be
A bait to draw her on with willingly.”

He bound around the infant’s waist a line,
  That fasten’d to his crupper, and then gave
The babe back to her, laughing,—­“That end’s thine—­
  The other stays with me;” “A witty slave!”
The master chuckled, and they moved away,
She following with anguish and dismay.

They journey’d o’er the desert, ’neath a sky
  Scorch’d by the fiery footsteps of the sun,
Without a shade to bless the wistful eye;
  And soon her fellow slaves droop’d, one by one,
Callous to blows that harshly drove them on,
Strength, hope, and love of life all seeming gone.

But she went onward with no word or plaint,
  Clasping the child unto her bosom still,
Unflagging when all else began to faint,
  Intent to save her little one from ill;
And they look’d on her as she sped along,
Wond’ring what made so frail a creature strong.

At eve she bent above her sleeping treasure,
  With eyes that wept for pity and for love,
Filling its cup of life in richer measure,
  With the blest care that watches us above;
And in the morn they bound the babe again,
And so drew on the mother in their train.