Flitted the victors swiftly through the land,
Red with the trophies of their deadly fight,
Leaving the lion and his hungry crew
To clear the morning of this bloody dew.

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