The weary LASCAR turn’d away, For trembling fear his heart subdued, And down his cheek the tear would stray, Though burning anguish drank his blood! The angry Mastiff snarl’d, as he Turn’d from the house of luxury; The sultry hour was long, and high The broad sun flamed athwart the sky— But still a throbbing hope possess’d The Indian wand’rer’s fev’rish breast, When from the distant dell a sound Of swelling music echo’d round. XIII. It was the church-bell’s merry peal; And now a pleasant house he view’d: And now his heart began to feel As though, it were not quite subdu’d! No lofty dome, shew’d loftier state, No pamper’d Porter watch’d the gate, No Mastiff, like a tyrant stood, Eager to scatter human blood; Yet the poor Indian wand’rer found, E’en where Religion smil’d around— That tears had little pow’r to speak When trembling, on a sable cheek! XIV. With keen reproach, and menace rude, The LASCAR Boy away was sent; And now again he seem’d subdu’d, And his soul sicken’d, as he went. Now, on the river’s bank he stood; Now, drank the cool refreshing flood; Again his fainting heart beat high; Again he rais’d his languid eye; Then, from the upland’s sultry side, Look’d back, forgave the wretch, and sigh’d! While the proud PASTOR bent his way To preach of CHARITY—and PRAY! _PART SECOND._ I. The LASCAR Boy still journey’d on, For the hot Sun, HE well could bear, And now the burning hour was gone, And Evening came, with softer air! The breezes kiss’d his sable breast, While his scorch’d feet the cold dew prest; The waving flow’rs soft tears display’d, And songs of rapture fill’d the glade; The South-wind quiver’d, o’er the stream Reflecting back the rosy beam, While, as the purpling twilight clos’d, On a turf bed—the Boy repos’d! II.