XLIV

4 0 00

XLIV

“Good! good!” cried Hum, “I’ve known her from a child!

She is a changeling of my management;

She was born at midnight in an Indian wild;

Her mother’s screams with the striped tiger’s blent,

While the torch-bearing slaves a halloo sent

Into the jungles; and her palanquin,

Rested amid the desert’s dreariment,

Shook with her agony, till fair were seen

The little Bertha’s eyes ope on the stars serene.”