Classic Poem

Ah ! little did I ever think,
Aladdin's lamp, that op'd the dark,
One plain reporter's skull outshone —
To light a dark world with his wink:
That at my side was Mungo Park,
Who would discover Prester John!

Yet he who wrote the mighty strife
Where Ethiop's freedom was the gage,
Well-lived to beat Da Gama's cruise,
And strike at slavery's fountain life, —
Marched overland through Pluto's age,
And was the Orpheus of the News.

Old correspondent of our war!
You gild our humble craft with gold
That from the Afric sands you bring;
You ride the night like Bethlehem's star;
And magi follow to behold
That in our stall was born the king.

You go where Shakespere's fancy ceased —
Beyond the Roman and the Nile;
Decatur stopped where you began;
And drooped the missionary priest,
Lost to his gospel and his isle,
And all but one brave fellow man.

Then, darker lands of envious doubt
You found returning to your own —
The shrug, the sneer, the pedant's scorn,
The lazy printer's rival pout:
Which met Columbus at the throne,
And were the Saviour's crown of thorn.

Though courts and kings may now avail
For wealth or glory, of your use,
And in your name think lineage be,
I only see in Stanley's mail
The youthful herald of the News,
And courier of Democracy.