Akra the Slave
And, once, when in mid-torrent,

That swirled, girth-high about the plunging beasts,

A startled otter, glancing

Before their very hoofs,

Affrighted them; and, rearing,

With blind and desperate floundering,

They nearly dragged us down to death:

And, ere we righted,

With a fearful cry,

My eldest sister from the bevy broke;

And struck down-stream

With wild arm lashing desperately,

Until the current caught her;

And she sank, to rise no more.

And on again we travelled,

Down through the darkling woodlands:

And once I saw green, burning eyes,

Where, on a low-hung bough,

A night-black panther crouched,

As though to pounce upon my sisters;


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