We entirely concur in the following observations of a writer in the Edinburgh Review: "We bid a mournful farewell to the sufferings and exploits of this illustrious man;—sufferings borne with an unaffected cheerfulness of magnanimity, which must both exalt and endear him to all who are capable of being touched with what is generous and noble in character,—and exploits performed with a mildness and modesty and kindness of nature, not less admirable than the heroic firmness and ardour with which they were conjoined. In Mungo Park, we are not afraid to say, that the world lost a great man—one who was well qualified, and indeed has been, one of its benefactors. His travels are interesting, not merely to those who care about Africa, or the great schemes to his zeal for which he fell a martyr, but to all who take delight in the spectacle of unbounded courage and heroic ardour, unalloyed with any taint of ferocity, selfishness, or bigotry."
Park left behind him three sons and a daughter. Mungo, the eldest, became an assistant-surgeon in India, and soon after died. Thomas, the second, resembled his father both in appearance and disposition, and early cherished the intention of obtaining certain information as to his father's fate. He was a midshipman on board the Sybille; and having obtained permission from the Lords of the Admiralty, set out on an expedition into the interior. He landed at Acra in June 1827; but arrived there only to die. Archibald, the youngest son, is a lieutenant in the Bengal service. Park's daughter is the wife of Henry Wetter Meredith, Esq. of Pentry-Bichen, Denbighshire. Park's widow is still living.
The following beautiful tribute to Mungo Park's memory appeared in
Blackwood's Magazine:—
The Negro's Lament for Mungo Park.
1.
Where the wild Joliba
Rolls his deep waters,
Sate at their evening toil
Afric's dark daughters:
Where the thick mangroves
Broad shadows were flinging,
Each o'er her lone loom
Bent mournfully singing—
"Alas! for the white man! o'er deserts a ranger,
No more shall we welcome the white-bosomed stranger!
2.
"Through the deep forest
Fierce lions are prowling;
'Mid thickets entangling,
Hyenas are howling;
There should he wander,
Where danger lurks ever;
To his home, where the sun sets,
Return shall he never.
Alas! for the white man! o'er deserts a ranger,
No more shall we welcome the white-bosomed stranger!
3.
"The hands of the Moor
In his wrath do they bind him?
Oh! sealed is his doom
If the savage Moor find him.
More fierce than hyenas,
Through darkness advancing,
Is the curse of the Moor,
And his eyes fiery glancing!
Alas! for the white man! o'er deserts a ranger,
No more shall we welcome the white-bosomed stranger!