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Still in thought as free as ever,
What are England's rights I ask, Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task ? Fleecy locks and black complexion,
Cannot forfeit Nature's claiin; Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the same
Why did all-creating Nature
Make the plant for which we toil Sighs must fan it, tears must water,
Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted,
Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted
For the sweets your cane affords.
Is there, as ye sometimes tel} us,
Is there one, wlio reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us,
Speaking from his throne, the sky? Ask him, if your knotted scourges,
Matclics, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges
Agents of his will to use?
Hark! lie answers-wild tornadoes,
Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,
Are the voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations
Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrants' habitations
Where his whirlwinds answer--No.
By our blood in Afric wasted,
; By the mis'ries that we tasted,
Crossing in your barks the main,
By our sufferings since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart;
Only by a broken heart;
Till some reason ye shull find
Than the colour of our kind.
Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs,
Ere you proudly question ours !
PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.
Video mcliora proboque,
TOWN I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves,
What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and
groans, Is almost enough to draw pity from stones.
I pity them greatly-but I must be mum-
Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Dancs,
If foreigners likewise would give up the trade,
Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest,
He was shock'd, sir, like you, and answerd_" Oli no!
They spoke, and Tom ponder'd I see they will go ;
bl If the matter depended alone upon me,
His scruples thus silenc'd, Tom felt more at ease,
"TWAS in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day, I dream'd what I cannot but sing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay. I dream'd, that on occan afloat,
Far hence to the westward I sail'd, While the billows high lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd
In the steerage a vonan I saw,
Such at least was the forin that she wore, Whose beauty impress'd me with awe,
Ne'er taught me by woman before. She sat, and a shield at her side
Shed light like a sun on the waves, And smiling divinely, she cried
“I go to make freemen of slaves.”Then raising her voice to a strain
The sweetest that ear ever hicard,
Wherever ler glory appear'd.
Fled, chas’d by her melody clear,
'Twas liberty only to hear.
Thus swiflly dividing the flood,
To a slave-cultur'd island we came, Where a demon her enemy stood
Oppression his terrible name.
In his hand, as the sign of his sway,
A scourge lung with lashes he bore, And stood looking out for his prey
From Africa's sorrowsul shore.
But soon as approaching the land,
That goddess-like woman he view'd, The scourge he let fall from his hand,
With blood of his subjects imbru'd. I saw him both sicken and die,
And the moment the monster expir'd, Heard shouts that ascended the sky,
From thousands with rapture inspir'd.
Awaking, how could I but muse
At what such a dream should betide : But soon my ear caught the glad news,
Which scrv'd my weak thought for a guide. That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves
For the hatred she cver has shown To the black-scepter'd rulers of slaves,
Resolves to have none of her own.
NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW.WORM
A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long