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, knaves; 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. THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW.WORM A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long |