When friendly death our woe-worn frames shall free; And take our abject souls from misery,
Our ghosts, all stain'd with blood, shall daily cry To heav'n, for vengeance, and the blushing sky. If we, for latent guilt, be doom'd to woes;
The crimes we learned from our Christian foes.
Our ghosts shall follow them thro' earth and sky;
And, wrapt in flames, will blaze tremendously;
Flash in their faces, and for justice cry.
Our vengeful spirits shall enhance their woe,
Enjoy their anguish, and their torments know;
And smile with transport in the shades below!
These words were all, though much she had to say;
And scarce these few, for tears, could force their way.
Trembling with agonizing fear and woe,
The children view each bloody Christian foe;
Cling to their parents with a close embrace;
With kisses wander o'er each tearful face.
The scramble o'er, the horrid sale's now done;
The slaves but find their sorrows just begun.
To separate the hapless weeping throng,
The cow-skin hero wields the knotted thong.
And, as he wields, applies the dreadful blow;
Whilst streams of blood in purple torrents flow.
Smit with the signs, which all their fears explain,
The strict embrace exchang'd, their knees sustain
Their children's weight no more; their arms alone
Support them, round their bleeding parents thrown.
They faint, they sink, by dreadful woes opprest. Each heart weeps blood, and anguish rends each breast.
With fear and cruel pain they stood amaz'd;
First up to heav'n, then on their foes they gaz'd,
And, as they gaze, the pearly sorrows flow,
In grief profound, unutterable woe.
All stain'd with blood, a weeping mother prest
Her dear, dear trembling infant to her breast.
Then, shrieking, to her wretched husband springs,
With her poor babe, and on his bosom hangs,
Kissing his lips, his cheeks, his weeping eyes;
While tears descend to earth, and groans ascend
the skies.
Quick through his bleeding heart her sorrows ran;
Grief seiz'd his soul; and wrapt up all the man.
Deep, deep he sigh'd; and, when he sigh'd, he shed
A flood of big round tears; and thus he said—
Imperial Jove, thou sov'reign of the skies,
Avenge our wrongs, our mighty wrongs, he cries.
Our wrongs, the hero said, and strove to say;
But sighs and mighty groans stopt up the way.
Now furious rage the mournful chief inspires,
And all his soul just indignation fires.
Amid his hapless family he stands,
And lifts to heav'n his eyes and spreading hands.
Oppress'd with grief, and raving with despair,
With groans, prefers to Jove his mental prayer:
And, while he thus his wrathful prayer prefer'd, His wrathful prayer th' almighty sov'reign heard. And, lo, the chief stood still in grief profound, And fix'd his eyes with anguish on the ground, Majestically sad. The hosts on high,
With gazing saints, lean forward from the sky, From clouds, all fring'd with gold, their bodies bent;
With eager eyes, they view the sad event;
They view the hero's wrongs, the foe's delight,
They view his wrongs, and loath the hateful sight:
Then veil their eyes, refulgent to behold,
With their white wings, all tipt with downy gold;
To whom, while blushing, from the chief they look,
The sire of men, the sire of angels spoke.
Around his brows a brilliant cloud was spread,
And floods of glory flam'd above his head.
Like mighty thunders, lo, his voice he rear'd,
Hosts dropt their harps, and worshipp❜d as they
heard.
With awe, they see the checquer'd lightnings play,
And turn their eye-balls from the golden ray.
Thus, in the starry courts, enthron'd on high,
Sat the majestic monarch of the sky;
A robe, beyond the thought of mortals white,
He wore, all fring'd with stars and golden light;
Bright azure gilds the arches of his brows,
And on his cheeks empyreal purple glows.
Around his em'rald throne arch-angels meet,
And smiling seraphs worship at his feet.
Where'er, serene, he turns his dazling eyes,
There's peace, there's joy, there's love, there's
paradise:
But if just anger reddens their mild beams,
All heav'n trembles, and the world's in flames.
Rank'd by degrees, in the supreme abode,
Bright cherubs, wond'ring, view th' immortal God.
Beneath his eye, the heav'ns, in full survey,
The spacious earth, and vast creation, lay.
He darts his eye, his piercing eye profound,
And looks majestically stern around;
And, with a single glance, the God surveys
The slaves, the ships, the navigable seas.
Again the sire of men his silence broke,
All heav'n, attentive, trembled as he spoke ;
The stormy winds a solemn silence keep,
The curling waves lie level on the deep;
All æther trembled, while high heav'n was aw'd,
All nature reverenc'd th' immortal God. -
His voice harmonious, thus Jehovah cries,
While anger sparkled in his awful eyes-
"Behold and blush, ye first-born of the skies,
Behold yon Christian hypocrites unjust,
Full of rage, rapine, cruelty, and lust;
T'enslave my sons, they propagate their sway,
Join fraud to force, and bear the spoils away.
Who, smooth of tongue, in purpose insincere, Hide fraud in smiles, while death is harbour'd there :
From tender husbands, weeping brides they tare;
They proffer peace, yet wage unnatʼral war :
Whilst still they hope we'll wink at their deceit,
› And call their villainies the crimes of fate.
Unjust mankind, whose will's created free,
Charge all their guilt on absolute decree ;
To us they pray, to us their sins translate,
And follies are miscall'd the crimes of fate.
The Christian rulers in their ruin join,
And truth is scorn'd! By all the perjur'd line,
Their crimes transcend, all crimes since Noah's
flood;
Their guilty glories soon shall set in blood.
They swear by heav'n, then spill their brother's
Lo, view my creatures bleeding on the shore:
Shall heav'n be false, because revenge is slow?
No-we prepare to strike the fiercer blow:
Sure is our justice. They shall feel their woe!
The day shall come, that great avenging day,
When all their honours in the dust shall lay;
Ourself shall pour dire judgments on their land.
Thus have we said, and what we say shall stand.
Their cruelty for justice daily cries,
And pulls reluctant vengeance from the skies;
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