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Hark! he 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, Fixed their tyrants' habitations

Where his whirlwinds answer-no.

By our blood in Afric wasted,

Ere our necks received the chain ; By the miseries that we tasted,

Crossing in your barks the main ; By our sufferings since ye brought us,

To the man-degrading mart ;
All sustained by patience, taught us

Only by a broken heart ;
Deem our nation brutes no longer,

Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger

Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings

Tarnish all your boasted powers, Prove that you have human feelings,

Ere you proudly question ours !

PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.

I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves,
And fearthose who buy them and sell them are knaves ;
What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and
Is almost enough to draw pity from stones. [groans,

I pity them greatly, but I must be mum,
For how could we do without sugar and rum?
Especially sugar, so needful we see?
What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea!
Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes,
Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains ;
If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will,
And tortures and groans will be multiplied still.

If foreigners likewise would give up the trade,
Much more in behalf of your wish might be said ;
But while they get riches by purchasing blacks,
Pray tell me why we may not also go snacks ?

Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A story so pat, you may think it is coined,
On purpose to answer you, out of
But I can assure you I saw it in print.

my

mint:

A youngster at school more sedate than the rest,
Had once his integrity put to the test;
His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob,
And asked him to go and assist in the job.

He was shocked, sir, like you, and answered—- Oh no!
What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you don't go;
Besides the man's poor, his orchard's his bread,
Then think of his children, for they must be fed.'
* You speak very fine, and you look very grave,
But apples we want, and apples we'll have;
If you will go with us, you shall have a share,
If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear.'
They spoke, and Tom pondered—I see they will go :
Poor man! what a pity to injure him so !
Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could,
But staying behind will do him no good.
• If the matter depended alone upon me,
His apples might hang till they dropped from the tree;
But, since they will take them, I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me, though I get a few.'
His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease,
And went with his comrades the apples to seize;
He blamed and protested, but joined in the plan:
He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man.

THE MORNING DREAM. 'Twas in the glad season of spring,

Asleep at the dawn of the day,
I dreamed what I cannot but sing,

So pleasant it seemed as I lay;
I dreamed that, on ocean afloat,

Far hence to the westward I sailed, While the billows high-lifted the boat,

And the fresh-blowing breeze never failed.

T

In the steerage a woman I saw,

Such at least was the form that she wore, Whose beauty impressed 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 heard,
She sung of the slave's broken chain,

Wherever her glory appeared.
Some clouds which had over us hung,

Fled, chased by her melody clear,
And methought while she liberty sung,

'Twas liberty only to hear.

Thus swiftly dividing the flood,

To a slave-cultured island we came, Where a demon, her enemy

stood Oppression his terrible name. In his hand, as the sign of his sway,

A scourge hung with lashes he bore, And stood looking out for his prey

Froin Africa's sorrowful shore.

But soon as approaching the land

That goddess-like woman he viewed, The scourge he let fall from his hand,

With blood of his subjects imbrued. I saw him both sicken and die,

And the moment the monster expired, Heard shouts, that ascended the sky,

From thousands with rapture inspired.

Awaking, how could I but muse

At what such a dream should betide ? But soon my ear caught the glad news,

Which served my weak thought for a guide That Britannia, renowned o'er the waves

For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves,

Resolves to have none of her own.

THE

NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheered the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark,
So stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus right eloquent-
Did
you

admire my lamp, quoth he,
As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song ;
For 'twas the self-same power divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;

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