THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. FORCED from home and all its pleasures, To increase a stranger's treasures, Men from England bought and sold me, But, though slave they have enroll'd me, Still in thought as free as ever, 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 tell us, Is there One who reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us, Speaking from his throne, the sky? Ask him, if your knotted scourges Hark! he answers- -Will tornadoes -No. By our blood in Afric wasted, Deem our nation brutes no longer, PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequor. I own I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea! Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes, If foreigners likewise would give up the trade, Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind |