University of Virginia Library

A freeman am I, must I die a slave adrift at sea,
Or must I live as master's dog to whimper at his plea.
And must I crawl down at his feet, and must I lick his hands?
Poor Ajax' cheeks did flush with heat he ground his teeth like sand.
By Jove, by thunder, by the gods, I'd rather herd with wolves,
And seek the lion's friendship and to tigers make my love,
Then I could marshal all their strength against the cursed mob,
And teach them how it felt to give a beast a wailing sob.
To all my sorrows I would add those of my punished race,
And devote myself to vengeance upon this black disgrace.
And I would pray to all the gods, the gods both good and bad
To lend me their special terrors to ridicule this fad.
I'd ask for tempest, heat and cold, for drought, for wild beast's lair,
And all the poison of the land that men let loose in air—
And all the thousand other things that quickly put to sleep—
Of which men die on sea and land, my God! why should I weep?
My feelings are not vagary as a sensitive lad
But reas'ning of suffering manhood to give endurance sad.
Every age has its sorrows and O, the ills of time,
No parallel in human life to match this lynching clime,
My spirit never goes to sleep I cannot rest at night,
A dog remembers, long, a wrong, he knows a friend at sight.
I have a book of great events, I'll write this voyage down
That men may know what I have seen and try its depths to sound.
My mother, father all are gone and I in this wild wood,
My wife and child sev'r'd from me, all gone but my manhood.
I never hope to find them now amid my anxious fears
As “Ben Hur” found his jewels after eight long grieving years.
He found his precious mother and his sister with disease
From out a wicked dungeon he brought them to release.
But dungeons where the lynchers place the prison'd corpse of man
The buzzard sailing in the air has all at his command.
O white man! Can't I probe from you a single, tender sob?
And won't you help me pray one prayer to your Almighty God?
“O God! give me a little faith and into my darkness—
That's deeper darkening every day, O send a light of rest.
All hopes deal with the future Lord, I hope for better days,
And while I'm drifting down the tide, guide me the right of way.”
Laurels of this world may be sweet but they soon pass away.
We have no laurels as a race, are they in coming days?
Like those colossal tombs of old on drifting desert sands
They cast shadows 'cross the cent'ries then crumble to the land.
This country in a prosperous stage will yet come to a halt,
And see the depths of this outrage and remedy the fault.
When time lies down fore'er to sleep at eternity's feet,
And vanities, pomps, more creep upon the stage so sweet—
And stars of heaven have all gone out of their ethereal home
The eternal hand, unseen by us across this land will roam.”