University of Virginia Library

Farewel, bright Goddess of th'Idalian Grove!
Farewel, ye sportive Deities of Love!
No longer I your pleasing Joys rehearse;
A rougher Theme demands my pensive Verse;
A Scene of Woes remains to be display'd,
Indulgent Love with Slavery repaid:
Ingratitude, and broken Vows, and Lies,
The mighty Ills, that spring from Avarice,
Provoke my Lays: Your Aid, ye Muses, bring;
Assist my Tragic Numbers, while I sing.
Say, what ensu'd, when, on the briny Deep,
The watchful Dame beheld a floating Ship?
She call'd, and beckon'd to it from the Shore;
Then to the Youth the grateful Tidings bore;
And said, I something see, like winged Trees,
(Strange to behold!) fly swiftly o'er the Seas;
Their bulky Roots upon the Billows float:
Say, is not this the Ship, you long have sought?
Or I mistake, or, by the Gods Command,
This comes to bear us to your native Land:
Then hasten, see the Partner of your Heart,
With You, her Guide, is ready to depart;
My Father, Mother, Friends, I bid Adieu,
Friends, Father, Mother, not so dear as You.

To whom the Youth, with smiling Brow, reply'd:
O thou true Pattern of a faithful Bride!
Who dar'st thy Father, Mother, Friends resign;
And risque thy own dear Life, to rescue mine!—
If I forget the Debt I owe to Thee,
May all the Gods forget their Care of Me!
In more wild Deserts let me rove again;
Nor find a Friend, like Thee, to ease my Pain!
There let the Vulturs, Wolves, and Tigers tear
This Body, Thou hast kindly nourish'd here!

So saying, to the Beach he straight descends;
And, by the Flag, discerns the Crew his Friends:
And now his Heart exults within his Breast;
His loving Mate an equal Joy confest;
She, with him, gladly ventures on the Main,
Unthinking of her future Toil and Pain.

So, to the Plough, the Heifer, yet unbroke,
Walks chearful on, nor dreads th'impending Yoke;
Till, in the Fields, urg'd with the piercing Goad,
She groans, and writhes, reluctant with her Load.

The British Bark was to Barbados bound:
Th'expected Shore the Sailers quickly found;
Where, safe from Danger, now the perjur'd Youth,
False to his former Vows of sacred Truth,
Reflecting, counts the Int'rest he had lost,
While Fate detain'd him on the Indian Coast:
The frugal Thoughts suppress his am'rous Flame,
And prompt him to betray the faithful Dame.
Yet scarce he can the cursed Fact pursue;
But hesitates at what he fain would do:
For, tho' his Av'rice moves him to the Ill,
His Gratitude within him struggles still;
And, 'twixt two Passions, neither guides his Will.

As when two Scales, which equal Loads suspend,
Sway to and fro; alternate both descend,
Till undeclining each aloft abides,
Nor this, nor that, the doubtful Weight decides.

So stood the doubtful Youth a-while; nor wou'd
Forsake the Evil, nor pursue the Good;
Till, as the Sailers in the Haven stay,
To purchase Slaves, the Planters croud the Key:
One asks, for what the Negro may be sold;
Then bids a Price, and shews the tempting Gold:
Which when Avaro views with greedy Eyes,
He soon resolves to gain th'alluring Prize;
Nor Oaths, nor Gratitude, can longer bind;
Her Fate he thus determines in his Mind:

“Suppose I should conduct this Indian o'er;
“And thus, instead of Gold, import a Moor—
“Would not my Sire, with stern contracted Brows,
“Condemn my Choice, and curse my nuptial Vows?
“Was it for this I learn'd the Merchant's Art?
“Only to gain a doating Negro's Heart!
“Was it for this the raging Seas I crost?
“No; Gold induc'd me to the Indian Coast;
“And Gold is offer'd for this simple Dame;
“Shall I refuse it, or renounce my Flame?—
“Let am'rous Fools their tiresome Joys renew,
“And doat on Love, while Int'rest I pursue.”
He added not; for now, intent on Gold,
And dead to all Remorse, the Dame he sold.

AMANDA stood confounded with Surprize,
And silently reproach'd him with her Eyes:
She often try'd to speak; but when she try'd,
Her Heart swell'd full, her Voice its Aid deny'd;
And, when she made her fault'ring Tongue obey,
These Words, commix'd with Sighs, found out their Way.

“Who can the mystic Ways of Fate explain?
“Am I awake, or do I dream again?
“Is this the sad Reward of all my Care?
“Was it for this I chear'd thee in Despair?
“The Gods above (if any Gods there be)
“Witness what I have done to succour thee!
“Yet, if my Kindness can't thy Pity move,
“Pity the Fruits of our unhappy Love:
“O let the Infant, in my pregnant Womb,
“Excite thee to revoke my threaten'd Doom;
“Think how the future Slave, in Climes remote,
“Shall curse the treach'rous Sire, that him begot.”

So spake the mourning Dame, but spake in vain;
Th'obdurate Youth insults her with Disdain;
Not all her Kindness could his Pity move,
Nor yet the Fruits of their unhappy Love.
But, as the Flames, which soften Wax, display
The same warm Force to harden sordid Clay;
That Motive, which would melt another Heart,
More harden'd his, and made him act a double Villain's Part.
He, for the Child, demands a larger Sum;
And sells it, while an Embryo in the Womb.

And now he sternly takes her by the Hand,
Then drags her on, reluctant, to the Land;
While, as she walks, her dismal Fate she moans,
The Rocks around her echo to her Groans:
“O base, ungrateful Youth!” she loudly cries;
“O base, ungrateful Youth!” the Shore replies:
“And canst thou, cruel, perjur'd Villain! leave
“Thy tender Infant too, an abject Slave,
“To toil, and groan, and bleed beneath the Rod?
“Fool that I was, to think thou wert a God!
“Sure from some savage Tyger art thou sprung—
“No: Tygers feed, and fawn upon their Young:
“But thou despisest all paternal Cares,
“The Fate of Infants, and their Mother's Pray'rs.”

In vain she does her wretched State deplore;
Pleas'd with the Gold, he gladly quits the Shore;
The ruffling Winds dilate the Sails, the Ship
Divides the Waves, and skims along the Deep.
Three Days the bellying Canvas gently swells,
Clear shines the Sun, and friendly blow the Gales;
Then frowning Clouds invest the vaulted Sky,
And hollow Winds proclaim a Tempest nigh:
Fierce Boreas loudly o'er the Ocean roars,
Smoke the white Waves, and sound the adverse Shores;
While, to increase the Horrors of the Main,
Descends a Deluge of impetuous Rain.
The giddy Ship on circling Eddies rides,
Toss'd, and retoss'd, the Sport of Winds and Tides.
Redoubled Peals of roaring Thunder roll,
And Flames, conflicting, flash from Pole to Pole,
While guilty Thoughts distract Avaro's Soul.
Of Life despairing, tho' afraid to die,
One fatal Effort yet he means to try:
While all the busy Crew, with panting Breath,
Were lab'ring to repel the liquid Death;
Avaro from the Stern the Boat divides,
And yields up to the Fury of the Tides:
Toss'd on the boist'rous Wave, the Vessel flies,
Now sinking low, now mounting to the Skies;
Till soon the Storm decreas'd, and, by degrees,
Hush'd were the Winds, and calm the ruffled Seas;
The Sailers safely steer their Course again,
And leave Avaro floating on the Main;
Who landed quickly on a lonely Isle,
Where human Feet ne'er print the baleful Soil;
A dreary Wilderness was all appear'd,
And howling Wolves the only Sound he heard;
A thousand Deaths he views before his Eyes,
A thousand Guilt-created Fiends arise;
A conscious Hell within his Bosom burns,
And racks his tortur'd Soul, while thus he mourns:

“Curs'd be the Precepts of my selfish Sire,
“Who bad me after fatal Gold aspire!
“Curs'd be myself, and doubly curs'd, who sold
“A faithful Friend, to gain that fatal Gold!—
“O! could these gloomy Woods my Sin conceal,
“Or in my Bosom quench this firy Hell;
“Here would I pine my wretched Life away,
“Or to the hungry Savage fall a Prey—
“But can the gloomy Woods conceal my Sin,
“Or cooling Shadows quench the Hell within?
“No; like some Spirit banish'd Heav'n, I find
“Terrors in ev'ry Place, to rack my Mind;
“Tormenting conscious Plagues increase my Care,
“And guilty Thoughts indulge my just Despair—
“O! where shall I that piercing Eye evade,
“That scans the Depths of Hell's tremendous Shade?”

So saying, straight he gave a hideous Glare,
With rolling Eyes, that witness'd strong Despair:
Then drew his pointed Weapon from the Sheath,
Confus'dly wild, and all his Thoughts on Death;
To pierce his trembling Heart he thrice essay'd,
And thrice his coward Arm deny'd its Aid:
Meanwhile a howling Wolf, with Hunger prest,
Leap'd on the Wretch, and seiz'd him by the Breast;
Tore out his Heart, and lick'd the purple Flood;
For Earth refus'd to drink the Villain's Blood.