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Humanity, or the rights of nature, a poem

in two books. By the author of sympathy [i.e. S. J. Pratt]

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 I. 
 II. 

If thou would'st Negro tenderness behold,
Seek with the Muse the coast where broods the gold,
A Briton there—immortal be his name,
By pity's Angel mark'd with endless fame!
A Briton there, an Indian Infant found,
For savage rites by superstition bound,
The Negro King amidst the croud he sought,
And at the Sacrifice the victim bought,
Then to the Ship his trembling Charge convey'd,
While all the sable train with awe survey'd;
But scarce the Babe was plac'd upon the deck,
Than loud was heard a female's piercing shriek,
“'Tis he! 'tis he! it is the babe I bore,
“Whom savage Acqua from this bosom tore,
“Ah! come my own—resume thy couch of rest,
“And cling once more to this maternal breast,

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“Blest be the hand, by Egho form'd to save,
“Thrice blest the Hand that led me here a slave,
“Blest be the Author of these transports wild,
“And blest the power which has restor'd my Child!”
She could no more, but still the speaking eye,
Own'd the rich gift of sweet HUMANITY!
 

Snelgrave.