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129
THE SLAVE MOTHER'S CRIME.
“Yes, I'm guilty,” the woman said,
And tossed with pride her shapely head,
Her flashing eye looked fierce the while,
Her teeth gleamed through a scornful smile,
As up she raised her fettered hands,
Imprisoned with the iron bands.
And wildly heaved her throbbing breast,
Close to the council rail she pressed,
Then turned, the accusing court to face,
No sign of pity could she trace;
Each eye was set with stony stare,
On her, the picture of despair.
And tossed with pride her shapely head,
Her flashing eye looked fierce the while,
Her teeth gleamed through a scornful smile,
As up she raised her fettered hands,
Imprisoned with the iron bands.
And wildly heaved her throbbing breast,
Close to the council rail she pressed,
Then turned, the accusing court to face,
No sign of pity could she trace;
Each eye was set with stony stare,
On her, the picture of despair.
“Unbind me, men, there is no need,
These iron chains, I did the deed,
If ye be men, unbind me now,
I did the deed, I'll tell you how.”
The white child lay upon my breast,
As like a birdling in its nest,
An nursed my blood and cooed in glee,
And when I smiled, smiled back at me.
These iron chains, I did the deed,
If ye be men, unbind me now,
I did the deed, I'll tell you how.”
The white child lay upon my breast,
As like a birdling in its nest,
An nursed my blood and cooed in glee,
And when I smiled, smiled back at me.
Think you I had no mother love?
That priceless thing all else above,
I fondled it, and ere 'twas long,
The weakling babe grew hale and strong;
And when I held it on my knee,
How strangely would it look at me;
I looked into its deep blue eyes,
And saw contempt for me arise,
For me—its mother—black as night,
Was hateful in the white child's sight.
That priceless thing all else above,
I fondled it, and ere 'twas long,
The weakling babe grew hale and strong;
And when I held it on my knee,
How strangely would it look at me;
I looked into its deep blue eyes,
And saw contempt for me arise,
For me—its mother—black as night,
Was hateful in the white child's sight.
The master's blood in every vein,
For the black mother held disdain,
His lips would curl in scornful mirth,
Of the black source which gave him birth.
How could I nurse my child with pride,
A mother ere I'd been a bride,
And in the “great house” over there,
Another babe lay sweet and fair,
The proud white mother's babe for him.
As like my own as any twin.
For the black mother held disdain,
His lips would curl in scornful mirth,
Of the black source which gave him birth.
How could I nurse my child with pride,
A mother ere I'd been a bride,
130
Another babe lay sweet and fair,
The proud white mother's babe for him.
As like my own as any twin.
I toiled all day, neath the fiery skies,
No time to soothe my infant's cries,
And in the field with me close by,
Another toiled, whose manly eye
Looked on in pity not in blame,
With charity upon my shame;
He always helped me do my task,
And for my love one day did ask
The master, who this answer gave,
A laugh of scorn—no, she's my slave.
No time to soothe my infant's cries,
And in the field with me close by,
Another toiled, whose manly eye
Looked on in pity not in blame,
With charity upon my shame;
He always helped me do my task,
And for my love one day did ask
The master, who this answer gave,
A laugh of scorn—no, she's my slave.
Jack pined, and to his death soon went,
With pain his anguished heart was rent,
I sorely grieved but could not die,
And as the days passed slowly by,
My life with sorrow shadowed o'er,
'Twas then this fearful vow I swore;
Out in the darkness I could see
Jack's welcome arms awaiting me,
The white child only lay between
Jack's open arms and joy supreme.
With pain his anguished heart was rent,
I sorely grieved but could not die,
And as the days passed slowly by,
My life with sorrow shadowed o'er,
'Twas then this fearful vow I swore;
Out in the darkness I could see
Jack's welcome arms awaiting me,
The white child only lay between
Jack's open arms and joy supreme.
It would not die, I wished it so,
That I at length to Jack might go,
I wished it so, it would not die,
To Jack and freedom I might fly;
My hate was strong, I prayed each day
That death would take the child away,
For if the bastard child should live,
What could a poor slave mother give,
For often had the master sold,
His flesh and blood for love of gold.
That I at length to Jack might go,
I wished it so, it would not die,
To Jack and freedom I might fly;
My hate was strong, I prayed each day
That death would take the child away,
For if the bastard child should live,
What could a poor slave mother give,
For often had the master sold,
His flesh and blood for love of gold.
And as the days went slowly past,
My heart seemed turned to stone at last,
Down in the dark and shaded wood,
Beside a stream and old oak stood,
Close by the rocks lay grey and bare,
Black fell the slanting shadows there,
I took the child close to my breast,
A moment, loath with it to part,
A mother's love awoke again,
How could I see the infant slain?
My heart seemed turned to stone at last,
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Beside a stream and old oak stood,
Close by the rocks lay grey and bare,
Black fell the slanting shadows there,
I took the child close to my breast,
A moment, loath with it to part,
A mother's love awoke again,
How could I see the infant slain?
Were it not better it should die,
While yet a babe, than live like I
Had lived to be the white man's slave?
Yes, better far the quiet grave,
How should it die? This I must choose,
I must be quick, no time to loose,
The wind blew keen across the wold,
I shuddered for the night was cold,
And laid the child upon the ground,
Then with two stones I dug around
The roots of that decaying tree,
The moist soil moved easily.
While yet a babe, than live like I
Had lived to be the white man's slave?
Yes, better far the quiet grave,
How should it die? This I must choose,
I must be quick, no time to loose,
The wind blew keen across the wold,
I shuddered for the night was cold,
And laid the child upon the ground,
Then with two stones I dug around
The roots of that decaying tree,
The moist soil moved easily.
My thread-bare shawl I snatched away,
And took the child from where it lay,
My apron, too, was strong and stout,
I wrapped him tight and close and warm,
That here forever safe from harm,
While white-robed angels watch would keep,
O'er this, the infant's last long sleep.
And took the child from where it lay,
My apron, too, was strong and stout,
I wrapped him tight and close and warm,
That here forever safe from harm,
While white-robed angels watch would keep,
O'er this, the infant's last long sleep.
Into the earthen cradle scooped,
I placed the child who soundly slept,
Then to the meadow soft I crept,
And stole a covering for the child;
Above his little grave I strewed
The hay, what if his bed were rude?
When he should wake it would be light
In heaven with angels pure and bright.
I placed the child who soundly slept,
Then to the meadow soft I crept,
And stole a covering for the child;
Above his little grave I strewed
The hay, what if his bed were rude?
When he should wake it would be light
In heaven with angels pure and bright.
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Now ye know all the dreadful tale,
Ha, ye are cowards poor and pale,
What, do I see a shining tear?
Now do your worst, I have no fear,
I scorn your pity, I a slave,
Can die as bravest of the brave.
Quick, pass the sentence, I would fain
Be happy with my Jack again.
Her breath came quick, and then in gasps,
Around the room one glance she casts,
Low on her bosom dropped her head,
One cry of pain, and she lay dead.
Ha, ye are cowards poor and pale,
What, do I see a shining tear?
Now do your worst, I have no fear,
I scorn your pity, I a slave,
Can die as bravest of the brave.
Quick, pass the sentence, I would fain
Be happy with my Jack again.
Her breath came quick, and then in gasps,
Around the room one glance she casts,
Low on her bosom dropped her head,
One cry of pain, and she lay dead.
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