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THE DEATH OF THE SLAVE LEWIS.
In the deep sanctuary of sheltering night,
Kept by the angels of the stars serene,
The meanest hireling holds his vested right—
Mourner, slave, culprit, lose from thought and sight
The weight of grief that shall be, or hath been.
Kept by the angels of the stars serene,
The meanest hireling holds his vested right—
Mourner, slave, culprit, lose from thought and sight
The weight of grief that shall be, or hath been.
Within its walls young lovers tune their strings,
And ravished saints breathe adoration deep;
But softly prayer and song unfold their wings,
Lest ev'n the full heart's upward murmurings
Too rudely cross the silver spell of sleep.
And ravished saints breathe adoration deep;
But softly prayer and song unfold their wings,
Lest ev'n the full heart's upward murmurings
Too rudely cross the silver spell of sleep.
From out that holy realm of night a shriek,
As of a soul in Hades, rent the veil
Of silence—then a prophet seemed to speak,
To anger roused—not ‘Turn the unsmitten cheek,’
But, ‘Blood for blood!’ answered the dismal wail.
As of a soul in Hades, rent the veil
Of silence—then a prophet seemed to speak,
To anger roused—not ‘Turn the unsmitten cheek,’
But, ‘Blood for blood!’ answered the dismal wail.
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And then I heard a piteous creature lift
His agonizing pleadings where he stood
Bound, naked, marked with many a bloody rift,
While blows urged out, in torture cries, his shrift
To one with drunken fury in his blood.
His agonizing pleadings where he stood
Bound, naked, marked with many a bloody rift,
While blows urged out, in torture cries, his shrift
To one with drunken fury in his blood.
The brute but flogged the harder for his cry;
It gave the horrid sport a keener zest:
It is appointed once for man to die;
But what the crime, the agony, say I,
When twenty murders tear one bleeding breast?
It gave the horrid sport a keener zest:
It is appointed once for man to die;
But what the crime, the agony, say I,
When twenty murders tear one bleeding breast?
‘They beat him with a broad, flat thong’—'tis urged—
‘For all security of life and limb.’
Brethren, was He, by whom men's sins are purged,
Ev'n thus with a broad leather merely scourged,
Why waste our womanish hearts their throbs on him?
‘For all security of life and limb.’
Brethren, was He, by whom men's sins are purged,
Ev'n thus with a broad leather merely scourged,
Why waste our womanish hearts their throbs on him?
Blows rained upon him till his yielding brain
Had fashioned out the tale they wished to learn
In dreadful inspiration of his pain—
They left him, gibbet-wise, within his chain,
To scourge a brother victim, and return.
Had fashioned out the tale they wished to learn
In dreadful inspiration of his pain—
They left him, gibbet-wise, within his chain,
To scourge a brother victim, and return.
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They set a man to watch him, they aver,
Who, as men will, forsook his misery;
But while he staid, unless his statement err,
Not rest nor healing craved the sufferer;
But, ‘Can you lend me any help to die?’
Who, as men will, forsook his misery;
But while he staid, unless his statement err,
Not rest nor healing craved the sufferer;
But, ‘Can you lend me any help to die?’
Blind Nature has an instinct to be free;
Despair is mighty, though her hands be tied;
Howe'er he bowed his head and bent the knee,
(The action has a dark sublimity,)
The black man gathered up his strength, and died.
Despair is mighty, though her hands be tied;
Howe'er he bowed his head and bent the knee,
(The action has a dark sublimity,)
The black man gathered up his strength, and died.
They left thee, Lewis, with thy wounds all warm;
But when they came to heap thy measure o'er,
Free in the fetters hung thy passive form.
Oh! theirs the crime, if in hate's wildest storm
Thy soul, unbidden, sought th' eternal shore.
But when they came to heap thy measure o'er,
Free in the fetters hung thy passive form.
Oh! theirs the crime, if in hate's wildest storm
Thy soul, unbidden, sought th' eternal shore.
Priests tell us of the guilt of suicide—
Let the word pause upon the untried tongue!
They stormed life's citadel, ill-fortified,
Till the vexed soul fled, powerless to abide,
And Death's pale flag of truce aloft was flung.
Let the word pause upon the untried tongue!
They stormed life's citadel, ill-fortified,
Till the vexed soul fled, powerless to abide,
And Death's pale flag of truce aloft was flung.
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Death was thy champion: 'neath his icy shield
Thy rescued body laughed the whip to scorn;
While by those wound-mouths, never to be sealed,
Thy soul unto the Ever Just appealed,
Cried out to God, ‘Remember what I've borne!’
Thy rescued body laughed the whip to scorn;
While by those wound-mouths, never to be sealed,
Thy soul unto the Ever Just appealed,
Cried out to God, ‘Remember what I've borne!’
Where stays avenging Justice? Why compel
Our hearts to seek her in th' abyss below?
Shuddering, our eyes look downwards for a hell,
Since Judge and Jury's fiat flatly fell:
‘A slave the victim? Let the white man go!’
Our hearts to seek her in th' abyss below?
Shuddering, our eyes look downwards for a hell,
Since Judge and Jury's fiat flatly fell:
‘A slave the victim? Let the white man go!’
It is no murder when unsanctioned force
Wastes a poor negro's life beneath the thong
In your brave South. Where freer law has course,
A man who toys too rudely with his horse
Is held a culprit, and acquits the wrong.
Wastes a poor negro's life beneath the thong
In your brave South. Where freer law has course,
A man who toys too rudely with his horse
Is held a culprit, and acquits the wrong.
But there must be a hell, as thou shalt know
By all its furies loosed within thy breast.
Remorse shall feed on thee his hunger slow;
Or, art thou for her craving sunk too low,
Spectres of fear shall scare thee from thy rest.
By all its furies loosed within thy breast.
Remorse shall feed on thee his hunger slow;
Or, art thou for her craving sunk too low,
Spectres of fear shall scare thee from thy rest.
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The curse of Cain shall hunt thy wandering thought
To frantic haste, to fainting weariness.
Lookest thou earthward, blood is there unsought;
Skyward, the clouds th' avenging hue have caught,
And mock, like crimson monsters, thy distress.
To frantic haste, to fainting weariness.
Lookest thou earthward, blood is there unsought;
Skyward, the clouds th' avenging hue have caught,
And mock, like crimson monsters, thy distress.
Scourging for scourging, but in keener kind;
And death for death, but in a living grave;
While, from th' uneasy torment of thy mind,
Thou shalt behold and envy, peace enshrined,
The placid phantom of thy murdered slave.
And death for death, but in a living grave;
While, from th' uneasy torment of thy mind,
Thou shalt behold and envy, peace enshrined,
The placid phantom of thy murdered slave.
Ev'n though thou babble from the mystic book,
And taste the sacred symbols of thy creed,
Let Christ's black brother from the altar look,
Faint, falter, 'neath his withering rebuke—
The heavenly food can poison, too, at need.
And taste the sacred symbols of thy creed,
Let Christ's black brother from the altar look,
Faint, falter, 'neath his withering rebuke—
The heavenly food can poison, too, at need.
I pause, unwilling further to rehearse
Thy meeds, or shut thee from God's clemency;
Rather I'll weep, and wish thee nothing worse
Than that, returning blessing for thy curse,
Thy victim's soul may plead with God for thee.
Thy meeds, or shut thee from God's clemency;
Rather I'll weep, and wish thee nothing worse
Than that, returning blessing for thy curse,
Thy victim's soul may plead with God for thee.
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