University of Virginia Library


13

YARICO TO INKLE.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

INKLE is preparing to set out for England, after having sold YARICO to a merchant at Barbadoes, ‘not withstanding that the poor Girl, (says the Spectator) to incline him to commiserate her condition, told him that she was with child by him: but he only made use of that information, to rise in his demands upon the purchaser.’

With falsehood lurking in thy sordid breast,
And perj'ry's seal upon thy heart imprest,
Dar'st thou, Oh Christian! brave the sounding waves,
The treach'rous whirlwinds, and untrophied graves?
Regardless of my woes, securely go,
No curse-fraught accents from these lips shall flow:
My fondest wish shall catch thy flying sail,
Attend thy course, and urge the fav'ring gale:
May ev'ry bliss thy God confers be thine,
And all thy share of woe compris'd in mine.

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One humble boon is all I now implore,
Allow these feet to print their kindred shore:
Give me, Oh Albion's son! again to roam,
For thee deserted, my delightful home:
To view the groves that deck my native scene,
The limpid stream, that graceful glides between:
Retrieve the fame I spurn'd at Love's decree,
Ascend the throne which I forsook for thee:
Approach the bow'r—(why starts th' unbidden tear?)
Where once thy Yarico to thee was dear.
The scenes the hand of Time has thrown behind,
Return impetuous to my busy mind:
‘What hostile vessel quits the roaring tide
‘To harbour here its tempest-beaten side?
‘Behold the beach receives the shipwreck'd crew:
‘Oh mark their strange attire and pallid hue!
‘Are these the Christians, restless sons of pride,
‘By avarice nurtur'd, to deceit allied?

15

‘Who tread with cunning step the maze of art,
‘And mask with placid looks a canker'd heart?
‘Yet note, superior to the num'rous throng,
‘(E'en as the citron humbler plants among)
‘That Youth!—Lo! beauty on his graceful brow,
‘With nameless charms bids ev'ry feature glow:
‘Ah! leave, fair stranger, this unsocial ground,
‘Where danger broods, and fury stalks around:
‘Behold thy foes advance—my steps pursue
‘To where I'll screen thee from their fatal view:
‘He comes! he comes! th' ambrosial feast prepare,
‘The fig, the palm-juice, nor th' anâna spare:
‘In spacious canisters nor fail to bring
‘The scented foliage of the blushing spring:
‘Ye graceful handmaids, dress the roseat bow'r,
‘And hail with music this auspicious hour—
‘Ah no! forbear—be ev'ry lyre unstrung,
‘More pleasing music warbles from his tongue;
‘Yet utter not to me the lover's vow,
‘All, all is thine that Friendship can bestow:

16

‘Our laws, my station, check the guilty flame—
‘Why was I born, ye powers, a Nubian dame?
‘Yet see around, at Love's enchanting call,
‘Stern laws submit, and vain distinctions fall:
‘And mortals then enjoy life's transient day,
‘When smit with passion they indulge the sway:
‘Yes! crown'd with bliss, we'll roam the conscious grove,
‘And drink long draughts of unexhausted love:
‘Nor joys alone, thy dangers too I'll share,
‘With thee the menace of the waves I'll dare:
‘In vain—for smiles his brow deep frowns involve,
‘The sacred ties of Gratitude dissolve,
‘See Faith distracted rends her comely hair,
‘His fading vows while tainted zephyrs bear!’
Oh thou, before whose seraph-guarded throne
The Christians bow, and other Gods disown,
If, wrapt in darkness, thou deny'st thy ray,
And shroud'st from Nubia thy celestial day!

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Indulge this fervent pray'r, to thee address'd,
Indulge, tho' utter'd from a sable breast:
May gath'ring storms eclipse the chearful skies,
And mad'ning furies from thy hell arise:
With glaring torches meet his impious brow,
And drag him howling to the gulf below!—
Ah no! May Heav'n's bright messengers descend,
Obey his call, his ev'ry wish attend!
Still o'er his form their hov'ring wings display!
If he be blest, these pangs admit allay:
Me still her mark let angry Fortune deem,
So thou may'st walk beneath her cloudless beam.
Yet oft to my rapt ear didst thou repeat,
That I suffic'd to frame thy bliss compleat.
Deluded sex! the dupes of man decreed,
We, splendid victims, at his altar bleed.
The grateful accents of thy praiseful tongue,
Where artful flatt'ry too persuasive hung,
Like flow'rs adorn'd the path to my disgrace,
And bade Destruction wear a smiling face.

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Yet form'd by Nature in her choicest mould,
While on thy cheek her blushing charms unfold,
Who could oppose to thee stern Virtue's shield?
What tender virgin would not wish to yield?
But pleasure on the wings of Time was born,
And I expos'd a prey to tyrant scorn.
Of low-born traders—mark the hand of fate!—
Is Yarico reduc'd to grace the state,
Whose impious parents, an advent'rous band,
Imbru'd with guiltless blood my native land:
E'en snatch'd my father from his regal seat,
And stretch'd him breathless at their hostile feet!
Ill-fated prince! The Christians sought thy shore,
Unsheath'd the sword, and mercy was no more.
But thou, fair stranger, cam'st with gentler mind
To shun the perils of the wrecking wind.
Amidst thy foes thy safety still I plan'd,
And reach'd for galling chains the myrtle band:

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Nor then unconscious of the secret fire,
Each heart voluptuous throb'd with warm desire:
Ah pleasing youth, kind object of my care,
Companion, Friend, and ev'ry name that's dear!
Say, from thy mind canst thou so soon remove
The records graven by the hand of Love?
How as we wanton'd on the flow'ry ground,
The loose-rob'd pleasures danc'd unblam'd around:
Till to the sight the growing burden prov'd
How thou o'ercam'st—and how, alas! I lov'd!
Too fatal proof! since thou with av'rice fraught,
Didst basely urge (ah! shun the wounding thought!)
That tender circumstance—reveal it not,
Lest torn with rage I curse my fated lot:
Lest startled Reason abdicate her reign,
And Madness revel in this heated brain:
That tender circumstance—inhuman part—
I will not weep, tho' serpents gnaw this heart:
Frail, frail resolve! while gushing from mine eye
The pearly drops these boastful words belie.

20

Alas! can Sorrow in this bosom sleep,
Where strikes Ingratitude her talons deep?
When he whom still I love, to Nature dead,
Stabs Pleasure as she mounts the nuptial bed?
What time his guardian pow'r I most requir'd,
Against my fame and happiness conspir'd!
And (do I live to breathe the barb'rous tale?)
His faithful Yarico expos'd to sale!
Yes, basely urg'd, (regardless of my pray'rs,
E'en while I bath'd his venal hand with tears)
The tend'rest circumstance—I can no more—
My future child—to swell his impious store:—
All, all mankind for this will rise thy foe,
But I, alas! alone endure the woe:
Endure what healing balms can ne'er controul,
The heart-lodg'd stings and agony of soul.—
Was it for this I left my native plain,
And dar'd the tempest brooding on the main?
For this unlock'd (seduc'd by Christian art)
The chaste affections of my virgin heart?

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Within this bosom fan'd the constant flame,
And fondly languish'd for a Mother's name?
Lo! ev'ry hope is poison'd in its bloom,
And horrors watch around this guilty womb.
With blood illustrious circling thro' these veins,
Which ne'er was chequer'd with plebeian stains,
Thro' ancestry's long line ennobled springs,
From fame-crown'd warriors and exalted kings,
Must I the shafts of Infamy sustain?
To Slav'ry's purposes my Infant train?
To catch the glances of his haughty lord?
Attend obedient at the festive board?
From hands unscepter'd take the scornful blow?
Uproot the thoughts of glory as they grow?
Let this pervade at length thy heart of steel;
Yet, yet return, nor blush, oh man! to feel:
Ah! guide thy steps from yon expecting fleet,
Thine injur'd Yarico relenting meet:

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Bid her recline, woe-stricken, on thy breast,
And hush her raging sorrows into rest!
If Pity's voice can't wake thy torpid soul,
Let Terror her impending thunder roll:—
'Twas night—my solitary couch I press'd,
Till sorrow-worn I wearied into rest:
Methought—nor was it childish Fancy's flight—
My country's Genius stood confess'd to sight:
‘Let Europe's sons (he said) enrich their shore
‘With stones of lustre, and barbaric ore:
‘Adorn their country with their splendid stealth,
‘Unnative foppery, and gorgeous wealth;
‘Embellish still her form with foreign spoils,
‘Till like a gaudy prostitute she smiles:
‘The day, th' avenging day at length shall rise,
‘And tears shall trickle from that harlot's eyes:
‘Her own Gods shall prepare the fatal doom
‘Lodg'd in Time's pregnant and destructive womb:

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‘The mischief-bearing womb, these hands shall rend,
‘And straight shall issue forth Confusion's fiend.’
Say, Albion youth, flow all my words in vain,
Like seeds that strew the rude ungrateful plain?
Say, shall I ne'er regain thy wonted grace?
Ne'er stretch these arms to catch the wish'd embrace?
Enough—with new-awak'd resentment fraught
Assist me, Heav'n! to tear him from my thought:
No longer vainly suppliant will I bow,
And give to love, what I to hatred owe;
Forgetful of the race from whence I came,
With woe acquainted, but unknown to shame.
Hence, vile Dejection, with thy plaintive pray'r,
Thy bended knee, and still descending tear:
Rejoin, rejoin the pale-complexion'd train—
The conflict's past—and I'm myself again.
Thou parent Sun! if e'er with pious lay
I usher'd in thy world-reviving ray!

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Or as thy fainter beams illum'd the west,
With grateful voice I hymn'd thee to thy rest!
Beheld, with wond'ring eye, thy radiant seat,
Or sought thy sacred dome with unclad feet!
If near to thy bright altars as I drew,
My votive lamb thy holy Flamen slew!
Forgive! that I, irrev'rent of thy name,
Dar'd for thy foe indulge th' unhallow'd flame:
E'en on a Christian lavish'd my esteem,
And scorn'd the sable children of thy beam.
This poniard, by my daring hand imprest,
Shall drink the ruddy drops that warm my breast:
Nor I alone, by this immortal deed
From Slav'ry's laws my infant shall be freed.
And thou, whose ear is deaf to Pity's call,
Behold at length thy destin'd victim fall;
Behold thy once-lov'd Nubian stain'd with gore,
Unwept, extended on the crimson floor:
These temples clouded with the shades of death,
These lips unconscious of the ling'ring breath:

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These eyes uprais'd (ere clos'd by Fate's decree)
To catch expiring one faint glimpse of thee.
Ah! then thy Yarico forbear to dread,
My fault'ring voice no longer will upbraid,
Demand due vengeance of the pow'rs above,
Or, more offensive still, implore thy love.