University of Virginia Library

BOOK II.

Proud of the contrast, with indignant lay,
Once more O Muse, to Gallia bend thy way;
Explore yon Cavern, frowning on the sight,
When one faint lamp sends forth a sickly light!
Through folds of darkness where yon wicket glooms,
Perfidious Power has scoop'd the living tombs,
Along the filth that oozes from the walls
The slimy snail, with track abhorent crawls,
And oft, augmenting poisons, from the top,
With sullen sound, falls slow the withering drop.
The pestilential toad that squats below
Gathers fresh venom as those poisons flow:
Here, many a fathom down, despotic Rage
Hung human victims in the dreadful cage;
Here the poor Captive, torn from child and wife,
From youth to age, groan'd out detested life;
Nor nature's sun, nor arts supplying blaze,
E're stole one beam of comfort on his days,
Nor human form, nor human hand was nigh,
To sooth the grief that gather'd in his eye,
Save one brief glance of man, as thro' the hole
His daily bread, the silent goaler stole,
No human voice beguil'd the endless night
That cruel shut him from creation's light!
To sooth a mistress wanton Louis gave,
To one who dar'd be just, this lingering grave,
To one who dare a prostitute pourtray,
And bring his honest Satire into day;
How sinks the heart to pace this gloomy round,
How pants the Muse to leave this tyrant ground!
But ere she turn, to Afric, let her fly,
Where slav'ry blooms beneath the fairest sky;
To desolated Asia, once the blest
In every charm of lavish nature dress'd,
Where favor'd Paradise, heav'n-planted, stood
A scene of wonders rising from the flood,
The holy spot by all the prophets trod,
Seat of the saints, and sojourn of the God,
Where Faith her Christian temples rear'd around,
And blood of Martyrs sanctified the ground,
Where ev'n Redemption like a Cherub came,
And Revelation, spread th'enlight'ning flame.
But oh! thou Land, of Heav'n itself belov'd,
What dire events, what changes hast thou prov'd?
How has time alter'd ev'ry charm of youth,
Since first thou heard'st the oracles of truth!
Forgot the Heavenly claims that once were thine,
Forgot the precepts breath'd from lips divine;
Vain all the fathers, all a saviour taught,
And God expell'd for what th'Imposter brought,
A sensual creed by a mock prophet prais'd,
The sacred Bible sunk, the Koran rais'd,
Disgrac'd the truths, which all th'Apostles gave,
Thy Prince a tyrant, and Thyself a slave!
Ah! what avails thy medicinal floods,
Thy citron breezes, and thy palmy woods,
What tho' the Cassia breathes along thy shore,
And trickling manner adds its essenc'd store;
Tho' gums balsamic in thy vallies grow,
And both the India's in thy region glow,
Thine, tho' Olympus, dear from classic fame,
And honour'd Hermon, a more holy name;
Tho' the tall Cedar decks thy fragrant shrine,
And lofty Lebanon himself be thine,
From fair Euphrates ev'n to Jordan's wave,
Tho' thy rich Coast the hallow'd waters lave,
And tho' thy fruits, voluptuously, dispense
A keener relish to th'invited sense,
Tho' on thy flowers a bolder bloom prevail
And send more piercing odour to the gale,
And tho' thy skies, yet salient and serene,
Call fair Hygea to the tempting scene,
All, all these blessings a strong balance find
In one broad curse that seizes on thy kind;
Nor this the pest that oft has thinn'd thy plains,
A plague more fatal in thy Tyrant reigns.
Fierce thro' the East see Despotism run
More fell, more fatal, than the torrid sun,
Frantic before him move a sanguine band,
The ruthless agents of his murd'rous hand;
Skulking behind, in dumb allegiance wait,
Nurs'd up in blood, his various tools of fate,
To torture life, and hideous deaths devise
In varied shapes of cruelty they rise!
Dey, Sultan, Signior, Emperor and King,
Chief, Visier, Cailif, each inferior Thing;
Some do his bidding in the noon of day,
And some at midnight seize upon their prey;
Submission, terror, chastisement, combine,
To sink the abject vassal to the swine,
Reason below degraded instinct falls,
And Man is bound like herds within the stalls,
His spirit dies subdued by hard controul,
The useless body moves without a soul;
No spark of heav'nly fire the mass can warm,
Nor public virtue touch, nor private charm,
But general cowardice, by horror bred
Courage unstrung, and manly honour dead;
For oh! the dart, the gibbet, and the wheel
Are the least terrors that a slave can feel,
Of these the anguish scarce can rage its hour
Ere Death appears in soft relief of power,
Death, a kind refuge in the last despair,
But a long life of slavery who can bear?
Lo Persia's tyrant, with unnatural strife
To please a minion robs a child of life,
With savage rage can blind the first-born son,
And partial lift a second to the throne;
When the proud Sopha has consign'd to death
'Tis treason but to beg a parent's breath,
The sentence past, the look that aims to save,
Condemns to equal fate the pitying slave,
Sensual religion aids the tyrants will,
And blood for ever reeks along the steel;
In dire suspence, like Damocles's sword,
By a slight thread hangs life—a tyrant's word,
Imposts and Edict vex the groaning land,
And ev'n the fountain flows but at command.
In dread Mogul the laws must all be bought
Ere the case opens must a gift be brought,
The greedy Emperor ope's his craving hand,
And Justice, driv'n by Av'rice, quits the land;
Nay, yet more brief, the Turkish powers decide,
For there the Judge condemns th'accus'd untried,
There turns the suit as wills the proud Bashaw,
Who holds the place of destiny and law;
This god of earth, and brother of the Sun
Breaks up the court before the case be known,
Or strikes the head from some officious slave,
Who at the bloody verdict dares be grave.
Yet here the tyrant's self is insecure,
For no succession to the Crown is sure,
A race of strangled kindred pave the way,
And oft the scepter'd slave is made a prey;
O Hapless Asia, whilst such horror reigns,
What British Muse will rest upon thy plains?
Yet should she steer again to Afric's sand
There too she sees Oppression lifts his hand,
Within the tropics fiercer than the blaze,
That fires the earth, with iron rod he sways,
Ev'n from the fertile Nile to Niger's waves,
'Tis but a change of tyrants and of slaves.
O pride enormous! impudence of man!
But let not Britons imitate the plan,
Frame no false systems and then call them wise,
Or make distinctions where no difference lies,
Alas! full oft the European face
Masks a mind darker than the darkest race;
The Negro's heart may be a purer shrine,
For thoughts devout O! haughty White, than thine,
Acceptance find more gracious from its God,
Than the proud master who uplifts the rod,
His prayer to holy Kanno more prevail
To the great Spirit whispering in the gale,
His pious vows to Quoja 'midst the trees
On high Bassefo walking in the breeze,
These may more virtue and more truth impart,
Than Christian incense from a savage heart,
And his wild Tambour beat to idol shouts,
To heav'n ascend before the organ's notes;
Say, what the pomps of science or of prayer,
If the poor Indian's fervor glows not there?
In different forms tho' men the God adore,
Shap'd as the brute or painted as the flow'r,
As marble here, and there as feathers seen,
There the birds bone, and here the fishes fin,
Each, as it marks sincerity shall rise,
And welcome find in the recording skies,
Shall more be cherish'd by the powers of Heav'n
Than less true worship where more aids are giv'n,
Than the mock homage of th'enlighten'd train,
For whom a Saviour liv'd and died in vain.
A doctrine this too harsh for human pride,
Resort to facts and be the doctrine try'd,
With faithful hand, cull'd from th'historic page,
Proofs throng to proofs might vanquish Christian rage;
Oh! tyrant White, forget awhile thy gold,
And every virtue in thy Black behold,
All that is honour'd, lov'd, or priz'd in thee,
In thy scourg'd Negro blushing shalt thou see.
Lo, as the Muse to Anticosta steers,
Mid'st the wild waves HUMANITY appears!
Escap'd the wreck, although their barks were lost,
Whole crews were dash'd upon a savage coast;
The coast, tho' savage, there the Christians find,
Each God-like feeling in an Indian mind,
For touch'd by cries that pierc'd the piny wood,
The natives sought the margin of the flood,
Then as th'expiring Christians caught their view,
To human grief the generous Indians flew,
The social passion glowing in his face,
Thus spoke a Chieftain of the sable race:
“Haste children haste, behold where brothers lie,—
“Rise strangers rise, the hand of help is nigh:
“Men like ourselves throughout the globe command,
“The shelt'ring bosom and the aiding hand,
“All, all are kinsmen of a different hue,
“Our faces vary, but our hearts are true;
“Ye poor white wanderers on our bounty thrown,
“Your griefs are sacred and your wants our own.”
This said, he gently to his Cottage led,
Smil'd on his guests and yielded up his bed;
Then watch'd till morn, a guardian at the door
Bless'd and was blessed—could a Christian more?
To trace each Virtue thro' the sultry Sands,
Next Negro Honour all thy praise demands,
In Cujoe's generous soul it meets the view,
And darts a glory thro' his tawny hue.
A band of Christian pirates sought the shore,
And many an Indian from their forests bore,
One soe, to Cujoe's cot was seen to fly,
Pierc'd by a dart, he begg'd in peace to die;
But soon the Tribes pursue, demand their prey,
“Scalp, scalp that wretch, they cry, in open day!
“Cujoe conceals the Man whose blood is ours,
“'Tis not our rage, 'tis justice that devours.”
Mean time th'exhausted Christian gasp'd for breath
When Cujoe rose, and stopp'd th'impending death:
“My Friends forbear, the guilty seek and slay,
“Pursue the race that stole our tribes away,
“May Ocean whelm them in the deepest wave,
“The guilty punish, but the blameless save!
“Of Guest and friend, ah! reverence the ties,
“Lo, this sick Christian on my faith relies,
“Here, in the rights of Friendship shall he rest,
“My arm his buckler, and his shield my breast
“This Cot his Citadel, and ere he die
“Here must your hatchets fall, your arrows fly!”
Honour prevail'd, their passions dy'd away,
And safe in Cujoe's hut the Christian lay.
Next let us speed to yonder sainted plains,
By mountains screen'd and crown'd with dulcet canes,
Where the mad Ouragan in phrenzy roars,
Affrights the Isle, and desolates the shores,
While many a rill and flow'ry vale between,
Smile in the storm and reconcile the scene:
See, there an Hero of the Negro line,
Boasts an high Feeling, Briton, proud as thine.
The faithful Qua-shi with his master bred
The same their mansion and the same their bed,
Together us'd in infant times to play,
Their friendship strengthen'd in life's riper day;
The slave was trusty and the lord was kind,
To Qua-shi's care the property assign'd,
His labours clos'd, he took the transient rest,
Then chid the Sun yet loit'ring in the East;
Ere peep'd the dawn his daily toils he sought,
And daily wealth to his lov'd lord he brought.
Envy at length a poison'd arrow drew,
Which wing'd with mischief to the master flew,
Of dire neglect the accusation came,
And lo, the sentence past for Qua-shi's shame,
A public punishment was now decree'd,
And the next Morn was Qua-shi doom'd to bleed:
The injur'd Slave with shudd'ring horror heard,
And at deep midnight sought his barbarous Lord,
Then wrought to agony, these words address'd,
The poignard trembling at his Master's breast.
“O Thou, whom no rememberance can move,
“Nor cradled tenderness, nor boyish love,
“Dare not to think that Qua-shi's soul will bear
“The public Insults which thy hands prepare,
“Think not the bloody Morn these eyes shall view,
“Nor think for pardon that these lips shall sue,
“No Monster, no, my soul's above my fate,
“Scorns thy proud mercy as it braves thy hate;
“Thus Tyrant, thus, thy fury I defy,
“Live Thou to Shame, while I in honour die.”
He spoke—the Poignard sluic'd the crimson flood,
And bath'd the Master in the Servant's blood.
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,
“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!
But when she heard her infant had been bought,
Ev'n as the flame its tender limbs had caught,
“O Indian God, Oh! God-like White, she said,
While o'er her sable cheek the crimson spread,
“All that a parent, all a slave can give,
“O God-like White, O Indian God receive!”
Kneeling she wept, then kiss'd her rescu'd Child,
While in her jetty arms the Infant smil'd;
Dances and Songs of Praise now struck the waves,
And one strong charm like magic touch'd the slaves,
Thro' the long voyage obedient they remain,
Nor sounding whip was heard, nor clanking chain.
Touch'd is thy heart, O Merchant of thy kind,
Does human Softness steal into thy mind?
Rous'd is the spark, too long repress'd by Gold?
Then bend thy heart to what we next unfold:
Now, while perchance the human passions move,
O view the force of Friendship and of Love,
In Negro bosoms see those powers at strife,
Which form the bliss and agony of life.
Zebron and Zabor of the jetty race,
Were first in feature and proportion'd grace,
Bright as the Antelope their radiant eyes,
As the proud Palm-tree tower'd their equal size,
Both wore alike the Tyger's speckled spoil,
Brothers in dress, in pastime and in toil;
Slaves tho' they were, ev'n Slav'ry had its charms,
For Zebron's comfort was in Zabor's arms,
And Zabor fainting on the arid sand,
Was rear'd to Joy by gentle Zebron's hand,
By bliss united much, by sorrow more,
A Negro's Fate they soften'd while they bore;
But Love, at last, a keener pang imparts,
For sable Zelia triumph'd o'er their hearts;
Her skin of Ebony bestow'd a grace,
That far outshone an alabaster face,
So thought the youths, with equal truth inspir'd,
With all their passion, all their climate fir'd;
Each scorn'd to ravish, each refus'd to yield,
And Love and Friendship both maintain'd the field,
Devouring torments spread the mutual flame,
But still their friendship, still their love the same;
When beauteous Zelia in their view appears,
Zebron and Zabor melt in mutul tears,
Oft, both embracing, to renounce her swear,
And Friendship seems to link them in despair;
At length their conflicts, big with every grief,
And ev'ry passion, sought a dire relief.
At close of day as Zelia trac'd the wood,
The Lovers follow'd and before her stood,
The wand'ring Maid too fatal in her charms,
Now snatch'd to Zebron's now to Zabor's arms;
The fondest vows that ever Lovers swore,
The deepest groans that ever heav'd they pour,
Then, with clos'd eyes, and heads declin'd, they dart,
The mutual daggers in her bounding heart;
Speechless she fell, her sobs their shrieks confound,
They clasp the victim, and they kiss the wound,
Then raise the poignards streaming in her blood,
And with their own augment the crimson flood.
Soon with his sable Brothers must he go,
“Doom'd to a sad variety of woe,”
Like harness'd Mules o'er Afric's dreadful sand,
In slow procession moves the mournful band,
The length'ning files begin their circuit wide,
While on their limbs are galling braces ty'd;
Fraught with coarse viands, see the straining throng,
Drag the oppressive caravan along,
The massy iron and the direful log,
Their naked bodies ev'n in slumber clog,
An iron collar o'er each neck is past,
And iron rivets hold the collar fast;
A tighten'd chain across each shoulder goes,
While the dark driver takes his own repose;
At length arriv'd, the miserable band
Like the stall'd oxen pass from hand to hand.
Ye friends of Man! whose souls with mercy glow,
Swell not your bosoms with this weight of woe?
Fires not the social blood within your veins,
To make the White Man feel the Negro's pains?
Beat not your hearts the miscreant arms to bind,
Of the proud Christian with a savage mind?
Dost thou not pant to snap the impious chain,
And rush to succour the insulted train?
From servile bonds, to free the hapless race,
And fix the haughty tyrants in their place?
Make them the weight of Slav'ry to know,
Till their hard natures melt at social woe,
Nor till they humanize to social men,
Would ye restore them to their rights again!
But Heav'n is just, each tyrant in his turn
Is taught the rashness of his pride to mourn,
Oft spreads his tortur'd Slave the secret snare,
And hurls his Master in the last despair,
Far from his couch the balmy slumber flies,
And from his slave unnumber'd poisons rise,
He knows to pest the herd, to blast the soil,
Perish the blossom, and the harvest spoil;
To mix the baneful juice, the fatal flower,
This sudden kills, that boasts a mining power,
He knows to scatter unsuspected fate,
While circling mischiefs on his vengeance wait,
At length he makes the Tyrant's self his prey,
And rushes on him in the face of day,
Or desperate, seizes on the child and wife,
Mad with his wrongs, and takes their forfeit life,
That thus the White man's progeny may groan,
The Tyrant's lot to balance with his own;
Oft from the cradle and the breast will tear,
Ev'n his own babes in phrenzy of despair,
With mingled rage and fondness stop their breath,
And give them freedom in the arms of death.
Oh! Freedom, sacred Goodess! who inspires
Th'untutor'd Savage with sublimest fires,
He, tho' untutor'd, rushes to the fray,
Combats for passion, and ne'er fights for pay,
While the bought soldier bargains for his breath,
A mercenary in the trade of death,
The generous Indian from his fetters broke,
Braves ev'ry peril to escape the yoke,
Freedom's worst wants prefers to Slavery's food,
And feeds from principle on Christian blood;
Oft have the Chiefs o'er listed troops prevail'd,
And Nature's warriours sped where armies fail'd;
The difference mark t'wixt those who fight for hire,
And those whom Freedom's genuine passions sire,
Nay more, when victors in the hardy fight,
Restor'd by Conquest to their native right,
Their wrongs are buried when the battle's o'er,
And former injuries are heard no more:
Yet taught distrust, ere they consent again,
With try'd deceivers Commerce to sustain,
Th'appointed Leader of the sable band,
Requires a pledge ere he extends the hand,
The blood must flow from either warriours arm,
And Earth and Water blend to form the charm;
A Vase receives the mixture—who disdains
To taste the potion no alliance gains,
Both parties drink in sign of mutual trust,
And the proud tyrant's humbled to the dust,
A stipulation vile is forc'd to crave,
And own, perforce, a Master in the Slave.
What will not Freedom's Heav'n-descended fire,
In cultur'd, or in savage Souls inspire?
The rights of Nature and of God to save,
Men scoop the rock and build upon the wave,
Explore the barren sand, the marshes drear,
And a free Cottage in the desert rear,
Delight in hollow of some cave to dwell,
Or dig thro' Earth the independent cell.
See where Marino lifts her craggy brow,
Half hid in clouds, and cover'd half with snow,
Beyond the Appenines, there Freedom reigns,
And scorns the thraldom of Italian plains;
There see untax'd the small republic grow,
And spurn the bondage of the vales below,
Close on the liberal Heav'n behold it stands,
And proud looks down on tributary lands,
What, tho' those tributary lands display
The blooming fragrance of perpetual May,
Like the coy sensitive each lovely flower,
Still seems to tremble at the touch of power.
Blest be the good Dalmatian's generous earth,
Which boasts, Oh! Rome, than thine a nobler birth,
Thou but the refuge of a robber band,
But there devotion rais'd the folded hand,
And many a century this little state
Has stood the storms of Fortune and of Fate,
Whilst thy sunk cities once the boast of Fame,
Have nought to mark them but an empty name:
What tho' no streams here lave the scant domain
But melting snows and reservoirs of rain;
Tho' hillocks scatter'd round the parent hill,
At once thy pride and penury reveal,
A narrow circuit, and a labour'd soil,
Which yields subsistance but to endless toil,
Dear is the grain that decks thy Mountains side,
Beyond the harvest of Italia's pride.
In this small spot is seen one path alone,
Where jealous freedom guides us to the town,
There, entering, arts and arms and trade we view,
For ev'ry Citizen's a soldier too;
There laws are form'd on patriot Wisdom's plan,
For ev'ry Citizen's an honest Man;
There mines no Tyrant, there no Courtiers flock,
All good is common, all is public stock,
For general happiness there all combine,
The one great aim, and all to aid it join.
Oh! sainted founder of this virtuous land,
Sublimely rais'd, I see thy statue stand,
Ev'n where the Virgin consecrates the place,
It fills with holy zeal thy generous race,
With free-born men thy Mount is cover'd o'er,
While lost Campania glooms a desert shore.
Say, what but Freedom chear'd the Savage bands,
That once o'erspread Canadia's conquer'd lands?
Wild as their woods behold uncheck'd they go,
For sport or food arm'd simply with the bow,
Save the thin Buffalo o'er their shoulders crost,
Their hardy bosoms meet unfenc'd the frost,
The casual chace their banquet and their toil,
They ask'd no bounty from the sullen soil,
If to their prayer to range at large was giv'n,
They thought unbounded liberty was Heav'n;
The Gods invok'd, their Sylvan wars to aid,
The stag was slain, the boar a captive made,
The female hunters journey'd with the men,
And fearless track'd the monster to his den,
And when at eve the warm pursuit was o'er,
Nor twang'd the bow nor sped the arrow more,
They sprung from light repose ere peep of day,
And thro' the humid desarts took their way;
Of forest growth there pamper'd sloth might view,
Nature's brave Cæsars and wise Tullys too,
Active, ferocious, bold, unaw'd, they stood,
Troops of the lake and armies of the wood,
Vers'd in no science, lesson'd in no art,
They breath'd the eloquence that reach'd the heart;
Unknown the classic pomp of pedant schools,
Their Oratory rose o'er colder rules,
It beam'd defiance in the flashing eye,
Storm'd in the shout and melted in the sigh;
In tranquil hours it gave the smile serene,
In public tumult shew'd th'indignant mien,
The vivid tone and vital glance express'd
All the strong passions of the warriour's breast.
When the rude Chief his brave harangue began,
The Savage rose to Hero and to Man,
And when th'invader tore him from the soil,
Dear scene of all his pride, of all his spoil,
No artificial mockery of woe,
Or taught his cheek to change, his tears to flow;
With pious awe he kneel'd to kiss the ground,
And fondly press'd his sorrowing friends around,
“Oh! weeping Brothers! this our place of birth,
“Our fathers Ashes consecrate the earth;
“Should the foe drag us to a foreign shore,
“Those sacred ashes we can guard no more,
“The holy relicts as entomb'd they lay,
“Some wretch unhallow'd may usurp as prey,
“Leave, leave not thus our Sires to Christian rage,
“But ah! with filial wrath the conflict wage.”
Thus thro' the globe in Nature's earliest dawn,
For Freedom only was the arrow drawn,
The plain rough ancient at his threshold stood,
And held that freedom dearer than his blood;
Whate're the forest or the lakes bestow,
Fruits of his lance, his angle and his bow,
The fur that warms him or the hut that shields,
The scanty harvest which his culture yields,
Earn'd by his strength, was by his strength maintain'd,
He felt his own, what honest labour gain'd,
Part of himself his liberty he thought,
And reason sanctified what nature taught,
Nor force of bribes nor frauds of gold he knew,
For life and liberty the sword he drew;
Corruption was the growth of later times,
When Avarice reconcil'd the polish'd crimes,
A gentle modern of the Christian kind
That rose and flourish'd as vice grew refin'd,
An European, which in search of gain,
Taught free-born men to bear and hug the chain.
See Freedom smiling thro' the realms of frost,
And glow on Labradore's inclement coast,
Tho' darkness sheds deep night thro' half the year,
And snow invests the clime,—that clime is dear,
For there fair Liberty resides, and there
At large the native breasts the searching air,
Where blows the arctic tempests icy gale,
And famine seizes on the spermy whale,
The bearded Esquimaux half robb'd of sight,
Roves uncontroul'd content with Freedom's light,
His country loves, to all its ills conforms,
Endures its caverns and accepts its storms;
For the huge Sea-dog spreads the nimble oar,
Nor sighs for blessings of a softer shore,
No languid Suns unnerve his hardy race,
Which bless'd with Freedom range from place to place.
Such too, Britannia, were thy savage Sons,
Thro' all thy tribes the dread of Slav'ry runs,
Th'mild heroic, honest without laws,
They brav'd each peril in fair Freedom's cause.
But ah! full many an age in Gothic night,
Was veil'd th'effulgence of their native right;
Tho' like the rocky Barrier of their coast,
That Freedom now is her sublimest boast,
Full many an age dissension shook her Fane,
From Rome's fierce Cæsar to the stormy Dane.
In whelming tides pour'd in the Saxon clan,
And Normans finish'd what their rage began;
The savage Briton to his Mountains fled,
Alternate triumph'd and alternate bled;
War upon wars, on conquest conquests throng,
Vandal drove Goth, and Goth urg'd Gaul along;
On human flesh the savage Victors eat,
And mistic Druids shar'd the sanguine treat;
These to their altars, e'en while truth they taught,
The trembling sacrifice rapacious brought;
Impostor-priests before their Idols stood,
And talk'd of Heav'n with hands embru'd in blood;
Before their eyes imagin'd spectres glare,
Spirits were heard, and fancy'd ghosts were there,
Religion, Law, and Government their own,
Bloody their Altars, bloody was their Throne;
Thro' the vex'd Isle the sanguine edict spread
That Heav'n demanded mountains of the dead;
In the dark grove which Superstition trod,
Priests hid their spoils, yet commun'd with their God,
And muttering rites within the fearful gloom,
Stab a fresh victim and the feast resume;
Unfelt as yet the soft'ning ties of life,
Deep in the prisoner's breast the ruthless knife
The Female plung'd—could savage man do more!
Then idly prophesied as flow'd the gore;
A rage of slaughter then that sex possess'd,
Now with each grace of melting Pity blest.
But soon the Tyrants sought themselves to save,
For soon Invaders pierc'd the Druid cave;
Forth from the Baltic pour'd the deathful host,
And train'd to havock, crimson'd all the coast,
The Northern Hive swarm'd terrible around,
And every Altar smoak'd upon the ground,
Fire, sword, and carnage, spotted every hand,
Swell'd the gorg'd tomb and delug'd all the land.
Different in mind, and manners, as in face,
The Normans came, an innovating race;
Their power, their passions, and their pride, they brought,
Fierce, bold, and bloody, and with conquest fraught,
From the forc'd mixture of a foreign breed,
Unnatural customs, laws, and wars succeed;
The Saxon superstition, weak as dire,
In two extremes of water and of fire,
The burning ploughshare and the cauldron hot,
To prove the Culprit innocent or not,
Were lenient mercies to the cruel strife,
That then with horror hung a cloud on life,
Then, by no ties of law or nature bound,
Assassination took its deathful round;
In every grove the lurking stabber lay,
And human bloodshed clotted all the way,
In every street the mangled corpse appear'd,
And mutual hate the sanguine standard rear'd;
In slavish homage to an haughty Lord,
All social joy was broken at the board,
From house to house the Tyrant's edict ran,
And the Feast ended ere the Mirth began,
At the eighth hour toll'd out by dread command,
The dreary knell that darken'd all the land;
Wisdom, her lessons could no more impart,
Nor Friendship gladden or improve the heart,
Ere to their bliss the genial hours invite,
Oppression shed impenetrable night,
The friendly faggot chear'd the heart no more,
And all the soft'ning blooms of life were o'er;
To ruin'd Juries the dire sword succeeds,
And at each pore insulted Justice bleeds,
Ev'n rural pastime in that iron age,
No more to jovial sports the youth engage,
The savage beasts, which Nature gave to all,
To glut th'insatiate pride of one must fall;
No more the chace, no more the woods were free,
All, all was Hate,—for all was Slavery.
The Lawyer, Clergy too, and Baron proud,
Aping their Prince, struck terror thro' the croud;
Next, bigot Priests, th'imposing mandate bring,
And yoke the Neck of each succeeding King;
Rome sent her Monks, and superstition reign'd,
Freedom in bonds, and even Conscience chain'd;
Impious as vain, the Pope his terrors laid,
Ignorance was awed and folly was afraid;
Fair Truth in fetters was like Reason bound,
And dread Anathema's were peal'd around,
Pomp of procession, and parade of prayer,
Pardon, and curse, dealt mercy or despair:
The heart was tainted, and the head confus'd,
And all the attributes of God abus'd;
People and Prince were in one chaos hurl'd,
Law, Justice, Order, Virtue, left the World!
Eventful Britain! should the Muse display,
The various blood-tracks which then mark'd thy way,
Should she pursue the havoc of the sword,
That gash'd thee first, then crouching, call'd thee Lord,
Or trace the Deluges of Foreign Gore,
That ran in purple torrents thro' thy shore,
As conquest oft her crimson pinion spread,
And different victors different mischiefs bred;
Thy hardiest Sons would tremble but to view,
The fearful picture that her pencil drew:
Then let her pause ere she these deeds rehearse
A subject sacred to her future verse.
Last, and what greater proofs can now remain,
Touch we the border of Surinam's plain,
Lo, there the purchas'd Negroes may'st thou see,
Bursting their bonds and daring to be free,
In daring bands from caves and rocks they come,
And wrought to blood like trooping Panthers roam;
The swart Mulattoes to the forests fly,
Resolv'd to live in freedom, or to die.
Blest be the man and worthy to be blest,
Friend of the Wretched, Guardian of th'oppress'd,
Blest be the Man—ye Negroes bow the knee,
And bless him, Thou, Oh! sweet HUMANITY—
Who, scorning interest, thus pourtray'd the plan,
That gave to Men the awful rights of Man:
“Awake my friends, at mercy's call awake,
“Haste, haste the chains of Slavery to break;
“Oh! Race dishonour'd, whose sad forms we tear,
“Nor heed our species, heed our kindred there,
“Too long on sordid Altars have ye bled,
“From Christian hearts too long has Mercy fled:
“At length return'd, the Goddess brings relief,
“From Heav'n she comes to sooth the Captive's grief;
“My brethren rise, the galling chains unbind,
“And give the generous Model to mankind,
“What Avarice seiz'd let Justice now restore,
“Let Negroes serve, but serve as Slaves no more;
“This the new Law—Let each a shackle rend,
“Till Freedom reigns and Slavery shall end.
“Or if the name of Slave must yet remain,
“Strive not for words, so we remove the pain;—
“Strive not for words, so we the rights supply,
“The ravish'd rights of sweet HUMANITY!”
The good Man spake, applauding thousands bow'd,
The Hero triumph'd, and the Christian glow'd,
Unnumber'd Hearts by great example fir'd
Bent to the Law HUMANITY requir'd
Unnumber'd Manacles that moment broke,
Unnumber'd Slaves were loosen'd from the yoke,
Unnumber'd Hands were folded up in air,
Unnumber'd Voices breath'd a grateful prayer,
Unnumber'd Eyes so lately bath'd in woe,
Ah blissful change! with tears of joy o'erflow:
From God the spark began, to Man it came,
Till all perceiving, all partook the flame
Heav'n's fire electric, as one touch'd the ball,
It struck a second till it spread to all.
Soon generous England, shalt thou catch the flame,
And added Laurels shall adorn thy fame,
Soon shall HUMANITY assert her cause,
Soon shall the Slave find shelter in thy Laws,
Those equal Laws that grace thy pregnant Isle
Where all the Bounties and the Blessings smile,
Where rich and poor, and high and low obey
Their gentle rule and amicable sway,
Where Sovereigns view their lofty roofs ascend,
While Law and Liberty the Throne defend,
Where Subjects see their mansions firmly stand,
Nor fear the Rapine of the strongest Hand,
Where the poor Peasant knows his Cot secure,
Humble in size, but on foundations sure;
Where boldly fenc'd his little Garden grows,
And not a King can rob him of a Rose.
Thus in the crouded Hive, tho' all agree
To choose a Monarch, all the rest are free
Plebeian Cells, as sacred as the great
And both contribute honey to the State.
Oh launch the Bark, unfurl th'impatient Sails,
Swell ye kind Seas, and blow ye fostering Gales,
Oh haste some Angel thro' the realms of air
To Afric's Sons the rapt'rous tidings bear!
Thrice happy he who first shall reach the strand
And spread the joys of Freedom thro' the Land,
His the glad welcome of an Heavenly guest,
His the rich bliss to see “his fellows blest.”
And lo! methinks on Fancy's wing convey'd
The Muse already gains the palmy shade,
Herself the messenger, to Afric's plains
Ardent she flies to break the tyrant-chains,
Her voice already hails the list'ning croud,
And thus she speaks her Embassy aloud,
“I come, I come from sweet HUMANITY
“To sooth the Sad, and set the Captive free
“Heirs as ye are to all that Nature gave,
“Congenial Nature, who ne'er made a slave,
“Whose Minds can reason, and whose Hearts can move,
“With all the joys and agonies of Love,
“Sublime on Nature's scale ye Beings rise
“Equals on Earth, as equals in the skies
“All, all are Men, in Life and Death the same,
“And Virtue only can distinction claim,
“Where Freedom bids, now take your blithsome way
“Yours the fair morn, and yours the closing day,
“Yours is the jocund eve, its sports command
“Or on the cooling wave or barren sand,
“If in your breasts the Patriot passions burn
“To your lov'd Country, to your Homes return,
“Free, unconfin'd, where'er your course ye bend,
“Still, still shall Liberty your steps attend!”
They hear with dumb surprize, till raptures rise,
And these blest sounds re-echo to the skies,
“Negroes are Men, and Men are Slaves no more,
“Fair Freedom reigns, and Tyranny is o'er!”
And now they trace each scene of former love,
Explore each favour'd haunt, hill, vale, and grove,
And soon the well-remember'd huts they find,
Where faithful Friends and Loves were left behind,
Sudden before her sable lord appears,
Th'enfranchis'd wife adorn'd with faithful tears,
Mothers again their kidnapped babes behold,
Sons clasp their Sires in slavery grown old,
Here their own Niger rises to the sight,
And there their Nile's prolific banks invite;
Far as extend these parent floods they range,
Feel all at large and triumph in the change.
Yet mov'd by generous deeds their bosoms burn,
To merit freedom by a kind return,
Methinks I see them leave their native plain,
And touch'd by honour seek their lords again;
Methinks I see them, now no scourge is there,
In willing Tribes to scenes once curs'd repair,
Led on by gratitude they stoop to toil,
Double their industry, and bless the soil,
They quit the whizzing dart and twanging bow,
Collect the grass and reassume the Hoe,
Ev'n troops of sable Children brave the sea,
To kiss the hands which set their fathers free.
Blest expectation! here the Muse shall pause
And watch, HUMANITY, thy righteous cause,
But soon again shall she the globe survey,
And dare the dangers of her promis'd lay,
While in procession pass the human race,
Shall boldly view each tinge of mind as face,
With curious eye the gradual change shall mark,
As wond'rous Nature shifts from light to dark,
Shall visit tribes beneath the polar skies,
Of shape uncouth, diminutive of size.
Pass to the Tartar of an Olive shade,
Untam'd, untutor'd, and robustly made;
Next move to Asia's dusky-tinctur'd race,
Of softer form, nor destitute of grace;
Then the swarth African and yellow Moor,
Which spread their sable hues along the shore,
Last, wild America's eventful clan,
And European cultur'd into Man.
These to descry the Muse her course shall bend,
Far as discover'd earth and seas extend,
Thro' the wide universe shall vent'rous roam,
Nor till the Globe be measur'd seek her home.
But not content the surface to display,
Hues, habits, manners, customs to pourtray,
Her future song a bolder flight shall try,
And trace the magic powers of clime and sky,
Track Education, and Religion's hand,
And note the law that governs ev'ry land;
Observe, if Elements that cloud with strife,
Or smile in peace, most rule the springs of life;
See how from each, at work upon the mind,
Springs the diversity of Human Kind.
Next varying modes of Liberty survey,
From where she thrives to where she melts away,
Now proud to claim the independent soul,
Now her tame Spirit passive to controul,
For ever weak where tyranny assails,
For ever strong where milder rule prevails,
There like vile oxen stooping to the yoke,
Here gaining sudden freedom at a stroke.
Still will she find, compact in ev'ry part,
Is form'd the chain that fastens heart to heart,
Millions of links but all arrang'd are seen,
The rivets clos'd and not a chasm between;
And where they disproportion'd meet our eyes,
Or seem of different form, or different size,
Here, if more polish'd, there more rude they shew,
Or colour'd various as the show'ry bow,
Still one bright zone girds ocean, earth, and sky,
Thy beauteous zone, oh sweet HUMANITY!
Lo, the chain lengthens as the Links are plac'd,
Amid'st the flow'ry dale or barren waste,
Some with the whit'ning Billows froth around,
Some bathe in streams that never pass their bound,
Some redd'ning flame on Ætna's burning brow,
And some are cover'd with Siberian snow,
Some with th'brooding Mine in darkness hide,
And some in dazzling floods of light reside,
Some reach the clouded Regions of the North,
Where tawny Zembla pours her Children forth,
Some where keen Lapland bids the freezing train
Chase the fleet rein-deer o'er the icy plain;
Some stretch to milder climes remote from storms,
Where nature rises in her gentler forms,
Still, still thro' ev'ry clime may we behold
The chain but brightens as the links unfold,
Where'er dispers'd they spread to ev'ry soul,
And God, tis God alone that links the whole.
These shall the Muse with ardent wing explore,
Nor give, at fear's vain threat, th'enquiry o'er.
An awful Task! yet hope the Lyre shall string
And aid the Muse to spread the daring wing.
Ye silken Bards repose in beds of flowers,
And in soft sonnets court the sylvan powers,
Neptune, Diana, Wave, or Wood-nymph woo,
Bid Thrushes sweeter sing, Doves fonder coo,
The lazy Poppy nodding o'er your Brows,
While at your feet the languid water flows
Silent along, as if afraid to creep,
Lest its unguarded lapse should rouse from sleep,
Ah, sweetly slumber, undisturb'd by sense,
Then gently wake to tuneful Indolence,
Crop the pale shrub that e'en in plucking dies,
But leave the plant that blossoms in the skies:
Nor rash, nor diffident, the Muse shall sweep
From Clime to Clime, and dare the giddy steep;
Still to the Sun aspiring, try the height
Cleave the dense air and hope to gain the light.
Mean time to soothe her speeds a generous throng,
To cheer her labour, and assist her song;
These, while she tries the unattempted way,
Shall bid her soar and animate her Lay;
And tho' the fiends who dread the Muse should rise,
With Serpent malice hiss her as she flies,
Full many a laurell'd Bard to Science dear
Compose her Terrors, and her Spirits cheer,
And while she droops beneath the growing Toil,
Her Song approve, and give th'inspiring smile.