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Dear to my fight that form, and doubly dear
Thy well-known accents meet Zamboia's ear.
Oh! had I dy'd, and left the name of slave
Deep, deep entomb’d within an early grave !
Oh! had I dy'd, ere ruthless fates constrain,
With thee enthrall’d, to cross the western main!
Oh! to have met a glorious death in arms,
And ne'er beheld Melinda's fatal charms!
Time would be short, and memory would fail,
To dwell distinctly on the various tale.
Tedious to tell what treach'rous arts were try'd,
To oothe the smart of still revolting pride.
I liv'd and lov d—then kiss'd the fatal chain;
No joy but one to cheer a life of pain.
Yet witness bear, thou dear departed ghost !
That lonely rov's thy Gambia's sacred coaft,
How sweet the toil that met the morning ray,
How light the labour that oe'rlased day.
The reed-built hovel, and the fcanty fare,
Imperial bliss could give, Melinda there.
Soft was my pillow on thy gentle breast,
When o'er-prest nature dioop’d, in want of rest;
And if a rebel tear disgrac'd my eye,
Thine was the tear, and thine the bursting figh!
Bliss I could boast, unenvy'd had it pass’d,
But bliss too great, for hapless slaves, to last.

A wretch, who banish’d from his native clime,
Defild with many a black and monstrous crime,
Presided o’er us, and, with iron hand,
Held savage sway o'er all the servile band.
In him each hellish passion rudely glow'd,
And cruelty in him moft cruel show'd.
Him luit infernal, one sad ev’ning, led
T' invade the chasteness of my marriage-bed:
I chanc'd t’ approach--the castiff I surprisid---
My wife prelerv'd, and had his guilt challisid ;
While full with
vengeance boil'd


wounded heart :
But chance reserv'd him for a baser part.
Meanwhile, o’erjoy'd that vice e'en then had fail'd,
I bless'd the Gods that innocence prevail'd.

The baffled villain, now a foe profefs'd,
Rolls scenes of blood within his rankling breast;



With coward arts he forg’d a crafty tale,
And hands unrighteous poisid the partial scale:
Imputed crimes to crush the weak fuffice,
Hearsay is guilt, and damning facts furmise ;
Where uncurb’d will usurps the place of laws,
No friendly pleader takes the wretch's cause :
Our tyrants’ fears each want of proof supply'd,
We stand condemnd, unquestion’d, and untry'd!

Oh! had the grief and shame been all my own,
And the black vengeance lit on me alone!
But har her fates a harder curse decreed ;
These eyes were doom'd te fee Melinda bleed.
I saw her by relentless ruffians bound,
The brandish'd scourge inflict the mortal wound;
Her tender frame abus'd, and mangled o’er,
I saw her welt’ring in a flood of gore,
The murd'rous scene had foon a dreadful close
And do I live ? and can I speak my woes ?
Her pregnant womb no longer could sustain
The public shame, and agony of pain;
A birth abortive robb’d her of her breath,
And pangs convulsive seald her eyes in death.
One only pledge my weary soul detains,
This hapless infant, all that now remains ;
The mournful image of my once lov'd wife,
And ties me down awhile io hated life:
Else this bold hand frould liberty restore,
And my rapt spirit seek a happier shore.
Through devious paths with timid hafte we fly,


blue mountains meet the bending sky: Nor serpents' haunts I dread, nor desarts drear, The master-lavage, Man, alone I fear.


Since from our native realms compell’d to part, Such pointed forrows have not touch'd my heart. Insatiate plund'rers! could it not suffice To rend, inhuman, all the social ties? From guiltless joys, that bless'd our native foil, Dragg’d to a life of misery and toil, Would you yet take the little God has giv'n, And intercept the gracious dews.of heav'n? Your

rage for blood, wild as your thirit of gain, Shall no refpeéts, nor truths divine, restrain ?

Th'eternal fabric can a name undo?
Is rape, and murder, sanctify'd in you?
And us, what laws, as impious as severe,
Forbid the common rights of man to share ?
Didst thou, creative Pow'r! thy views confine ?
For one proud race the spacious earth design?
For them alone does plenty deck thé vale,
Blush in the fruit, and tinge the scented gale ?
For them the seasons all their sweets unfold,
Blooms the fresh rose, and shines the waving gold?
Oh, no! all-bounteous is thy equal hand,
And thy fix'd laws irrevocable stand.
Hapless Zamboia ! had it been thy fate
With me to share my more propitious state,
Thy soul had breath'd no impious wish to die,
Nor the big tear had trembled in thine eye.
Disjoin'd from thee, I too to flav'ry went;
But Heav'n a father, not a master, lent.
He seems as Virtue's self in mortal guise ;
Though wealthy, fimple; and though modeft, wisc.
Bleft be the hand that life and freedom gave !
That pow'r can boaft, exerted but to save!
Bleft the sage tongue that stor'd the vacant mind,
The manners soften'd, and the heart refind!
That, fill to Heav'n's unerring dictates true,
Eternal truth unfolded to our view!
But, come, thy faint and weary limbs repose,
Forgetful of thy fears, thy griefs compofe ;
By morning's dawn, with earnest foot," I speed,
Nor sleep these eyes till I behold thee freed.
Some wealth I have, and, did I prize it more,
Well spar'd for this I deem the sacred store.

So talk'd these friends, and to the cottage hafte ;
While sad Zamboia his pursuers trac’d.
The ruffian band arrest the hapless swain,
And pray’rs, and tears, and promises are vain :
Their vengeful fervour, no-not gifts abate ;
But, bound in chains, they drag him to his fate*.
* A higher reward is generally offered for the head of a fugitive

Negro, than for bringing him alive.

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WIFT roll the Rhine's billows, and water the plains,

Their moss-cover'd turrets still rear :
Oft loves the gaunt wolf 'midst the ruins to prowl,
What time, from the battlements, pours the lone owl

Her plaints in the passenger's ear.
No longer resound, through the vaults of yon hall,
The song of the minfrel and mirth of the ball;

Those pleasures for ever are fled:
There now dwells the bat, with her light-shunning brood;
There ravens and vultures now clamour for food,

And all is dark, fitent, and dread!
Ha! dost thou not see, by the moon's trembling light
Directing his sleps, where advances a knight,

eye big with vengeance and fate?
'Tis Orric—the Lion, his nephew who leads,
And swift up the crackling old fair-case proceeds,

Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate.
Now round him young Carloman casting his eyes,
Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise,

And fear fteals the rose from his cheeks
His {pirits forsake him, his courage is flown;
The hand of Sir Ofrie he clasps in his own,

And, while his voice faulters, thus fpeakso.

[2] “ Dear uncle," he murmurs, “ why linger we here? 'Tis late, and these chambers are damp, and are drear,

Keen blows, through the ruins, the blast! Oh! let us away, and our journey pursue; Fair Blumenberg's Castle will rise on our view,

Soon as Falkenstein Forest is pass’d.
Why roll thus your eye-balls? why glare they fo wild ?
O chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child

Should view these apartments with dread;
For know that, full oft, I have heard from my nurse,
There still on this castle has rested a curse,

Since innocent blood was here shed !
She said, too, bad spirits and ghosts, all in white,
Here use to resort at the dead time of night,

Nor vanish till breaking of day;
And fill at their coming is heard the deep tone
Of a bell-loud and awful-Hark! hark! 'twas a groan!

Good uncle, oh! let us away!"
“ Peace, serpent!" thus Osric—the Lion, replies,

and malignity gloom in his eyes;
Thy journey and life here must close:
Thy castle's proud turrets no more shalt thou see;
No more betwixt Blumenberg's lordship and me

Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose.
My brother lies breathless on Palestine's plains,
And thou once remov'd, to his noble domains

No rival my right can deny:
Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed !
No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed;

Commend thee to Jefus, and die !"
Thus saying, he feizes the boy by the arm,
Whofe grief rends the vaulted hall's roof, while alarm

His heart of all fortitude robs;
His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears,
He falls at his uncle's feet, bathes them with tears,

Ana" Spare me! oh! spare me !" he fobs.
But, ah! 'tis in vain that he strives to appease
The miscreant; in vain does he cling round his knees,

And sue, in soft accents, for life:


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