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Nor less the mystic characters I see
Wrought in each flow'r, inscrib’d on ev'ry tree :
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze,
I hear the voice of God among the trees.
With thee in shady solitude I walk;
With thee in busy crowded cities talk;
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r;
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control
Thus shall I reft, unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms;
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.
Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When, trembling, on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand, and stretch my view to either state ;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv’d to thee, in thee to die.
THEN avarice enslaves the mind,
Man turns a favage to his kind,
And blood and rapine mark his way:
Alas! for this poor fimple toy,
I sold a blooming NEGRO BOY.
His father's hope, 'his mother's pride;
Though black, yet comely to their view;
I tore him helpless from their side,
And gave him to a ruffian crew :
To fiends that AFRIC's coasts annoy,
I fold the blooming NEGRO BOY.
From country, friends, and parents torn,
Jis tender limbs in' chains confind,
I saw him o'er the billows borne,
And mark'd his
of mind : But fill to gain this simple toy, I
gave away the NEGRO BOY.
In ifles that deck the western wave,
I doom'd the hopeless youth to dwell,
A poor, forlorn, insulted slave,
A beast that Christians buy and sell:
Who in their cruel tasks employ
The much-enduring NEGRO BOY,
His wretched parents long shall mourn;
Shall long explore the distant main,
In hopes to see the youth return;
But all their hopes and sighs are vain :
They never shall the fight enjoy
Of their lamented NEGRO BOY.
Beneath a tyrant's harsh command,
He wears away his youthful prime,
Far-distant from his native land,
A stranger in a foreign clime:
No pleasing thoughts his mind employ,
A poor, dejected NEGRO BOY.
But He who walks upon the wind,
Whose voice in thunder's heard on high;
Who doth the raging tempeft bind,
Or wing the lightning through the sky,
In his own time will soon destroy
Th’ oppressors of the NEGRO BOY.
THEN the busy toil of day is done,
When beneath the mountain sets the
sun, Soft and fair,
Through vernal air,
The little birds sing cheerily;
Then I rove
To meet my love;
My bounding heart beats merrily.
When the yellow moon-beams light the vale,
When the bird of sorrow tells her tale;
Sweet and slow,
The warbled woe
Sounds through the woodlands drearily.
Then breathe I
The tender figh,
Responsive to her melody,
Delivered at the Liverpool Theatre, by Mr. HOLMAN,
On Monday August 13, 1798, when a free benefit was given to
the children of the late Mr. PALMER,
E airy Sprites, who, oft as fancy calls,
Sport ’midst the precincts of these haunted walls !
Light forms, that float in mirth’s tumultuous throng,
And frolic dance, and revelry, and song;
Fold your gay wings, repress your wonted firem
And from your favorite seat a while retire:
And thou, whose pow’rs sublimer thoughts impart,
Queen of the Springs that move the human Heart,
With change alternate; at whose magic call
The swelling tides of passion rise or fall-
Thou, too, withdraw; for 'midst thy lov'd abode,
With step more ftern, a mightier pow'r has trod:
Here, on this spot, to ev'ry eye confeft,
Enrob’d with terrors, stood the Kingly Guest:
Here, on this spot, DEATH wav'd th’ unerring Dart,
And struck, his noblest prize, AN_HONEST HEART!
What wond'rous links the human Feelings bind;
How strong the secret Sympathies of Mind !
As Fancy's pictur’d forms around us move,
We hope or fear, rejoice, detest or love;
Nor heaves the Sigh for SELFISH woes alone-
CONGENIAL Sorrows mingle with our own:
Hence, as the poet's raptur'd eye-balls roll,
The fond delirium seizes all his soul;
And, whilst his pulse concordant measure keeps,
He smiles in transport, or in anguish weeps.
But, ah, lamented shade, not thine to know
The anguish only of IMAGIN') Woe!
Destind o'er Life's SUBSTANTIAL ills to mourn,
And fond parental ties untimely torn;
Then whilft thy bosom, lab'ring with its grief,
From fabled sorrows fought a short relief,
The FANCY'D Woes, too true to nature's tone,
Burst the flight barrier, and became thy own:-
In mingled tides the swelling Passions ran,
Ablorb'd the Actor, and o'erwhelm'd the Mar!
Martyr of Sympathy, more sadly true
Than ever'FANCY feign'd, or poet drew,
Say why, by Heav'n's acknowledg'd hand impre,
Such keen sensations actuate all the breaft?
Why throbs the heart for joys that long have fled?
Why lingers HOPE around the filent dead?
Why fpurns the spirit its incumb'ring clay,
And longs to foar to happier realms away?
Does Heav'n, unjust, the fond desire instill,
To add to mortal woes another ill?
Is there, through all the intellectual frame,
No kindred mind that prompts the nightly dream;
Or, in lone musings of remembrance sweet,
Inspires the secret wish--once more to meet?
There is: for, not by more determin'd laws
The sympathetic steel the Magnet draws,
Than the freed Spirit acts with strong controul,
On its responsive Sympathies of Soul;
And tells in characters of truth unfurl'd
“ There is another, and a BETTER world !"
Yet, whilst we sorrowing tread this earthly ball,
For human woes a human tear will fall;
Bleft be that tear: who gives it doubly blest,
That heals with balm the Orphan's wounded breast!
Not all that breathes in Morning's genial dew
Revives the Parent Plant where once it
grew; those dews with timely nurture aid The infant Flow'rets drooping in the shade ; Whilft long-experienc'd Worth and Manners mild A Father's merits--still protect his child.
Whose hints shew'd meaning; whose allusions care; By one brave stroke, to mark all human kind, Calld clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind, When still as op'ning sense her di&tates wrote, Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot.