THE WITNESSES. IN Ocean's wide domains, With shackled feet and hands. Beyond the fall of dews, There the black Slave-ship swims, These are the bones of Slaves; Within Earth's wide domains Dead bodies, that the kite In deserts makes its prey; All evil thoughts and deeds; Anger, and lust, and pride; The foulest, rankest weeds, That choke Life's groaning tide! These are the woes of Slaves; THE QUADROON GIRL. THE Slaver in the broad lagoon Under the shore his boat was tied, Odors of orange-flowers, and spice, The Planter, under his roof of thatch, He said, "My ship at anchor rides I only wait the evening tides, Before them, with her face upraised, Like one half curious, half amazed, Her eyes were large, and full of light, No garment she wore save a kirtle bright, And on her lips there played a smile "The soil is barren,-the farm is old;" His heart within him was at strife For he knew whose passions gave her life, But the voice of nature was too weak; Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, Her hands as icy cold. The Slaver led her from the door, He led her by the hand, To be his slave and paramour In a strange and distant land! THE WARNING. BEWARE! The Israelite of old, who tore A pander to Philistine revelry,— Upon the pillars of the temple laid His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Destroyed himself, and with him those who made A cruel mockery of his sightless woe; The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and jest of all, There is a poor, blind Samson in this land, Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand, Till the vast Temple of our liberties A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies. |