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THE HUNTERS OF MEN.

WRITTEN on reading the report of the proceedings of the American Colonization
Society, at its annual meeting in 1834.

HAVE
ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest the hunting of men?

The lords of our land to this hunting have gone,

As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn:

Hark! the cheer and the hallo!- the crack of the whip,

And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip!
All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match
Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch.
So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest-the hunting of men!

Gay luck to our hunters!-how nobly they ride

In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride!-
The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind,
Just screening the politic statesman behind —
The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer

The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there.
And woman kind woman

--

- wife, widow, and maid For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid :

Her foot's in the stirrup her hand on the rein

How blithely she rides to the hunting of men!

Oh goodly and grand is our hunting to see,

In this "land of the brave and this home of the free."
Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine,
All mounting the saddle-all grasping the rein-
Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin
Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin!

Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay!

Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey?
Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when
All roughly they ride to the hunting of men?

Ho!-ALMS for our hunters! all weary and faint
Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint.
The horn is wound faintly—the echoes are still,

Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill.

Haste alms for our hunters! the hunted once more

Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore:
What right have they here in the home of the white,
Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right?
Ho!-alms for the hunters! or never again
Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men!

ALMS -ALMS for our hunters! why will ye delay,
When their pride and their glory are melting away?
The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own,
Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone?

The politic statesman looks back with a sigh
There is doubt in his heart there is fear in his eye.

Oh! haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail,
And the head of his steed take the place of the tail.
Oh! haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then,
For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men?

ކ

CLERICAL OPPRESSORS.

[IN the Report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, S. C., on the 4th of the 9th month, 1835, published in the Courier of that city, it is stated, "The CLERGY of all denominations attended in a body, LENDING THEIR SANCTION TO THE PROCEEDINGS, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene!"]

JUST God! and these are they

Who minister at Thine altar, God of Right!

Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay
On Israel's Ark of light!

What! preach and kidnap men?

Give thanks and rob Thy own afflicted poor ?
Talk of Thy glorious liberty, and then

Bolt hard the captive's door?

What! servants of Thy own

Merciful Son, who came to seek and save

The homeless and the outcast, fettering down

The tasked and plundered slave!

Pilate and Herod, friends!

Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine!
Just God and holy is that church, which lends
Strength to the spoiler, Thine?

Paid hypocrites, who turn

Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book

Of those high words of truth which search and burn
In warning and rebuke;

Feed fat, ye locusts, feed!

And, in your tasseled pulpits, thank the Lord
That, from the toiling bondman's utter need,
Ye pile your own full board.

How long, O Lord! how long

Shall such a priesthood barter truth away,
And, in Thy name, for robbery and wrong
At Thy own altars pray?

Is not Thy hand stretched forth
Visibly in the heavens, to awe and smite?
Shall not the living God of all the earth,
And heaven above, do right?

Woe, then, to all who grind

Their brethren of a common Father down!
To all who plunder from the immortal mind
Its bright and glorious crown!

Woe to the priesthood! woe

To those whose hire is with the price of blood
Perverting, darkening, changing as they go,
The searching truths of God!

Their glory and their might

Shall perish; and their very names shall be
Vile before all the people, in the light

Of a world's liberty.

Oh! speed the moment on

When Wrong shall cease- and Liberty, and Love, And Truth, and Right, throughout the earth be known

As in their home above.

THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE.

[IN a late publication of L. F. TASISTRO, "Random Shots and Southern Breezes," is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as A GOOD CHRISTIAN!"]

66

A CHRISTIAN! going, gone!

Who bids for God's own image?

for His grace

Which that poor victim of the market-place
Hath in her suffering won?

My God! can such things be?

Hast thou not said that whatsoe'er is done
Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one,
Is even done to Thee?

In that sad victim, then,

Child of Thy pitying love, I see Thee stand-
Once more the jest-word of a mocking band,
Bound, sold, and scourged again!

A Christian up for sale!

Wet with her blood your whips - o'ertask her frame,
Make her life loathsome with your wrong and shame,
Her patience shall not fail!

A heathen hand might deal

Back on your heads the gathered wrong of years,
But her low, broken prayer and nightly tears,
Ye neither heed nor feel.

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