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Touissaint, the most unhappy Man of Men!
September 1st, 1802.
We had a fellow-Passenger who came From Calais with us, gaudy in array, — A Negro Woman like a Lady gay, Yet silent as a Woman fearing blame;Dejected, meek, yea pitiably tame, She sate, from notice turning not away, But on our proffered kindness still did lay A weight of languid speech, —or at the same Was silent, motionless in eyes and face. She was a Negro Woman driven from France, Rejected like all others of that race, Not one of whom may now find footing there;This the poor Out-cast did to us declare, Nor murmured at the unfeeling Ordinance.
COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY, NEAR DOVER, ON THE DAT
Dear Fellow-traveller! here we are once more. The Cock that crows, the Smoke that curls, that sound Of Bells, — those Boys who in yon meadow-ground In white sleeved shirts are playing, — and the roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore, All, all are English. Oft have I looked round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in Bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free, My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.
Inland, within a hollow Vale, I stood;
And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,
The Coast of France, the Coast of France how near!
Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood
Was like a Lake, or River bright and fair,
A span of waters; yet what power is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise Winds blow, and Waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity,
Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the Soul
Only the Nations shall be great and free.
Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,