Moral and Sacred Poetry

MILTON.

SLAVERY.

O EXECRABLE SON, so to aspire
Above his brethren, to himself assuming
Authority usurpt, from God not given,
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl,
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
By his donation;-but man over men
He made not Lord, such title to himself
Reserving, human left from human free.

THE HORRORS OF SLAVERY DEPLORED.

COWPER.

My ear is pained,

My soul is sick, with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is
filled.

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is severed as the flax,
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not coloured like his own; and having power
T'enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed
Make enemies of nations, who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And, worse than all, and most to be deplored
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his

sweat

With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart

Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast. Then what is man? And what man, seeing this,

And having human feelings, does not blush, And hang his head, to think himself a man? I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,

And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.

No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's Just estimation prized above all price,

I had much rather be myself the slave, And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.

We have no slaves at home-then why abroad?

And they themselves once ferried o'er the

wave

That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs

Receive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country, and their shackles · fall.

That's noble! and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire: that where Britain's
power

Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.

THE NEGRO'S DEPARTURE FROM

AFRICA.

SHENSTONE.

ON the wild heath in mournful guise he stood
Ere the shrill boatswain gave the hated sign;
He dropt a tear unseen into the flood,
He stole one secret moment to repine.-

'Why am I ravish'd from my native strand? What savage race protects this impious gain? Shall foreign plagues infest this teeming land, And more than sea-born monsters plough the main?

"Here the dire locusts' horrid swarms pre

vail;

Here the blue asps with livid poison swell;

Here the dry dipsa writhes his sinuous mail; | Is there, as ye sometimes tell us,
Can we not here secure from envy dwell?

"When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chase, When the stern panther sought his midnight prey,

What fate preserved me for this Christian race?

O race more polish'd, more severe, than they.

"Yet shores there are, bless'd shores for us remain,

Is there one, who reigns on high?
Has he bid you buy and sell us,

Speaking from his throne, the sky?
Ask him, if your knotted scourges,

Matches, blood-extorting screws,
Are the means which duty urges,
Agents of his will to use.

Hark! he answers-Wild tornadoes,
Strewing yonder sea with wrecks;
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,
Are the voice with which he speaks.

And favour'd isles, with golden fruitage He, foreseeing what vexations
crown'd,

Where tufted flow'rets paint the verdant plain,

And ev'ry breeze shall med'cine ev'ry wound."

THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.

COWPER.

FORCED from home and all its pleasures,
Afric's coast I left forlorn;
To increase a stranger's treasures,
O'er the raging billows borne.

Men from England bought and sold me,
Paid my price in paltry gold;

But, though theirs they have enrolled me,
Minds are never to be sold.

Still in thought as free as ever,
What are England's rights, I ask,
Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task?
Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit nature's claim;
Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the same.

Why did all-creating nature

Make the plant for which we toil?
Sighs must fan it, tears must water,
Sweat of ours must dress the soil.
Think, ye masters iron-hearted,
Lolling at your jovial boards;
Think how many backs have smarted
For the sweets your cane affords.

Afric's sons should undergo,
Fixed their tyrants' habitations
Where his whirlwinds answer-no.

By our blood in Afric wasted,

Ere our necks received the chain;
By the miseries we have tasted,

Crossing in your barks, the main !
By our sufferings, since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart;
All sustained by patience taught us,
Only by a broken heart:

Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger
Than the colour of our kind.
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,
Ere you proudly question ours!

THE SLAVE TRADE.

ANON.

FRANCE, and Spain, and Portugal,
Weep ye, weep ye, each and all!
Still ye trade in blood and pain,
When the earth has curs'd the chain.

Long has righteous vengeance slumber'd;
Yet has every sigh been number'd :
Not a Negro's dying prayer
Has been scatter'd on the air;

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