His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, And went with his comrades the apples to seize; He blamed and protested, but join'd in the plan; He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man. THE MORNING DREAM. "TWAS in the glad season of spring, Far hence to the westward I sail'd, And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd. In the steerage a woman I saw ; Such at least was the form that she wore, Shed light, like a sun on the waves, Then raising her voice to a strain The sweetest that ear ever heard, Thus swiftly dividing the flood, To a slave-cultured island we came, In his hand, as the sign of his sway, But soon as approaching the land And the moment the monster expired, Awaking, how could I but muse At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news, Which served my weak thought for a guide,— That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves For the hatred she ever had shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves, Resolves to have none of her own. SWEET MEAT HAS SOUR SAUCE: OR, THE SLAVE-TRADER IN THE DUMPS. A TRADER I am to the African shore, I'll sing you a song that you ne'er heard before, When I first heard the news it gave me a shock, Which nobody can deny. 'Tis a curious assortment of dainty regales, Here's supple-jack plenty, and store of rat-tan, Which nobody can deny. Here's padlocks and bolts, and screws for the thumbs, That squeeze them so lovingly till the blood comes; They sweeten the temper like comfits or plums, Which nobody can deny. When a Negro his head from his victuals withdraws, And clenches his teeth and thrusts out his paws, Here's a notable engine to open his jaws, Which nobody can deny. Thus going to market, we kindly prepare A pretty black cargo of African ware, For what they must meet with when they get there, "Twould do your heart good to see 'em below But ah! if in vain I have studied an art For oh! how it enters my soul like an awl! Which nobody can deny. So this is my song, as I told you before; Which nobody can deny, deny, Which nobody can deny. THE VALEDICTION. FAREWELL, false hearts! whose best affections fail, Forgetful of the man whom once ye chose, I bid you both a long and last adieu ! Cold in my turn, and unconcern'd like you. First, farewell Niger! whom, now duly proved, I disregard as much as I have loved. Your brain well furnished, and your tongue well taught Sound sense, intrepid spirit, manly grace, Fulfill'd with ease had you been so inclined, Your sullen silence serves at least to tell Your alter'd heart; and so, my lord, farewell! Terentius, once my friend, farewell to thee! |