THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. FORC'D from home and all its pleasures, But, though slave they have enroll❜d me, Still in thought as free as ever, What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever, 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, Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, Speaking from his throne, the sky? Ask him, if your knotted scourges, Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges Agents of his will to use? Hark! he answers-wild tornadoes, By our blood in Afric wasted, Ere our necks receiv'd the chain; By the mis'ries that we tasted, Crossing in your barks the main; By our suff'rings, since ye brought us To the man-degrading mart; All sustain'd by patience, taught us Only by a broken heart; Deem our nation brutes no longer, Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours! Z 2 PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. Video meliora proboque, I own I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, And fear those, who buy them and sell them, are [groans, knaves; What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and Is almost enough to draw pity from stones. I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, For how could we do without sugar and rum? What, up our desserts, our coffee, and tea! Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes, If foreigners likewise would give up the trade, Much more in behalf of your wish might be said; But, while they get riches by purchasing blacks, Pray tell me why we may not also go snacks? Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest, He was shock'd, sir, like you, and answer'd-"Oh no! What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you don't go; Besides the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, Then think of his children, for they must be fed." "You speak very fine, and you look very grave, They spoke, and Tom ponder'd-"I see they will "If the matter depended alone upon me, [tree; His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the But, since they will take them, I think I'll go too, He will lose none by me, though I get a few." His scruples thus silenc'd, Tom felt more at ease, And went with his comrades the apples to seize; He blam'd and protested, but join'd in the plan: He shar'd in the plunder, but pitied the man. |