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THE

LOWER WORLD.

BOOK IV.

ARGUMENT.

Second Address to the Poets of Britain.-The Author's Apology. Difficulty of the Subject.-Appeal of the respective injured Animals to Man.-Apostrophe to the Society at Liverpool, associated for the Purpose of ameliorating the Condition of the Animal World.—Address to the Lords and Commons of Great Britain in their august Characters as Senators, and important Situation as distinguished Members of Society. Supposed Personification of the Sufferers, advancing to the Houses of Parliament as to the Seats of Judgment and Mercy.— The Boon of the Petitioners stated.-Summary of the Subject. Conclusion.-Apostrophe to the known Humanity of the Country in its Resistance of every Species of Oppression, whether practised against Man or Brute, when left to the Guidance of the Moral Sense.

THE

LOWER WORLD.
LOWER

BOOK IV.

STILL mute Britannia's Bards, while I, by pain,
By sickness sore, unfitted for the strain,
Have now relinquish'd, now resum'd the lyre,
Felt now the Muse's, now the fever's fire;
While Time prepares his sweeping scythe to bring,
And cover with his own, the poet's wing!
Yet still my heart shall hail the lingering page,
If it but tends to check one tyrant's rage;
If it but turns aside one threat'ning arm,
Or lures one cruel breast to Pity's charm;

If it but rouse, tho' late, the tuneful band,
To aid the song, and make one glorious stand.

Yet say, what offering shall the Muse bestow,
Tho' Inspiration bade the numbers flow;
The sons of Mercy and of Truth to grace,
Illustrious champions of an injur'd race;

Friends of the Tribes who prove yet want a friend,
Their varied wrongs to soothe, their rights defend ?

Ah! could you sufferers, labouring with their load, Assail'd by bludgeons, or the sharpen'd goad; Ill-fated victims of the probing lash,

prey,

The galling harness, and the deep-mouth'd gash :--
Could yon meek drudge, of wantonness the
By want and strong temptations led astray;
Impell❜d by daring hunger, to forsake
The scanty herbage of the waste, or brake;
The labours of his day but ill repaid

By the dry thistle, or the wither'd blade;

Should he, spurn'd Slave! on these refuse to feed,
And dare to trespass on the neighbouring mead;
Seiz'd, scourg'd, imprison'd in a barren round,
And left to pine, or perish on the ground;-
Or harsher still, could that decrepit crew,
That long the fullness of the pasture knew;
That in the pride of favour, and of prime,
Seem'd to outstrip, and win the race from Time;
The riders bore to triumphs not their own,
Plac'd by their Steeds upon a conqueror's throne.-
Could that sad group, devoted to the knife,
In the last moments of a faithful life,
The deaf, the dumb, the aged, and the blind,
Patient in hardships, and to stripes resign'd,
In slaughter-prisons pent', condemn'd to lie,
And feel the pang of famine ere they die;
Wait the cold leisure of the tyrant's blow,
In Avarice rapid, yet in Mercy slow.-

Could these and myriads more like these, who feel
The mangling whip, fell staff, and murd'rous steel;

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