Alas! and is domestic strife, And tumult, and intestine war. The love, that cheers life's latest stage, 'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind, THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. FORC'D from home and all it's 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 slave they have enroll'd me, Minds are never to be sold. Still in thought as free as ever, 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 Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, Hark! he answers-wild tornadoes, Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 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, 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 pow'rs, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours! PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. Video meliora proboque, I own I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, knaves; What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and groans, Is almost enough to draw pity from stones. I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea! Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes, |