Preserv'd by virtue from declension, But lives, when that exterior grace, THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. FORC'D from home and all its pleasures, To increase a stranger's treasures, 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, What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever, 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. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, Hark! he answers-Wild tornadoes, Strewing yonder sea with wrecks; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, Are the voice, with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrants' habitations Where his whirlwinds answer-no. 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 sufferings, since ye brought us Deem our nation brutes no longer, 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, Deteriora sequor.— I OWN I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, And fear those, who buy them and sell them, are 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, Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains; If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will, And tortures and groans will be multiplied still. |