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, His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob, 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 go: Poor man! what a pity to injure him so! Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could, But staying behind will do him no good. "If the matter depended alone upon me, His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the tree; 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. 'Twas in the glad season of spring, I dream'd what I cannot but sing, I dream'd that on ocean afloat, Far hence to the westward I sail'd, While the billows high-lifted the boat, And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail❜d. In the steerage a woman I saw, Such at least was the form that she wore, Whose beauty impress'd me with awe, Shed light, like a sun on the waves, "I go to make Freemen of Slaves." Then raising her voice to a strain Some clouds, which had over us hung, Thus swiftly dividing the flood, To a slave-cultur'd island we came, Where a demon, her enemy, stoodOppression his terrible name. In his hand, as the sign of his sway, From Africa's sorrowful shore. But soon as approaching the land And the moment the monster expir'd, Awaking, how could I but muse At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news, That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves |