Thus swiftly dividing the flood, To a slave-cultured 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 I saw him both sicken and die, And the moment the monster expired, Heard shouts that ascended the sky, From thousands with rapture inspired. Awaking, how could I but muse At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news, Which served my weak thought for a guideThat Britannia, renowned o'er the waves For the hatred, she ever has shown, To the black-sceptered rulers of slaves, THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long The keen demands of appetite; When, looking eagerly around, And knew the glow-worm by his spark; So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. Harangued him thus, right eloquent— You would abhor to do me wrong, And found a supper somewhere else. Hence jarring sectaries may Their real interest to discern; learn That brother should not war with brother, And worry and devour each other; But sing and shine by sweet consent, Till life's poor transient night is spent, Respecting in each other's case The gifts of nature and of grace. Those Christians best deserve the name, Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace, both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies. ON A GOLDFINCH STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE. I. TIME was when I was free as air, The thistles downy seed my fare, "My drink the morning dew; I perched at will on every spray, My form genteel, my plumage gay, II. But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, And form genteel, were all in vain, And of a transient date; For caught and caged, and starved to death, In dying sighs my little breath Soon passed the wiry grate. III. Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes, And thanks for this effectual close, And cure of every ill! More cruelty could none express; Had been your prisoner still. |