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If foreigners likewise would give up the trade,
Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A youngster at school more sedate than the rest,
He was shock’d, sir, like you, and answer'd_" Oh no!
“ You speak very fine, and you look very grave,
They spoke, and Tom ponder'd_“I see they will go:
“ 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,
Asleep at the dawn of the day, I dream'd what I cannot but sing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay. 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,
Ne'er taught me by woman before. She sat, and a shield at her side
Shed light, like a sun on the waves, And smiling divinely, she cried
“I go to make freemen of slaves.”-
Then raising her voice to a strain
The sweetest that ear ever heard, She sung of the slave's broken chain,
Wherever her glory appear'd. Some clouds which had over us hung,
Fled, chas’d by her melody clear, And methought while she liberty sung,
'Twas liberty only to hear.
Thus swiftly dividing the flood,
To a slave-cultur'd island we came Where a demon, her enemy, stood
Oppression his terrible name.
A scourge hung with lashes he bore, And stood looking out for his prey
From Africa's sorrowful shore.
But soon as approaching the land,
That goddesslike woman he view'd, The scourge he let fall from his hand,
With blood of his subjects imbru’d.
I saw him both sicken and die,
And the moment the monster expir'd, Heard shouts, that ascended the sky,
From thousands with rapture inspir'd.
Awaking, how could I but muse
At what such a dream should betide ? But soon my ear caught the glad news,
Which serv'd my weak thought for a guideThat Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves
For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves,
Resolves to have none of her own.