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Fleecy locks, and black complexion,
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, Is there One, who reigns on high? Has He bid you buy and sell us, Speaking from His throne the sky? Ask Him, if your knotted scourges, Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges, Agents of His will to use?
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, Fixed their tyrants' habitations
Where His whirlwinds answer-No.
By our blood in Afric wasted,
Ere our necks received the chain; By the miseries that we tasted, Crossing in your barks the main; By our sufferings since ye brought us To the man-degrading mart ; All sustained by patience, taught us Only by a broken heart:
Deem our nation brutes no longer
WHERE London's column, pointing at the skies,
A plain good man, and Balaam was his name :
His word would pass for more than he was worth.
An added pudding solemnised the Lord's :
The devil was piqued such saintship to behold,
"Live like yourself," was soon my lady's word; And lo! two puddings smoked upon the board. Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
An honest factor stole a gem away:
He pledged it to the knight; the knight had wit, So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit. Some scruple rose, but thus he eased his thought, "I'll now give sixpence where I gave a groat; Where once I went to church I'll now go twiceAnd am so clear too of all other vice."
The tempter saw his time; the work he plied; Stocks and subscriptions pour on every side, Till all the Demon makes his full descent In one abundant shower of cent per cent, Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole, Then dubs director, and secures his soul.
Behold Sir Balaam now a man of spirit,
Things change their titles, as our manners turn.
There (so the devil ordained) one Christmas-tide
A nymph of quality admires our knight,
He marries, bows at court, and grows polite :
Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
EDWIN AND EMMA.
FAR in the windings of a vale,
There beauteous Emma flourished fair
The softest blush that nature spreads
Gave colour to her cheek;
Such orient colour smiles through heaven,
Nor let the pride of great ones scorn
That sun which bids their diamonds blaze
Long had she fired each youth with love,
And though by all a wonder owned,
Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,
A mutual flame was quickly caught,
What happy hours of heart-felt bliss
His sister, who, like envy formed,
To work them harm, with wicked skill,
The father too, a sordid man,
Long had he seen their mutual flame,
In Edwin's gentle heart, a war
Denied her sight, he oft behind
Oft, too, in Stanmore's wintry waste,
In sighs to pour his softened soul,