Page:The West Indies, and Other Poems.djvu/53
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The negro, spoiled of all that nature gave,
The freeborn man, thus shrunk into a slave,
His passive limbs to measured tasks confined,
Obey'd the impulse of another mind;
A silent, secret, terrible controul,
That ruled his sinews, and repress'd his soul.
Not for himself he waked at morning-light,
Toil'd the long day, and sought repose at night;
His rest, his labour, pastime, strength, and health,
Were only portions of a master's wealth;
His love—O, name not love, where Britons doom
The fruit of love to slavery from the womb.
The freeborn man, thus shrunk into a slave,
His passive limbs to measured tasks confined,
Obey'd the impulse of another mind;
A silent, secret, terrible controul,
That ruled his sinews, and repress'd his soul.
Not for himself he waked at morning-light,
Toil'd the long day, and sought repose at night;
His rest, his labour, pastime, strength, and health,
Were only portions of a master's wealth;
His love—O, name not love, where Britons doom
The fruit of love to slavery from the womb.
Thus spurn'd, degraded, trampled, and oppress'd,
The negro-exile languish'd in the west,
With nothing left of life but hated breath,
And not a hope except the hope in death,
To fly for ever from the Creole-strand,
And dwell a freeman in his fathers' land.
The negro-exile languish'd in the west,
With nothing left of life but hated breath,
And not a hope except the hope in death,
To fly for ever from the Creole-strand,
And dwell a freeman in his fathers' land.