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MUTUAL FORBEARANCE NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED
“ You are so deaf,” the lady cried
You are so deaf, my dear,
Yes, truly; one must scream and bawl:
Alas! and is domestic strife,
To gratify a fretful passion,
The love that cheers life's latest stage,
THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.
Forc'd from home and all its pleasures,
Afric's coast I left forlorn ;
O'er the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me,
Paid my price in paltry gold; But, though slave they have enroll'd me,
Minds are never to be sold. Still in thought as free as ever,
What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task ? Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection
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,
Agents of his will to use ?
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,
By our blood in Afric wasted,
Ere our necks receiv'd the chain;
Crossing in your barks the main ;
To the man-degrading mart;
Only by a broken heart.
Till some reason ye shall find
Than the colour of our kind.
Tarnish all your boasted pow’rs,
Ere you proudly question ours ?
PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.
“ Video meliora proboque,
I own I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves,
and groans, Is almost
enough to draw pity from stones. I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, For how could we do without sugar or rum? Especially sugar, so needful we see? What, give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea! Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes, Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains; If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will, And tortures and groans will be multiplied still.
If foreigners likewise would give up the trade,
shall have neither apple nor pear.” 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 would 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.
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