THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT. LOUD he sang the psalm of David! He, a Negro and enslaved, Sang of Israel's victory, Sang of Zion, bright and free. In that hour when night is calmest, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, And the voice of his devotion Paul and Silas, in their prison, But, alas! what holy angel THE WITNESSES. IN Ocean's wide domains, With shackled feet and hands. Beyond the fall of dews, Deeper than plummet lies, There the black Slave-ship swims, These are the bones of Slaves! Within Earth's wide domains gyves. Dead bodies, that the kite All evil thoughts and deeds ; That choke Life's groaning tide! These are the woes of Slaves; They cry, from unknown graves, THE QUADROON GIRL. THE Slaver in the broad lagoon Under the shore his boat was tied, Odours of orange-flowers, and spice, The Planter, under his roof of thatch, Smoked thoughtfully and slow; The Slaver's thumb was on the latch, He seemed in haste to go. |