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Rh Gleam forth, O marble, from the wilding gloom! Shine, O white cross, upon the martyr's tomb! Faithful toil, long-suffering care, Radiate over dark and fair, Burst into glory!

loathe nor scorn the colour'd man; Nor deem him far below my Master's love. I know about the sutures of his skull; But I have proved him verily my brother. And I have heard of Toussaint L'Ouverture! (Perchance I am not so fastidious As those who have great genius for words; Yet we dumb doers crave some standing room, O ye, so deft and dazzling with the tongue!)