Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/177

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Down,—down,—beneath the cleaving main Thou fain would'st plunge where monsters lie, Rather than ope the gates of pain For time and for Eternity.—

Oh Afric!—what has been thy crime?— That thus like Eden's fratricide, A mark is set upon thy clime, And every brother shuns thy side.—

Yet are thy wrongs, thou long-distrest!— Thy burdens, by the world unweigh'd, Safe in that Unforgetful Breast Where all the sins of earth are laid.—

Poor outcast slave!—Our guilty land Should tremble while she drinks thy tears, Or sees in vengeful silence stand, The beacon of thy shorten'd years;—

Should shrink to hear her sons proclaim The sacred truth that heaven is just,— Shrink even at her Judge's name,— "Jehovah,—Saviour of the opprest."

The Sun upon thy forehead frown'd,    But Man more cruel far than he, Dark fetters on thy spirit bound:— Look to the mansions of the free!

Look to that realm where chains unbind,— Where the pale tyrant drops his rod, And where the patient sufferers find A friend,—a father in their God.