Page:Poems written during the progress of the abolition question in the United States.djvu/32

 For the good of the hunted—is lending her aid: Her foot's in the stirrup—her hand on the rein— How blithely she rides to the hunting of men! Oh! goodly and grand is our hunting to see, In this 'land of the brave and this home of the free.' Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine, All mounting the saddle—all grasping the rein— Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin! Wo, now to the hunted who turns him at bay! Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey? Will their hearts fail within them?—their nerves tremble, when All roughly they ride to the hunting of men? Ho— for our hunters! all weary and faint Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer for the saing. The horn is wound faintly—the echoes are still Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill. Haste—alms for our hunters! the hunted once more Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore: What right have they here in the home of the white, Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right? Ho—alms for the hunters! or never again Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men! for our hunters! why will ye delay, When their pride and their glory are melting away?