Page:Slavery, a poem.pdf/22

Rh To him what mercy can that Pow'r display, Whose servants murder, and whose sons betray? Savage! thy venial error I deplore, They are not Christians who infest thy shore. O thou sad spirit, whose preposterous yoke The great deliverer Death, at length, has broke! Releas'd from misery, and escap'd from care, Go, meet that mercy man deny'd thee here. In thy dark home, sure refuge of th' oppress'd, The wicked vex not, and the weary rest. And, if some notions, vague and undefin'd, Of future terrors have assail'd thy mind; If such thy masters have presum'd to teach, As terrors only they are prone to preach; (For shou'd they paint eternal Mercy's reign, Where were th' oppressor's rod, the captive's chain?)