A childless widow now, a friendless slave, What shall I ask of thee, since I have nought To lose but life's sad burthen; nought to gain But heaven's repose?- these are beyond thy power; Me thou canst neither wrong nor help;—what then? Go to the bosom of thy family, Gather thy little children round thy knees, Gaze on their innocence; their clear, full eyes, Against oppression by your brethren's hands; Till man nor woman under Britain's laws, Nor son nor daughter born within her empire, Shall buy, or sell, or hold, or be a slave. THOUGHTS AND IMAGES. "Come like shadows, so depart." Macbeth. THE Diamond, in its native bed, Hid like a buried star may lie, Where foot of man must never tread, Seen only by its Maker's eye: And though imbued with beams to grace His fairest work, in woman's face, Where fix'd at first in solid night; The Plant, upspringing from the seed, The virgin-daughter of the mead, Wooed by the sun, the wind, the shower: It toils not, spins not, knows no care; Almighty skill, in ocean's caves, In coral grots, defies the foe, That never brake, in heaviest wrath, The sabbath of the deep below. Up from his dream, on twinkling wings, The Sky-lark soars amid the dawn; Yet, while in Paradise he sings, Looks down upon the quiet lawn, Where flutters, in his little nest, Then, though the nightingale may thrill The merry bird of morn can fill All Nature's bosom with his glee. The Elephant, embower'd in woods, Ages o'er him have come and fled, His bulk survives, to feed and range, Where ranged and fed of old his sires; Nor knows advancement, lapse, or change, Gem, flower, and fish, the bird, the brute, Of every kind occult or known, Who gave, without their toil or thought, While through the whole his pleasure wrought But Man, the master-piece of God, In naked helplessness appears, Child of a thousand griefs and fears: |