And must thy brother's hatred find
A doom that Nature never gave?—
A curse Creation ne'er design'd,—
The fetter, and the name of slave?—
Haste! lift from Afric's wrongs the veil,
Ere the Eternal Judge arise,
To list the helpless prisoner's wail,
And count the tears from misery's eyes.
Oh! ere the flaming heavens reveal
That frown which none can meet and live,
Teach her before the Throne to kneel
And like her Saviour pray,—"Forgive."
AUTUMN WINDS.
Sweep on, rude winds, and rend the leafy crown
That withering Autumn loves,—and lift the sea
Up in loud wrath, and crest the foaming waves,
And make the tall ship own herself a reed.—
Go forth and vex the mariner, and give
Perchance his riches to the faithless deep:—
And then return, and sigh yourselves away
With such a syren guile, as if ye scarce
Could shut the sleeping rose.—This is your wont,
Ye boist'rous whisperers of your Maker's wrath,
Who vaunt yourselves amid the troubled clouds
One awful moment, and the next are gone
Ye know not whither.—
