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SLAVERY.
9
Ev'n you, of ruffian heart, and ruthleſs hand,
Love your own offspring, love your native land.
Ah! leave them holy Freedom's cheering ſmile, 115
The heav'n-taught fondneſs for the parent ſoil;
Revere affections mingled with our frame,
In every nature, every clime the ſame;
In all, theſe feelings equal ſway maintain;
In all the love of Home and Freedom reign: 120
And Tempe's vale, and parch'd Angola's ſand,
One equal fondneſs of their ſons command.
Th' unconquer'd Savage laughs at pain and toil,
Baſking in Freedom's beams which gild his native ſoil.
Does thirſt of empire, does deſire of fame, 125
(For theſe are ſpecious crimes) our rage inflame?
No: ſordid luſt of gold their fate controls,
The baſeſt appetite of baſeſt ſouls;
D
Gold,
