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More than his wants his flocks and fields afford ; He loves to greet the stranger at his board :
- The winds were roaring and the White Man fled ;
' The rains of night descended on his head ;
- The poor White Man sat down beneath our tree,
- Weary and faint, and far from home was he :
- For him no mother fills with milk the bowl,
- No wife prepares the bread to cheer his soul :
< — Pity the poor White Man, who sought our tree,
- No wife, no mother, and no home has he.'
Thus sung the Negro's daughters ; — once again,
O, that the poor White Man might hear that strain !
— Whether the victim of the treacherous Moor ;
Or from the Negro's hospitable door
Spurn'd, as a spy, from Europe's hateful clime,
And left to perish for thy country's crime ;
Or destin'd still, when all thy wanderings cease,
On Albion's lovely lap to rest in peace ;
Pilgrim ! in heaven or earth, where'er thou be,
Angels of mercy guide and comfort thee !
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