VOICES OF FREEDOM. FROM 1833 TO 1848. And inland waste of rock and wood, Crossing the nightshade's solemn gloom, The white cecropia's silver rind Fair island of the Western Sea! Or bent him in the chill morass, The quenching of the immortal mind, Around, beneath, above; The wild beast from his cavern sprang, The wild bird from her grove! Nor fear, nor joy, nor agony Were mingled in that midnight cry; But like the lion's growl of wrath, When falls that hunter in his path Whose barbed arrow, deeply set, Is rankling in his bosom yet, It told of hate, full, deep, and strong, Of vengeance kindling out of wrong; It was as if the crimes of years— The unrequited toil, the tears, The shame and hate, which liken well Earth's garden to the nether hell Had found in nature's self a tongue, On which the gathered horror hung: As if from cliff, and stream, and glen Burst on the startled ears of men That voice which rises unto God, Solemn and stern, the cry of blood! It ceased, and all was still once more, Save ocean chafing on his shore, The sighing of the wind between The broad banana's leaves of green, Then, injured Afric!- for the shame Now, when oppression's heart is bleeding; Now, when the latent curse of Time Is raining down in fire and blood, That curse which, through long years of crime, Has gathered, drop by drop, its flood, Why strikes he not, the foremost one, Where murder's sternest deeds are done? He stood the aged palms beneath, ̧ That shadowed o'er his humble door, Listening, with half-suspended breath, To the wild sounds of fear and death, Toussaint l'Ouverture! What marvel that his heart beat high ! The blow for freedom had been given, And blood had answered to the cry Which Earth sent up to Heaven! What marvel that a fierce delight Smiled grimly o'er his brow of night, As groan and shout and bursting flame Told where the midnight tempest came, With blood and fire along its van, And death behind!- he was a Man! Yes, dark-souled chieftain!-if the light For justice in his own good time, - Broadly around him, made the same! Yea, on his thousand war-fields striven, And gloried in his ghastly shame?- Were purer in his Holy eyes, THE SLAVE-SHIPS. "Ha! stand or die!" The white man's eye His shadow crossed the lighted floor. "Away!" he shouted; "fly with me, The white man's bark is on the sea; Her sails must catch the seaward wind, For sudden vengeance sweeps behind. Our brethren from their graves have spoken, The yoke is spurned, -the chain is broken; On all the hills our fires are glowing, Through all the vales red blood is flowing! No more the mocking White shall rest sworn For all the wrongs his race have borne,- Away, for life!"-Hespoke, and pressed 59 Sleep calmly in thy dungeon-tomb, come, Yea, even now is nigh, When, everywhere, thy name shall be Which still hath spurned the base control Of tyrants through all time! Far other hands than mine may wreath The laurel round thy brow of death, And speak thy praise, as one whose word A thousand fiery spirits stirred, Who crushed his foeman as a worm, Whose step on human hearts fell firm: - 33 Ay, ay " the seamen said; "Heave up the worthless lubbers, The dying and the dead." Up from the slave-ship's prison Fierce, bearded heads were thrust: "Now let the sharks look to it, Toss up the dead ones first!" Corpse after corpse came up, — Why should the spoiler spare? Gloomily stood the captain, With his arms upon his breast, With his cold brow sternly knotted, And his iron lip compressed. "Are all the dead dogs over?" Growled through that matted lip,"The blind ones are no better, Let's lighten the good ship." Hark! from the ship's dark bosom, The maniac's short, sharp yell! The hoarse, low curse, throat-stifled, The starving infant's moan, — The horror of a breaking heart Poured through a mother's groan. Up from that loathsome prison Above, was still the same. Was sweetly breathing there, And the heated brow of fever Cooled in the soft sea air. "Overboard with them, shipmates!" Cutlass and dirk were piied; Fettered and blind, one after one, Plunged down the vessel's side. The sabre smote above, Beneath, the lean shark lay, God of the earth! what cries From ship deck and from sea. Night settled on the waters, And on a stormy heaven, While fiercely on that lone ship's track Down came the stranger vessel, So near, that on the slaver's deck Came back upon the wind: Help us! for we are stricken With blindness every one; Ten days we've floated fearfully, Unnoting star or sun. Our ship's the slaver Leon, We've but a score on board, Our slaves are all gone over, Help, - for the love of God !" On livid brows of agony The broad red lightning shone, But the roar of wind and thunder Stifled the answering groan Wailed from the broken waters A last despairing cry, As, kindling in the stormy light, The stranger ship went by. |