VOICES OF FREEDOM. FROM 1833 TO 1848. TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE.32 'T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed down Its beauty on the Indian isle, On broad green field and white-walled town; And inland waste of rock and wood, The white cecropia's silver rind Or bent him in the chill morass, The quenching of the immortal mind, Hark to that cry!-long, loud, and shrill, From field and forest, rock and hill, Thrilling and horrible it rang, 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 yearsThe 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?Kneeling amidst his brother's blood, To offer mockery unto God, As if the High and Holy One Were purer in his Holy eyes, THE SLAVE-SHIP} For all the wrongs his race have borne,- 59 Sleep calmly in thy dungeon-tomb, come, Yea, even now is nigh, When, everywhere, thy name shall be Which knows no color, tongue, or clime, 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 "That fatal, that perfidious bark, Built i' the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark." Milton's Lycidas. "ALL ready?" cried the captain; "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!" "Overboard with them, shipmates!" Cutlass and dirk were plied; 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 The thunder-gust was driven. "A sail! thank God, a sail !" And as the helmsman spoke, Down came the stranger vessel, So near, that on the slaver's deck Came back upon the wind: |