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If foreigners likewise would give up the trade, Much more in behalf of your wish might be said ; But, while they get riches by purchasing blacks, Pray tell me why we may not also go snacks?
Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest,
He was shock'd, Sir, like you, and answer'd
" Oh no! What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you, don't
go ; Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, Then think of his children, for they must be fed.”
“ You speak very fine, and you look very grave,
with us, you shall have a share, If not you shall have neither apple nor pear.”
They spoke, and Tom ponder'd~"I see they will go';
« If the matter depended alone upon me,
THE MORNING DREAM.
'TWAS in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day, I dream'd what I cannot but sing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay.
I dream'd that on ocean afloat,
Far hence to the westward I sail'd, While the billows high-lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd.
In the steerage a woman I saw,
Such at least was the form that she wore, Whose beauty impress'd me with awe,
Ne'er taught me by woman before.
She sat, and a shield at her side
Shed light like a sun on the waves, And smiling divinely, she cry'd
I go to make Freemen of Slaves.
Then raising her voice to a strain
The sweetest that ear ever heard, She sung
of the slave's broken chain Wherever her glory appear'd.
Some clouds, which had over us hung,
Fled, chas'd by her melody clear, And methought while she Liberty sung,
'Twas Liberty only to hear.
Thus swiftly dividing the flood
To a slave-cultur'd island we came,
Oppression his terrible name.
A scourge hung with lashes he bore, And stood looking out for his prey
From Africa's sorrowful shore.
But soon as approaching the land
That goddess-like woman he view'd, The scourge he let fall from his hand,
With blood of his subjects imbru'd.
I saw him both sicken and die,
And the moment the monster expir'd, Heard shouts that ascended the sky
From thousands with rapture inspir'd.
Awaking, how could I but muse
But soon my ear caught the glad news,
Which serv'd my weak thought for a guide
That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves
For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves,
Resolves to have none of her own.
THE YEARLY DISTRESS;
TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX:
Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman, complaining the disagreeableness of the Day annually appointed for re
ceiving tbe Dues at the Parsonage.
COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest
The burden of my song.
This priest he merry is and blithe
Three quarters of the year, But oh ! it cuts him like a sithe
When tithing time draws near.
He then is full of fright and-fears,
As one at point to die,
He heaves up many a sigh,
For then the farmers come jog, jog,
Along the miry road,
To make their payments good.
In sooth, the sorrow of such days
Is not to be express’d,
Are both alike distress'd.
Now all, unwelcome, at his gates
The clumsy swains alight,
He trembles at the sighi.
And well he may, for well he knows
Each bumpkin of the clan, Instead of paying what he owes,
Will cheat him if he can.
So in they come-each makes his leg,
And flings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg,
And not to quit a score.
• And how does miss and madam do,
• The little boy and all ?' • All tight and well. And how do you,
•Good Mr. What-d'ye-call ?'
The dinner comes, and down they sit,
Were e'er such hungry folk ?