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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44398 ***
+
+POEMS ON SLAVERY.
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+ON
+
+SLAVERY.
+
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+SECOND EDITION.
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE:
+
+PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN.
+
+M DCCC XLII.
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and
+forty-two, by H. W. LONGFELLOW, in the Clerk's office of the District
+Court of the District of Massachusetts.
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE:
+
+METCALF, KEITH, AND NICHOLS,
+
+PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                   PAGE
+
+  TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING              9
+
+  THE SLAVE'S DREAM                  11
+
+  THE GOOD PART                      15
+
+  THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP      18
+
+  THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT      21
+
+  THE WITNESSES                      23
+
+  THE QUADROON GIRL                  26
+
+  THE WARNING                        30
+
+
+
+
+[The following poems, with one exception, were written at sea, in the
+latter part of October. I had not then heard of Dr. Channing's death.
+Since that event, the poem addressed to him is no longer appropriate.
+I have decided, however, to let it remain as it was written, a feeble
+testimony of my admiration for a great and good man.]
+
+
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+
+
+
+                                The noble horse,
+    That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils
+    Neighed courage to his rider, and brake through
+    Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord
+    Safe to triumphant victory, old or wounded,
+    Was set at liberty and freed from service.
+    The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew
+    Marble, hewed for the Temple of the Gods,
+    The great work ended, were dismissed and fed
+    At the public cost; nay, faithful dogs have found
+    Their sepulchres; but man, to man more cruel,
+    Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave.
+
+                                             MASSINGER.
+
+
+
+TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING.
+
+
+    The pages of thy book I read,
+      And as I closed each one,
+    My heart, responding, ever said,
+      "Servant of God! well done!"
+
+    Well done! Thy words are great and bold;
+      At times they seem to me,
+    Like Luther's, in the days of old,
+      Half-battles for the free.
+
+    Go on, until this land revokes
+      The old and chartered Lie,
+    The feudal curse, whose whips and yokes
+      Insult humanity.
+
+    A voice is ever at thy side
+      Speaking in tones of might,
+    Like the prophetic voice, that cried
+      To John in Patmos, "Write!"
+
+    Write! and tell out this bloody tale;
+      Record this dire eclipse,
+    This Day of Wrath, this Endless Wail,
+      This dread Apocalypse!
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE'S DREAM.
+
+
+    Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
+      His sickle in his hand;
+    His breast was bare, his matted hair
+      Was buried in the sand.
+    Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
+      He saw his Native Land.
+
+    Wide through the landscape of his dreams
+      The lordly Niger flowed;
+    Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
+      Once more a king he strode;
+    And heard the tinkling caravans
+      Descend the mountain-road.
+
+    He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
+      Among her children stand;
+    They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
+      They held him by the hand!--
+    A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
+      And fell into the sand.
+
+    And then at furious speed he rode
+      Along the Niger's bank;
+    His bridle-reins were golden chains,
+      And, with a martial clank,
+    At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
+      Smiting his stallion's flank.
+
+    Before him, like a blood-red flag,
+      The bright flamingoes flew;
+    From morn till night he followed their flight,
+      O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
+    Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
+      And the ocean rose to view.
+
+    At night he heard the lion roar,
+      And the hyæna scream,
+    And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
+      Beside some hidden stream;
+    And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
+      Through the triumph of his dream.
+
+    The forests, with their myriad tongues,
+      Shouted of liberty;
+    And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
+      With a voice so wild and free,
+    That he started in his sleep and smiled
+      At their tempestuous glee.
+
+    He did not feel the driver's whip,
+      Nor the burning heat of day;
+    For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
+      And his lifeless body lay
+    A worn-out fetter, that the soul
+      Had broken and thrown away!
+
+
+
+
+THE GOOD PART,
+
+THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY.
+
+
+    She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side,
+      In valleys green and cool;
+    And all her hope and all her pride
+      Are in the village school.
+
+    Her soul, like the transparent air
+      That robes the hills above,
+    Though not of earth, encircles there
+      All things with arms of love.
+
+    And thus she walks among her girls
+      With praise and mild rebukes;
+    Subduing e'en rude village churls
+      By her angelic looks.
+
+    She reads to them at eventide
+      Of One who came to save;
+    To cast the captive's chains aside,
+      And liberate the slave.
+
+    And oft the blessed time foretells
+      When all men shall be free;
+    And musical, as silver bells,
+      Their falling chains shall be.
+
+    And following her beloved Lord,
+      In decent poverty,
+    She makes her life one sweet record
+      And deed of charity.
+
+    For she was rich, and gave up all
+      To break the iron bands
+    Of those who waited in her hall,
+      And labored in her lands.
+
+    Long since beyond the Southern Sea
+      Their outbound sails have sped,
+    While she, in meek humility,
+      Now earns her daily bread.
+
+    It is their prayers, which never cease,
+      That clothe her with such grace;
+    Their blessing is the light of peace
+      That shines upon her face.
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP.
+
+
+    In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp
+      The hunted Negro lay;
+    He saw the fire of the midnight camp,
+    And heard at times a horse's tramp
+      And a bloodhound's distant bay.
+
+    Where will-o'-the-wisps and glowworms shine,
+      In bulrush and in brake;
+    Where waving mosses shroud the pine,
+    And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine
+      Is spotted like the snake;
+
+    Where hardly a human foot could pass,
+      Or a human heart would dare,
+    On the quaking turf of the green morass
+    He crouched in the rank and tangled grass,
+      Like a wild beast in his lair.
+
+    A poor old slave, infirm and lame;
+      Great scars deformed his face;
+    On his forehead he bore the brand of shame,
+    And the rags, that hid his mangled frame,
+      Were the livery of disgrace.
+
+    All things above were bright and fair,
+      All things were glad and free;
+    Lithe squirrels darted here and there,
+    And wild birds filled the echoing air
+      With songs of Liberty!
+
+    On him alone was the doom of pain,
+      From the morning of his birth;
+    On him alone the curse of Cain
+    Fell, like a flail on the garnered grain,
+      And struck him to the earth!
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT.
+
+
+    Loud he sang the psalm of David!
+    He, a Negro and enslaved,
+    Sang of Israel's victory,
+    Sang of Zion, bright and free.
+
+    In that hour, when night is calmest,
+    Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,
+    In a voice so sweet and clear
+    That I could not choose but hear,
+
+    Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,
+    Such as reached the swart Egyptians,
+    When upon the Red Sea coast
+    Perished Pharaoh and his host.
+
+    And the voice of his devotion
+    Filled my soul with strange emotion;
+    For its tones by turns were glad,
+    Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.
+
+    Paul and Silas, in their prison,
+    Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen,
+    And an earthquake's arm of might
+    Broke their dungeon-gates at night.
+
+    But, alas! what holy angel
+    Brings the Slave this glad evangel?
+    And what earthquake's arm of might
+    Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?
+
+
+
+
+THE WITNESSES.
+
+
+    In Ocean's wide domains,
+      Half buried in the sands,
+    Lie skeletons in chains,
+      With shackled feet and hands.
+
+    Beyond the fall of dews,
+      Deeper than plummet lies,
+    Float ships, with all their crews,
+      No more to sink or rise.
+
+    There the black Slave-ship swims,
+      Freighted with human forms,
+    Whose fettered, fleshless limbs
+      Are not the sport of storms.
+
+    These are the bones of Slaves;
+      They gleam from the abyss;
+    They cry, from yawning waves,
+      "We are the Witnesses!"
+
+    Within Earth's wide domains
+      Are markets for men's lives;
+    Their necks are galled with chains,
+      Their wrists are cramped with gyves.
+
+    Dead bodies, that the kite
+      In deserts makes its prey;
+    Murders, that with affright
+      Scare schoolboys from their play!
+
+    All evil thoughts and deeds;
+      Anger, and lust, and pride;
+    The foulest, rankest weeds,
+      That choke Life's groaning tide!
+
+    These are the woes of Slaves;
+      They glare from the abyss;
+    They cry, from unknown graves,
+      "We are the Witnesses!"
+
+
+
+
+THE QUADROON GIRL.
+
+
+    The Slaver in the broad lagoon
+      Lay moored with idle sail;
+    He waited for the rising moon,
+      And for the evening gale.
+
+    Under the shore his boat was tied,
+      And all her listless crew
+    Watched the gray alligator slide
+      Into the still bayou.
+
+    Odors of orange-flowers, and spice.
+      Reached them from time to time,
+    Like airs that breathe from Paradise
+      Upon a world of crime.
+
+    The Planter, under his roof of thatch,
+      Smoked thoughtfully and slow;
+    The Slaver's thumb was on the latch,
+      He seemed in haste to go.
+
+    He said, "My ship at anchor rides
+      In yonder broad lagoon;
+    I only wait the evening tides,
+      And the rising of the moon."
+
+    Before them, with her face upraised,
+      In timid attitude,
+    Like one half curious, half amazed,
+      A Quadroon maiden stood.
+
+    Her eyes were, like a falcon's, gray,
+      Her arms and neck were bare;
+    No garment she wore save a kirtle gay,
+      And her own long, raven hair.
+
+    And on her lips there played a smile
+      As holy, meek, and faint,
+    As lights in some cathedral aisle
+      The features of a saint.
+
+    "The soil is barren,--the farm is old;"
+      The thoughtful Planter said;
+    Then looked upon the Slaver's gold,
+      And then upon the maid.
+
+    His heart within him was at strife
+      With such accursed gains;
+    For he knew whose passions gave her life,
+      Whose blood ran in her veins.
+
+    But the voice of nature was too weak;
+      He took the glittering gold!
+    Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek,
+      Her hands as icy cold.
+
+    The Slaver led her from the door,
+      He led her by the hand,
+    To be his slave and paramour
+      In a strange and distant land!
+
+
+
+
+THE WARNING.
+
+
+    Beware! The Israelite of old, who tore
+      The lion in his path,--when, poor and blind,
+    He saw the blessed light of heaven no more,
+      Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind
+    In prison, and at last led forth to be
+    A pander to Philistine revelry,--
+
+    Upon the pillars of the temple laid
+      His desperate hands, and in its overthrow
+    Destroyed himself, and with him those who made
+      A cruel mockery of his sightless woe;
+    The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and jest of all,
+    Expired, and thousands perished in the fall!
+
+    There is a poor, blind Samson in this land,
+      Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel,
+    Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand,
+      And shake the pillars of this Commonweal,
+    Till the vast Temple of our liberties
+    A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies.
+
+
+END.
+
+
+
+
+WORKS
+
+PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN,
+
+CAMBRIDGE.
+
+
+I.
+
+VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
+
+6th Edition. 16mo. Boards.
+
+
+II.
+
+THE SAME.
+
+Royal 8vo. Fine paper. Boards.
+
+
+III.
+
+BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
+
+AUTHOR OF "VOICES OF THE NIGHT," "HYPERION," ETC.
+
+4th Edition. 16mo. Boards.
+
+
+IV.
+
+THE SAME.
+
+Royal 8vo. Fine paper. Boards.
+
+
+V.
+
+THE
+
+HISTORY
+
+OF
+
+HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+BY JOSIAH QUINCY, LL. D.,
+
+PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY.
+
+2 Vols. Royal 8vo. Cloth. 21 Engravings.
+
+
+VI.
+
+AN INQUIRY
+
+INTO THE
+
+FOUNDATION, EVIDENCES, AND TRUTHS
+
+OF
+
+RELIGION.
+
+BY HENRY WARE, D. D.,
+
+LATE HOLLIS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN HARVARD COLLEGE.
+
+2 Vols. 12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE CLOUDS OF ARISTOPHANES.
+
+WITH NOTES.
+
+BY C. C. FELTON,
+
+ELIOT PROFESSOR OF GREEK LITERATURE IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+PROF. LIEBIG'S REPORT ON ORGANIC CHEMISTRY.
+
+PART I. AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY.
+
+CHEMISTRY
+
+IN ITS
+
+APPLICATION TO AGRICULTURE AND PHYSIOLOGY.
+
+BY
+
+JUSTUS LIEBIG, M.D., PH.D., F.R.S., M.R.I.A.,
+
+PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GIESSEN, ETC.
+
+EDITED FROM THE MANUSCRIPT OF THE AUTHOR,
+
+BY LYON PLAYFAIR, PH.D.
+
+WITH VERY NUMEROUS ADDITIONS, AND A NEW CHAPTER ON SOILS.
+
+THIRD AMERICAN, FROM THE SECOND ENGLISH EDITION,
+
+WITH NOTES AND APPENDIX,
+
+BY JOHN W. WEBSTER, M.D.,
+
+ERVING PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+IX.
+
+PART II. ANIMAL CHEMISTRY.
+
+ANIMAL CHEMISTRY,
+
+OR ORGANIC CHEMISTRY IN ITS
+
+APPLICATION TO PHYSIOLOGY AND PATHOLOGY.
+
+BY
+
+JUSTUS LIEBIG, M.D., PH.D., F.R.S, M.R.I.A.,
+
+PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GIESSEN, ETC.
+
+EDITED FROM THE AUTHOR'S MANUSCRIPT,
+
+BY WILLIAM GREGORY, M.D., F.R.S.E., M.R.I.A.,
+
+PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE AND CHEMISTRY IN THE UNIVERSITY AND KING'S
+COLLEGE, ABERDEEN.
+
+WITH ADDITIONS, NOTES, AND CORRECTIONS,
+
+BY DR. GREGORY,
+
+AND OTHERS
+
+BY JOHN W. WEBSTER, M.D.,
+
+ERVING PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+X.
+
+A NARRATIVE OF VOYAGES
+
+AND
+
+COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISES.
+
+BY RICHARD J. CLEVELAND.
+
+2 Vols. 12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+XI.
+
+LECTURES ON MODERN HISTORY,
+
+FROM
+
+THE IRRUPTION OF THE NORTHERN NATIONS
+
+TO THE
+
+CLOSE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
+
+BY WILLIAM SMYTH,
+
+PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.
+
+FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION,
+
+WITH A PREFACE, LIST OF BOOKS ON AMERICAN HISTORY, &c,
+
+BY JARED SPARKS, LL. D.,
+
+PROFESSOR OF ANCIENT AND MODERN HISTORY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+2 Vols. 8vo. Cloth.
+
+
+XII.
+
+HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN:
+
+A ROMANCE.
+
+FROM THE GERMAN OF
+
+NOVALIS (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG).
+
+12mo. Cloth.
+
+
+
+
+WORKS IN PRESS.
+
+
+I.
+
+A TREATISE ON MINERALOGY,
+
+ON THE BASIS OF THOMSON'S OUTLINES,
+
+WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS;
+
+COMPRISING
+
+THE DESCRIPTION OF ALL THE NEW AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MINERALS, THEIR
+LOCALITIES, &c.
+
+DESIGNED AS A TEXT-BOOK FOR STUDENTS, TRAVELLERS, AND PERSONS
+ATTENDING LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE.
+
+BY JOHN W. WEBSTER, M.D.,
+
+ERVING PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY AND MINERALOGY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+8vo.
+
+
+II.
+
+THE EVIDENCES
+
+OF THE
+
+GENUINENESS OF THE GOSPELS.
+
+BY ANDREWS NORTON.
+
+Vols. II. & III.
+
+BEING THE COMPLETION OF THE WORK.
+
+8vo.
+
+
+III.
+
+THE SPANISH STUDENT.
+
+A DRAMA: IN THREE ACTS.
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
+
+AUTHOR OF "VOICES OF THE NIGHT," "HYPERION," ETC.
+
+l6mo.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Poems on Slavery, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44398 ***