Anti Slavery Poems II, vol 3, part 2 | Page 7

tranquilly in Life's great task-field wrought,?And, side by side with evil, scarcely caught?A stain upon his pilgrim garb of white?Prompt to redress another's wrong, his own?Leaving to Time and Truth and Penitence alone.
II.?Such was our friend. Formed on the good old plan,?A true and brave and downright honest man?He blew no trumpet in the market-place,?Nor in the church with hypocritic face?Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace;?Loathing pretence, he did with cheerful will?What others talked of while their hands were still;?And, while "Lord, Lord!" the pious tyrants cried,?Who, in the poor, their Master crucified,?His daily prayer, far better understood?In acts than words, was simply doing good.?So calm, so constant was his rectitude,?That by his loss alone we know its worth,?And feel how true a man has walked with us on earth.?6th, 6th month, 1846.
SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT.
"Sebah, Oasis of Fezzan, 10th March, 1846.--This evening the female slaves were unusually excited in singing, and I had the curiosity to ask my negro servant, Said, what they were singing about. As many of them were natives of his own country, he had no difficulty in translating the Mandara or Bornou language. I had often asked the Moors to translate their songs for me, but got no satisfactory account from them. Said at first said, 'Oh, they sing of Rubee' (God). 'What do you mean?' I replied, impatiently. 'Oh, don't you know?' he continued, 'they asked God to give them their Atka?' (certificate of freedom). I inquired, 'Is that all?' Said: 'No; they say, "Where are we going? The world is large. O God! Where are we going? O God!"' I inquired, `What else?' Said: `They remember their country, Bornou, and say, "Bornou was a pleasant country, full of all good things; but this is a bad country, and we are miserable!"' `Do they say anything else?' Said: 'No; they repeat these words over and over again, and add, "O God! give us our Atka, and let us return again to our dear home."'
"I am not surprised I got little satisfaction when I asked the Moors about the songs of their slaves. Who will say that the above words are not a very appropriate song? What could have been more congenially adapted to their then woful condition? It is not to be wondered at that these poor bondwomen cheer up their hearts, in their long, lonely, and painful wanderings over the desert, with words and sentiments like these; but I have often observed that their fatigue and sufferings were too great for them to strike up this melancholy dirge, and many days their plaintive strains never broke over the silence of the desert."-- Richardson's Journal in Africa.
WHERE are we going? where are we going,?Where are we going, Rubee??Lord of peoples, lord of lands,?Look across these shining sands,?Through the furnace of the noon,?Through the white light of the moon.?Strong the Ghiblee wind is blowing,?Strange and large the world is growing!?Speak and tell us where we are going,?Where are we going, Rubee?
Bornou land was rich and good,?Wells of water, fields of food,?Dourra fields, and bloom of bean,?And the palm-tree cool and green?Bornou land we see no longer,?Here we thirst and here we hunger,?Here the Moor-man smites in anger?Where are we going, Rubee?
When we went from Bornou land,?We were like the leaves and sand,?We were many, we are few;?Life has one, and death has two?Whitened bones our path are showing,?Thou All-seeing, thou All-knowing?Hear us, tell us, where are we going,?Where are we going, Rubee?
Moons of marches from our eyes?Bornou land behind us lies;?Stranger round us day by day?Bends the desert circle gray;?Wild the waves of sand are flowing,?Hot the winds above them blowing,--?Lord of all things! where are we going??Where are we going, Rubee?
We are weak, but Thou art strong;?Short our lives, but Thine is long;?We are blind, but Thou hast eyes;?We are fools, but Thou art wise!?Thou, our morrow's pathway knowing?Through the strange world round us growing,?Hear us, tell us where are we going,?Where are we going, Rubee??1847.
TO DELAWARE.
Written during the discussion in the Legislature of that State, in the winter of 1846-47, of a bill for the abolition of slavery.
THRICE welcome to thy sisters of the East,?To the strong tillers of a rugged home,?With spray-wet locks to Northern winds released,?And hardy feet o'erswept by ocean's foam;?And to the young nymphs of the golden West,?Whose harvest mantles, fringed with prairie bloom,?Trail in the sunset,--O redeemed and blest,?To the warm welcome of thy sisters come!?Broad Pennsylvania, down her sail-white bay?Shall give thee joy, and Jersey from her plains,?And the great lakes, where echo, free alway,?Moaned never shoreward with the clank of chains,?Shall weave new sun-bows in their tossing spray,?And all their waves keep grateful holiday.?And, smiling on thee through her mountain rains,?Vermont shall bless thee; and the granite peaks,?And vast Katahdin o'er his