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To gratify a fretful passion,
On every trivial provocation?
The kindest and tlre happiest pair
Will find occasion to forbear;
And something every day they live,
To pity and perhaps forgive.
But if infirmities, that fall
In common to the lot of all,
A blemish or a sense impaired,
Are crimes so little to be spared,
Then farewell all, that must create
The comfort of the wedded state;
Instead of harmony, 'tis jar,
And tumult, and intestine war.

The love, that cheers life's latest stage,
Proof against sickness and old age,
Preserved by virtue from declension,
Becomes not weary of attention;
But lives, when that exterior grace,
Which first inspired the flame decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind,
To faults compassionate or blind,
And will with sympathy endure
Those evils, would gladly cure:
But angry, coarse, and harsh expression
Shows love to be a mere profession;
Proves that the heart is pone of his,
Or soon expels him if it is.

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THE

NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.

Forced from home and all its pleasures,

Afric's coast I left forlorn;
To increase a stranger's treasures,

O'er the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me,

Paid my price in paltry gold; But, though theirs they have enrolled me,

Minds are never to be sold.

Still in thought as free as ever,

What are England's rights, I ask,
Me from my delights to sever,

Me to torture, me to task?
Fleecy locks and black complexion

Cannot forfeit nature's claim;
Skirs may differ, but affection

Dwells in white and black the same,

Why did all creating nature

Make the plant for which we toil? Sighs mast fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil,

Think, ye másters iron-hearted,

Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted

For the sweets, your cane affords.

Is there, as ye sometimes tell us,

Is there one, who reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us,

Speaking from his throne the sky, Ask him, if your

knotted scourges, Matches, blood extorting screws, Are the means, which duty, urges

Agents of his will to use?

Hark! he answers-Wild tornadoes,

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,

Are the voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations

Afric's sons should undergo, Fixed their tyrant's habitations

Where his whirlwinds answer-ne.

By our blood in Afric wasted,

Ere our necks received the chain; By the iniseries we have tasted,

Crossing in your barks the main; By our sufferings, since ye brought us

To the man-degrading mart;
All-sustained by patience taught us

Only by a broken heart :

Deem our nation brutes no longer,

Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger

Than the colour of our kind.
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings

Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,

Ere you proudly question ours!

PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.

Video meliora proboque
Deteriora sequor.-

I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves, And fear those, who buy them and sell them, are

knaves; What I bear of their hardships, their tortures and

groans, Is almost enough to draw pity from stones. I pity them greatly, but I must be nium, For how could we do without sugar and rum? Especially sugar, so needful we see? What give up our deserts, our coffee, and tea. Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Danes, Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains;. If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will, And tortures and groans will be multiplied still,

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FITX FOR POOR ' APRICANS.

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 blácks, Pray tell me why we may not also go stacks?

Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A story so pat, you may think it is coined,
On purpose to answer you out of my mint;
But I can assure you I saw it in print.

А youngster at school, more sedate than the rest,
Had once his integrity put to the test;
His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob,
And asked him to go and assist in the job.

He was shocked, sir, like you, and answered

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 dook

very grave, But apples we want and apples we'll bave? If yoũ will go with us you shall have a share, If not, you shall have neither japple nor pear." They-bpoke, and Tom pondered"Iseethey will go: Podr man! what a pity to injure him so! Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I soud, Bat staying behind will do him no good.

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