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so If the matter depended alone upon me, I His apples might hang till they dropt from the
But, since they will take them, I think I'M go too, He will lose none by me, though I get a feva."
His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, And went with his comrades the apples to seize; He blamed and protested, but joined in the plan: He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man.
"Twas in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day, t'i
So pleasant it seemed as I lay,
Far hence to the westward I sailed,
In the steerage a woman I saw,
Such at least was the form that she wore, Whose beauty impressed 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 cried
"I go to make Freemen of Slaves.".
Then raising her voice to a strain
The sweetest, that ear ever heard,
Wherever her glory appeared.
Fled, chased by her melody clear,
'Twas liberty only to hear.
Thus swiftly dividing the flood,
To a slave-cultured island we camo, Where a demon, her enemy,
stood Oppression bis terrible name. In his hand, as the sign of his sway,
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 viewed, The scourge he let fall from his hand,
With blood of his subjects imbrued.
THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM. 251
I saw him both sicken and die,
And the moment the monster expired, Heard shouts, that ascended the sky,
From thousands with rapture inspired,
Awaking, how could I but muse
At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news,
Which served my weak thought for a guideThat Britannia, renowned o'er the waves
For the hatred, she ever has shown, To the black-sceptered rulers of slaves,
Resolves to haye none of her own.
NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.
A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
252 MIE NIGHTINGHIE AND GEOW-NWOKA.
A something shining in the dark,
Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,
Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Those Christians best deserve the name,
and him that dies,
ON A GOLDFINCH;
STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE,
** di polizgi-vuit 51?".
1. 1. Sila Time was when I was free as air, Ttie thistles downy seed mly fare,
My drink the morning dew;
And of a transient date; -
Soon passed, the wiry grate.
Thanks, gentle swain, for all my wdes,
2 And I, if you had shown me less,
Had been your prisoner still.