THE NEGRO'S PRAYER,

BY MR. THELWALL.

O SPIRIT! that rid'st in the whirlwind and storm,
Whose voice in the thunder is fear'd,—

If ever from man, the poor indigent worm,
The prayer of affliction was heard,-

If black man, as white, is the work of thy hand-
(And who could create him but Thee?)

Ah give thy command,

Let it spread thro' each land,
That Afric's sad sons shall be free!-

If, erst, when the man-stealer's treacherous guile
Entrap'd me, all thoughtless of wrong,-

From my Nicou's dear love, from the infantine smile
Of my Aboo, to drag me along ;

If then, the wild anguish that pierced thro' my heart, Was seen in its horrors by thee,

O ease my long smart,
And thy sanction impart,

That Afric, at last, may be free!

If while in the Slave Ship, with many a groan,
I wept o'er my sufferings in vain;

While hundreds around me, reply'd to my moan,
And the clanking of many a chain ;—

If then, thou but deign'dst, with a pitying eye, shackled creature to see;

Thy poor

Ŏ thy mercy apply

Afric's sorrows to dry,

And bid the poor Negro be free!

If here, as I faint in the vertical sun,

And the scourge goads me on to my toil,No hope faintly soothing, when labour is done, Of one joy my lorn heart to beguile ;

If thou view'st me, Great Spirit! as one thou hast made, And my fate as dependant on thee ;

O impart thou thy aid,

That the scourge may be stay'd,

And the Black Man, at last, may be free.

Thus pray'd the poor Negro; with many a groan,
Whole nations re-echo'd the prayer;—
Heaven bent down its ear,-and the fiat is known,
Which Britain, in thunder shall bear.—
Yes hear it, ye Isles of the Westering deep!
The Lords of the Ocean maintain,

No traffic of blood

Shall pollute the green flood,

And freedom, for Afric shall reign.

TO

OH! smile not, Lady, smile not so,
Disguise the accents of thy tongue;
That smile, that voice, but aid my woe,
And break a heart most deeply wrung!

For thus, in days for ever flown,

That magic smile, that syren voice,
Beguil'd this heart, to sorrow prone,
And bade it tremblingly rejoice.

Still on that soft enchanting tone,
With joy extatic I could dwell,
Still think that smile was mine alone,

And Fancy's dreams might aid the spell!

Alas! in vain, too late, I see,

What cruel chains this heart enthrall: Those smiles exist, but not for me;

Oh! not for me those accents fall.

Then smile not, Lady! smile not so,
Be silent, but for pity's sake;
That smile would aggravate my woe,

That voice my tortur'd heart would break!

B. B. W.

THE DYING NEGRO,

A POEM.

BY THE LATE THOMAS DAY AND JOHN BICKNELL *, ESQUIRES.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The following Poem was occasioned by a fact which had recently happened at the time of its first publication, in 1773. A negro, belonging to the Captain of a West Indiaman, having agreed to marry a white woman, his fellow-servant, in order to effect his purpose, had left his master's house, and procured himself to be baptized; but being detected and taken, he was sent on board the Captain's vessel, then lying in the river; where, finding no chance of escaping, and preferring death to another voyage to America, he took an opportunity of stabbing himself. As soon as his determination is fixed, he is supposed to write this epistle to his intended wife.

ARM'D with thy sad last gift-the power to die,
Thy shafts, stern Fortune, now I can defy;
Thy dreadful mercy points at length the shore,
Where all is peace, and men enslave no more ;
This weapon, even in chains, the brave can wield,
And vanquish'd quit triumphantly the field:
Beneath such wrongs let pallid Christians live,
Such they can perpetrate, and may forgive.
"Yet while I tread that gulph's tremendous brink,
"Where nature shudders, and where beings sink,

* The lines marked by inverted commas were written by Mr. Day.

Ere yet this hand a life of sorrow close, And end by one determin'd stroke my woes, "Is there a fond regret, which moves my mind "To pause, and cast a lingering look behind? -O my lov'd bride!-for I have call'd thee mine, Dearer than life, whom I with life resign, "For thee even here this faithful heart shall glow, "A pang shall rend me, and a tear shall flow.How shall I soothe thy grief, since fate denies Thy pious duties to my closing eyes? "I cannot clasp thee in a last embrace, "Nor gaze in silent anguish on thy face;

I cannot raise these fetter'd arms for thee, "To ask that mercy heaven denies to me; Yet let thy tender breast my sorrows share, Bleed for my wounds, and feel my deep despair. Yet let thy tears bedew a wretch's grave, Whom Fate forbade thy tenderness to save. Receive these sighs, to thee my soul I breathe, Fond love in dying groans is all I can bequeathe. Why did I, slave, beyond my lot aspire? Why didst thou fan the inauspicious fire ? For thee I bade my drooping soul revive; For thee alone I could have borne to live; And love, I said, shall make me large amends, For persecuting foes, and faithless friends: Fool that I was! enur'd so long to pain, To trust to hope, or dream of joy again, Joy, stranger guest, my easy faith betray'd, And Love now points to death's eternal shade; There, while I rest from misery's galling load, Be thou the care of every pitying god; Nor may that demon's unpropitious power, Who shed his influence on my natal hour,