But pleasure on the wings of time was born,
And i expos'd a prey to grinning scorn.

Of low-born traders — mark the hand of fate!
Is Yarico reduc'd to grace the state,

Whose impious parents, an advent'rous band,
Imbru'd with guiltless blood my native land;
Ev'n snatched my father from his regal seat,
And stretch'd him, breathless, at their hostile feet!
Ill-fated prince! the christians sought thy shore,
Unsheath'd the sword, and mercy was no more.

But thou, fair stranger, cam'st with gentler mind
To shun the perils of the wrecking wind.
Amidst thy foes thy safety still I plan'd,
And reach'd for galling chains the myrtle band:..
Nor then unconscious of the secret fire,
Each heart voluptuous throb'd with warm desire:
Ah pleasing youth, kind object of my care,
Companion, friend, and every name that's dear!
Say, from thy mind can'st thou so soon remove
The records graven by the hand of love? war
How as we wanton'd on the flow'ry ground,
The loose-rob'd pleasures danc'd unblam'd around;
Till to the sight the growing burden prov'd,
How thou o'ercam'st and how, alas! I lov'd!
Too fatal proof! since thou with av'rice fraught,
Didst basely urge (ah! shun the wounding thought!)
That tender circumstance reveal it, not,

Lest, torn with rage, I curse my fated lot:
Lest startled reason abdicate her reign,
And madness revel in this heated brain:
That tender circumstance inhuman part

1

1

I will not weep, tho' serpents gnaw this heart:
Frail, frail resolve! while gushing from mine eye
The pearly drops these boastful words bely.
Alas! can sorrow in this bosom sleep,
Where strikes ingratitude her talons deep?
When he whom still I love, to nature dead,
Stabs pleasure as she mounts the nuptial bed?
What time his guardian pow'r I most requir'd,
Against my fame and happiness conspir'd!
And (do I live to breathe the barb'rous tale?)
His faithful Yarico expos'd to sale!

"

576

Yes, basely urg'd (regardless of my pray'rs,

Ev'n while I bath'd his venal hand with tears)
I can no more
The tend'rest circumstance

My future child to swell his impious store:
All, all mankind for this will rise thy foe,
But I, alas! alone endure the woe:

Endure what healing balms can ne'er controul,
The heart-lodged stings and agony of soul.
Was it for this I left my native plain,
And dar'd the tempest brooding on the main?
For this unlock'd (seduc'd by christian art)
The chaste affections of my virgin heart?
Within this bosom fan'd the constant flame,
And fondly languish'd for a mother's name?
Lo! every hope is poison'd in its bloom,
And horrors watch around this guilty womb.

With blood illustrious circling thro' these veins,
Which ne'er was chequer'd with plebejan stains,
Thro' ancestry's long line ennobled springs,
From fame-crown'd warriors and exalted kings,
Must I the shafts of infamy sustain ?

To slavery's purposes my infant train?
To catch the glances of his haughty lord?
Attend obedient at the festive board?

/ From hands unscepter'd take the scornful blow?
Uproot the thoughts of glory as they grow?
Let this pervade at length thy heart of steal?
Yet, yet return, nor blush, o man! to feel:
Ah! guide thy steps from yon expecting fleet:
Thine injur'd Yarico relenting meet:
Bid her recline, woe-stricken, on thy breast,
And hush her raging sorrows into rest!

If pity can't allure thy steps from vice,
Then from impending perils ask advice:
"Twas night my solitary couch I press'd,
Till sorrow-worn I wearied into rest;
Methought nor was it childish fancy's flight:
My country's genius stood confess'd to sight:

,, Let Europe's sons (he said) enrich their shore,
,,With stones of lustre, and barbaric ore:
,,Adorn their country with their splendid stealth,
,, Unnative foppery, and gorgeous wealth;

Embellish still her form with foreign spoils, ,,Till like a gaudy prostitute she smiles:

,,The day, th' avenging day at length shall rise, And tears shall trickle from that harlot's eyes:

Her own gods shall prepare the fatal doom

,,Lodg'd in time's pregnant and destructive womb; ,,The mischief-bearing womb these hands shall rend, ,,And straight shall issue forth confusion's fiend: ,, Then shall my children urge the destin'd way, ,, Invade the christian coast, and dare the day: Sue, as they rush upon them as a flood,

39

Dishonour for dishonour, blood for blood."

Say, Albion youth, flow all my words in vain, Like seeds that strew the rude ungrateful plain? Say, shall I ne'er regain thy wonted grace?

Ne'er stretch these arms to catch the wish'd embrace?
Enough with new awak'd resentment fraught `.
Assist me,,
heaven! to tear him from my thought!
No longer vainly suppliant will I bow,
And give to love, what I to hatred owe;
Forgetful of the race from whence I came,
With woe acquainted, but unknown to shame.
Hence, vile dejection, with thy plaintive pray'r,
Thy bended knee, and still descending tear!
Rejoin, rejoin the pale - complexioned train -
The conflict's past and I'm myself again.

Thou parent sun! if e'er with pious lay
I usher'd in thy world-reviving ray!
Or as thy fainter beams illum'd the west,
With grateful voice I hymn'd thee to thy rest!
Beheld, with wond'ring eye thy radiant seat,
Or sought thy sacred dome with unclad feet!
If near to thy bright altars as I drew,
My votive lamb, thy holy flamen, slew!
Forgive! that I, irrev'rent of thy name,
Dar'd for thy foe indulge th' unhallow'd flame:
Ev'n on a christian lavish'd my esteem,
And scorn'd the sable children of thy beam.
This poniard, by my daring hand imprest,

Shall drink the ruddy drops that warm my breast!
Nor I alone, by this immortal deed

From slav'ry's laws my infant shall be freed.

And thou, whose ear is deaf to pity's call,
Behold at length thy destin'd victim fall,
Behold thy once-lov'd Nubian stain'd with gore,
Unwept, extended on the crimson floor:
These temples clouded with the shades of death,
These lips unconscious of the ling'ring breath:
These eyes uprais'd (ere clos'd by fate's decree)
To catch expiring one faint glimpse of thee!
Ah! then thy Yarico forbear to dread,
My fault'ring voice no longer will upbraid,
Demand due vengeance of the pow'rs above,
Or, more offensive still, implore thy love.

2) THE MAGDALENS.

See to yon fane the suppliant nymphis repair,

At virtue's shrine to breathe contrition's sigh:
Their youthful cheek is pal'd with early care,
And sorrow dwells in their dejected eye.

Hark! they awake a solemn plaintive lay,
Where Grief with Harmony delights to meet :
Not philomela from her lonely spray,
Trills her clear note more querulously sweet.

Are these the fair (late Pleasure's youthful quire)
Who wont the dome of Luxury to tread?
Appear in all the splendor of attire?
And vie in beauty with the. high-born maid?

The smiling scenes of Pleasure they forsake,
Obey no more amusement's idle call,
Nor mingling with the sons of mirth partake,
The treat voluptuous, or the festive ball.

For sober weeds they change their flowing train,
Of the pearl bracelet strip the graceful aim,
Conceal the breast that glow'd in ev'ry vein,
And madden'd into joy at love's alarm.

No longer now the diamond's dazzling ray
Darts from the cunning tresses of the hair;
Nor do those tresses any more display
The colour'd plumes that sported in the air.

Yet Beauty lingers on their mournful brow,
As loth to leave the cheek suffus'd with tears,
Which scarcely blushing with a languid glow,
Like morn's faint beam thro' gath'ring mist appears.

No more compare them to the gaudy flow'r,
Whose painted foliage wantons in the gale:
They look the lily drooping from the show's,
Or the pale violet sick'ning in the vale.

Ill fond of empire and of conquest vain,
They frequent votries to their altars drew,
Yet blaz'd those splendid altars to their bane,
The idol they, and they the victim too!

Once destitute of counsel, aid, or food,,
Some helpless orphans in this dome reside,
Who (like the wand'ring children in the wood)
Trod the rude paths of life without a guide.

Some, who, encircled by the great and rich
Were won by wiles and deep designing art,
By splendid bribes, and soft persuasive speech,
Of pow'r to cheat the young unguarded heart.

Some on whom Beauty breath'd her radiant bloom,

While adverse stars all other gifts remov'd;
Who hurried from the dungeon's living tomb,
To scenes their inborn virtue disapprov'd.

What tho' their youth imbib'd an early stain,
A second innocence is now their claim;
While in the precincts of this bless'd domain,
They bask beneath the rays of rising fame.

So the young myrtles in misfortune's day,
Nipt by the blast that swept their vernal bed,
In shelt'ring walls their tender leaves display,
And wak'ning into life new fragrance shed.

Tho' white-wing'd Peace protect this calm abode, Tho' each tumultuous passion be suppress'd,

Still Recollection wears a sting to goad,

Still Conscience wakes to rob their soul of rest.

See one the tort'ring hour of mem'ry prove,

Who wrapt in pensive secrecy forlorn,