Ethiopia

Oh! never more may her sad eyes   Gaze on his mournful face.

His lightest word has been a tone    Of music round her heart, Their lives a streamlet blent in one—    Oh, Father! must they part?

He is not hers, for cruel hands    May rudely tear apart The only wreath of household love    That binds her breaking heart.

He is not hers, although she bore    For him a mother’s pains; He is not hers, although her blood    Is coursing through his veins!

She is a mother pale with fear,    Her boy clings to her side, And in her kyrtle vainly tries    His trembling form to hide.

Heard you that shriek? It rose    So wildly on the air, It seem’d as if a burden’d heart    Was breaking in despair.

In freedom's cause their voices raise, And burst the bonds of every slave; Till, north and south, and east and west, The wrongs we bear shall be redressed.

We do not come before thy throne, With carnal weapons drenched in gore, Although our blood has freely flown, In adding to the tyrant's store.

Of God, the holy, just, and true; And darker doom than Egypt felt, May yet repay this nation's guilt.

Almighty God! Ât is this they call The land of liberty and law; Part of its sons in baser thrall Than Babylon or Egypt saw— Worse scenes of rapine, lust and shame, Than Babylonian ever knew, Are perpetrated in the name

The captive, toiling in his chains, With tortured limbs and bosom riven, Raises his fettered hand on high, And in the accents of despair, To him who rules both earth and sky, Puts up a sad, a fervent prayer,

Whether to plunge in battle's strife, And buy his freedom with his life,

The cry of fathers, mothers, wives, Severed from all their hearts hold dear, And doomed to spend their wretched lives In gloom, and doubt, and hate, and fear; And manhood, too, with soul of fire, And arm of strength, and smothered ire, Stands pondering with brow of gloom,

The shriek of virgin purity, Doomed to some libertine's embrace,

And doomed to woe and wretchedness; The indignant wail of fiery youth, Its noble aspirations crushed, Its generous zeal, its love of truth,

The fervent prayer of the oppressed; The cry of helpless infancy Torn from the parent's fond caress

While that same flag whose stripes and stars Had been their guide through freedom's wars As proudly waved above the pen Of dealers in the souls of men!

Seen free-born men, uncharged with crime, Consigned unto a slaver's pen,— Or thrust into a prison cell, With thieves and murderers to dwell—

h no; they fought, as they believed, For the inherent rights of man; But mark, how they have been deceived By slavery's accursed plan. They never thought, when thus they shed Their heart's best blood, in freedom's cause

Because he wears a paler face.

Stripped of those rights which Nature's God Bequeathed to all the human race, Bound to a petty tyrant's nod,

America, it is to thee, Thou boasted land of liberty,— It is to thee I raise my song, Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong. It is to thee, my native land, From whence has issued many a band To tear the black man from his soil, And force him here to delve and toil; Chained on your blood-bemoistened sod, Cringing beneath a tyrant's rod,

        "Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in the Father's kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don't neglect him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to train them for God's

"I am nothing to my father, and he is nothing to me.

You may be sick among strangers," she said, "and they would send you to the poorhouse to die." Ah, that good grandmother!

I now recollected that I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the house, and I had at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his actions. Such prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, being surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to be Page 235 suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning

I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the neighboring slaveholders.

My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur greater risks. My Page 227 restlessness increased

Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, I heard the patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me.

O, those long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughts to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future!

I was never cruelly over-worked; I was never lacerated with the whip from head to foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn from one side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent my running away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life!

Yet I would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a slave,

        "$300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto girl, named Linda, 21 years age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of the law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered to me, or lodged in jail.

need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made to suffer for my fault.

I wanted no chain to be fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whose iron entereth into the soul!

hen they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, they have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own.

  When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in bed for many days. He then said, "Linda, I swear by God I will never raise my hand against you again;" but I knew that he would forget his promise.

bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure.

he old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came back;

Mighty is the power of the torturing lash

 In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage to go on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the cause of humanity

foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on the little slave's heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to sighs

do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once suffered.

doctor, as a professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of decency

But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about telling her such impure things

The light heart which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings.

compelled to realize that she is no longer a child

become prematurely knowing in evil things

why it is that her mistress hates such and such a one among the slaves

The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage

No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or even from death;

He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the most sacred commandments

Heaven!" retorted the mistress. "There is no such place for the like of her and her bastard."

Lord, come and take me!" Her mistress stood by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. "You suffer, do you?" she exclaimed. "I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too."

She had forgotten that it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child.

They were both black, and the child was very fair.

This poor woman endured many cruelties from her master and mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing baby, for a whole day and night.

and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had been used for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children from eking out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them.

She was a member of the church; but partaking of the Lord's supper did not seem to put her in a Christian frame of mind.

Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash

   My grandmother's mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold.

the linsey-woolsey dress given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges of slavery.

This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach; presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters.

I thought I should be allowed to go to my father's house the next morning; but I was ordered to go for flowers, that my mistress's house might be decorated for an evening party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property.

Moreover, they thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they were human beings.

One day, when his father and his mistress both happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated between the two; being perplexed to know which had the strongest claim upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my father reproved him for it, he said, "You both called me, and I didn't know which I ought to go to first."

my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter foster siste

which her mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern laws, a slave, being property, can hold no property. When my grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave!

she asked permission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained leave to do

His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece

And in thy shades the storm shall calm, With songs of Liberty!

Dear Liberty! upon thy breast, I languish to respire;

Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize, So often sought by blood— We crave thy sacred sun to rise, The gift of nature’s God!

Say unto foul oppression, Cease: Ye tyrants rage no more, And let the joyful trump of peace, Now bid the vassal soar.

This side the silent grave— To soothe the pain—to quell the grief And anguish of a slave?

Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief

Alas! and must I still complain— Deprived of liberty.

How long have I in bondage lain, And languished to be free!

Deprived of all created bliss, Through hardship, toil and pain!

Alas! and am I born for this, To wear this slavish chain?

And drive away my fears.

Roll through my ravished ears!

Come Liberty, thou cheerful sound, Roll through my ravished ears! Come, let my grief in joys be drowned, And drive away my fears.

Weep for the downfall of your president,Who far too late his folly must repent;

Who fell beneath the hatchet of their pride,Then like the serpent bit themselves and died!

Weep for the downfall o'er your heads and chief,Who sunk without a medium of relief;Who fell beneath the hatchet of their pride,Then like the serpent bit themselves and died!

Weep for the seas of blood the battle cost,And souls that ever hope forever lost!The ravage of the field with no recruit,Trees by the vengeance blasted to the root!

Weep for the loss the country has sustained,By which her now dependent is in jail;The grief of him who now the war survived,

The proud confederate eagle heard the sound,And with her flight fell prostrate to the ground!

Weep for the country in its present state,And of the gloom which still the future waits;

At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd; So shall the labours of the day begin More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin. Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes, Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise.

The living temples of our God below! Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light, And draws the sable curtains of the night,

Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain; Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing, Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.

Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain,O thou the leader of the mental train:In full perfection all thy works are wrought,And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.Before thy throne the subject-passions bow,Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler thou;

We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,And leave the rolling universe behind:From star to star the mental optics rove,Measure the skies, and range the realms above.There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.

Imagination! who can sing thy force?Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?