T H E W R O N G S OF A F R I C A, A P O E M. PART THE SECOND.
——FOR OF WHOM SUCH MASSACRE
L O N D O N: PRINTED FOR R. FAULDER, NEW BOND-STREET MDCCLXXXVIII.
A D V E R T I S E M E N T THE Author had flattered himself,that the scheme of his whole Poem would have been sufficiently evident from the first part; but having heard it urged as an objection against his work, that it was defective in its plan, he thinks it necessary to mention, that his original idea was to finish it in three parts; the first of which was intended to extend to the mode of procuring slaves on the coast of Africa—the second, to the voyage from thence to the West-Indian Islands—and the third, to the destination of the slaves, and the severities exercised on them in the colonies.——The first part, accordingly, will be found to be confined to its proper purpose; the second continues the subject, and the Author is in hopes the whole will be comprehended in the third part, though the multiplicity of materials prevents him at present from fixing any precise bounds to his work, which may also possibly be abridged, by circumstances that many in some degree invalidate the motives which first prompted the Author to this undertaking.
T H E W R O N G S OF A F R I C A.
PART THE SECOND.
FAIR is this fertile spot, which God assign'd 7
[ 8 ] The chrystal stream irriguous winds its way,And heaven's bright azure canopies the whole. Soft on his ear the voice of music breathes In grateful undulations: odours sweet From herbs and trees, from flowers of varied hue, Salute him, and in silent whispers bring The pleasing promise of the future year. —Form'd with a soul to relish all their charms, Man, wanders o'er their beauties unconfin'd, And lauds their Author: when some fiend malign, O'er all the scene his blighting influence sheds, And bids it sicken on the sated sense, To loathing and disgust.——And shall the sun, E'er from the east his glorious course begin, And not be blest by man? or that mild orb That rules the hours of night, and sooths to peace The tides of passion, hear th' insulting voice Of hopeless anguish, that perverse arraigns Her light, and bids her never more return? ——Yes——thanks to man, the scourge of all his kind And traitor to himself; who never yet
[ 9 ] Has rais'd his bounded views beyond the scopeOf selfish pleasure, and immediate good. —Yes, thanks to man; whose follies, and whose crimes, Change the fair face of nature, and pervert Her dearest gifts to evil:—breathes the air Its healthful fragrance, his misguided rage With foul contagion loads its dropping wings, Swept from the carnage of the reeking field. O'er the broad ocean, whose encircling arms Were meant to join the far dissever'd land In friendly intercourse, and wide diffuse The blessings of each different state to all, His mad ambition, sends in dread array, His messengers of terror; prompt to pour Their fiery vengeance, on each distant shore, Whose natives, to his absolute command, Their soil, their produce, liberties, and lives, Resign not. He, amidst the spicy climes Of Asia, where prolific nature pours her unappropriate, and superfluous wealth,
[ 10 ] Within his hoarded magazine confinesA nation's produce; and around its doors, With lifted hands, and unaccusing voice, Hears the meek native suplicate for food, And bids him perish; and, as tho' he fear'd Some happier spot of earth should yet remain, That bore not bleeding witness of his guilt, He, from their parent-shore, relentless tears The sons of Afric; to the madding wave, To strange diseases, to the piercing taunts Of wanton insolence, and all the wrongs That man from man can suffer, dooms their days!
Deep freighted now with human merchandize,
[ 11 ] And all the bright and variegated scene,Of hills, and groves, and lawns, and reed-built sheds, That oft had caught the prisoner's ardent eye, Not hopeless of escape, now gradual sunk To one dim hue. Amongst the sable tribes Soon spread th' alarm; when sudden from the depths Of crouded holds, and loathsome caverns, rose One universall yell, of dread despair, And anguish inexpressible; for now Hope's slender thread was broke; extinguish'd now The spark of expectation, that had lurk'd Beneath the ashes of their former joys, And o'er despondency's surrounding gloom, Had shed its languid lustre. Bold, and fierce, Of high indignant spirit, some their chains Shook menacing, and from their low'ring eyes, Flash'd earnest of the flame that burnt within: Whilst groans, and loud laments, and scalding tears, Mark'd the keen pangs of others.—Female shrieks, At intervals, in dreadful concert heard,
[ 12 ] To wild distraction manly sorrow turn'd;And ineffectual, o'er their heedless limbs, Was wav'd the wiry whip, that dropp'd with blood.
Now sunk the mournful day; but mournful still
[ 13 ] No prying eye perceiv'd it: day by daySaw the same scene renew'd; whilst prosperous gales Full towards her destin'd port the vessel bore; And gently breathing o'er the seaman's mind, Came the remembrance of his native land; The thoughts of former pleasures, former friends, Of rest and independance; heedless he, That on the miseries of others, rose The fabrick of his joys; and gratified His selfish views, whilst multitudes bewail'd Th' eternal loss of nature's dearest gifts; To them irreparable wrong, to him A slight accession to his stores of bliss.
'Twas night; and now the ship, with steady course,
[ 14 ] Of louder note ascended. Yet, even then,Each eye was wake, and ev'ry heaving breast Was panting for revenge. For now approach'd The awful hour, long hop'd for, long forefix'd, Sacred to vengeance, to the thirst of blood, And bitter retribution. Slowly roll'd The moments, whilst with anxious minds, the slaves Waited the voice that loos'd them from restraint, And turn'd them on their tyrants: not more prompt The nitrous grain, that, at the touch of fire, Bursts in resistless flame. Nor yet the voice Is heard; but thro' each deep and dark recess A hollow murmer rises, that upbraids The long delay—nor yet the voice is heard! Whilst in each agitated breast, by turns, Dismay, and doubt, and desparation reign; And fancy, now triumphant, now depress'd, Luxuriant wantons thro' the scene of blood, Or feels the fiery torture.—"Rise, revenge, "Revenge your wrongs," the expected voice exclaims,
[ 15 ] And meets a ready answer, from the tonguesOf countless numbers, from each gloomy cell, In dreadful cries return'd. But who shall tell The wild commotion; who the frantic rage Of savage fury, when, with joint accord, They burst th opposing gratings, and pour'd forth, Impetuous as the flood that breaks its mound? —What tho' unarm'd!—upon th' unsparing steel They rush'd regardless; and th' expected wound Deep, but not always deadly, rous'd their minds To fiercer desparation: thronging close, Fearless, and firm, they join'd th' unequal war; And when the fatal weapon pierc'd their side, They struggled to retain it, and in death Disarm'd the hand that conquer'd.—Thick they fell, But oft not unreveng'd, for fastening close Upon the foe some gain'd the vessel's side, And rush'd together to a watry death; Whilst from the yawning hold, emerging throngs Replac'd the vanquish'd, and, with hideous cries,
[ 16 ] Struck terror thro' the tyrants chilling veins,And bad oppression tremble. Nerveless stood The harden'd seamen: but recovering soon, They gain'd the barrier, that across the deck Its firm defence projected; then began The scene of blood; then pour'd amongst the slaves, Frantic and fierce, and madding with their wrongs, The volley'd vengeance; whilst without a foe, Misguided courage urg'd the strife in vain; And check'd by hands unseen, relax'd its powers In sudden weakness.—Terror, and surprise, Like deadly blood-hounds, seiz'd the vanquish'd crew, That stood defenceless, and expos'd, the mark Of uncontroll'd revenge; and as they fell, Without reluctance saw the purple stream, Slow welling from the fount of life, and join'd In kindred currents pour along the deck, Tinging with guiltless blood the western wave.
But hark! the sound of conquest and of joy
[ 17 ] The thrice repeated triumph, tells the heavens,That innocence once more has felt the fangs, Th' insatiate fangs of guilt, and weeps in blood Her just resistance, and her rightful aims!
Peace to your shades, ye favour'd train, who fell
[ 18 ] Th' unfeeling planter, 'midst his cultur'd isles,(Isles moist with tears, and fertiliz'd with blood) His whips, his racks, his gibbets, and his chains. ——Yours is the palm of conquest;---you have found A shelter from the hovering storm, that waits Your less successful fellows; who lament, And vainly wish to share your happier lot.
Yet not beneath oblivion's gloom to rest,
[ 19 ] Assign'd the rising virtues of the youth,Ere in the sun-like flattery of a court, Had shrunk their native vigour.—"Go," said he, "Go, and beneath Matomba's peaceful roof "Pass thy young hours; and taste those vernal sweets, "That wait not on thy riper years, ordain'd "To be thy country's sacrifice.—His hand "Shall check each wandering step that turns to ill, "And by obeying, thou shalt learn to rule."
Remote from peopled haunts, 'midst silent groves,
[ 20 ] And the gay Protea wav'd his silvery leaf,And glitter'd on the day.—A thousand plants, The favourites of the sun, whose vivid tints Decay, and sicken, in our northern climes, There in perennial lustre smil'd, nor fear'd The chilling blasts of Eurus.—To the shades Of this secure retreat, Matomba led His royal pupil; with assiduous eye Watch'd o'er his opening mind; and as he mark'd The rising spark of curiosity, Disclose its lambent blaze, with temperate hand Supplied its cravings, from the boundless store Of nature, culling what might best supply His pleasing purpose; first, the various tribes Of vegetative life, their scent, their hue, Their beauteous conformation, and theit change, Display'd a wondrous volume.—Rising hence To animated being, wonder grew To admiration; whilst the master's voice Explain'd the different habits, and the laws,
[ 21 ] Of these, that touch'd with more ethereal fire,In flood, and forest, deep beneath the earth, Or thro' the fields of air, delighted feel The consciousness of being.—Thence with man, Prime work of Heaven, he dignified his theme; And, with resistless energy, impress'd Upon the stripling's mind, the generous truths That man to man is equal; that the rights Which liberal nature gave alike to all, Tho' often crush'd beneath the hand of power, Can perish but with life:—that states were form'd For social purposes: that he who claims From subject throngs allegiance and support, Owes in return, his confidence, his love, His vigilance:—that royalty abus'd Is worse than treason; and the sovereign name, A feather'd toy, that weighs not in the scale Of universal justice.—Stern he heard, Nor shrunk the youth to hear the sacred strain; And whilst his throbbing heart confess'd its power,
[ 22 ] And the mild lustre of benevolence,Illum'd his swimming eye, "Be mine," he cry'd, "To guard my people's rights; and if I tear "With impious hands the web of public faith, "Or stain its native lustre, may the steel "Of high vindictive freedom purge the guilt."
Blest were the hours,whilst here the princely youth
[ 23 ] But years fly swift away, and swifter farWhen pleasure plumes their wings. From sweet repose, From love and leisure, to the active sphere Of public life, the royal youth withdrew: Yet not to pomp, or pride, did love resign His empire; often from the crouded court, To good Matomba's roof the prince retir'd, Delighted to recall those happier hours When life was new, to trace the conscious scenes Of past delights, whose unembitter'd charm Was dear to memory, and in lonely shades Renew the promise of perpetual truth.
It chanc'd one evening, when the cooler hour
[ 24 ] But nor th' untimely hour, nor lengthen'd way,Abridg'd the tale of love; renewing still, And still renewing its exhaustless theme; When sudden, as the crouching tyger springs Upon his prey, rush'd from a neighbouring brake, A troop of black banditti; that debauch'd By European arts, had wander'd far In search of human plunder. On the pair They seiz'd, relentless; from the struggling grasp Of strong affection tore them; nor indulg'd The last sad hope, to breathe a fond farewell To all their past endearments: pinion'd close, O'er distant mountains, and thro' trackless plains, They bore their princely victim; nor delay'd By day or night their haste, till on the shore, The white receivers grasp'd their prize; and paid With useless wares, with baubles, and with toys, The sacrilegious rape: with manacles Compress'd his wrist; with ignominious chains, Loaded his freeborn limbs; and midst the steam
[ 25 ] Of putrid exhalations thrust him deep,Beneath the world of waters; that refus'd, Tho' often call'd, to whelm him in their waves, And shield him from indignity, and shame.
Torn by conflicting passions, bar'd from air,
[ 26 ] Sweeter than music. "Prince," she cry'd, "I come"To free from weak regret thy manly mind, "And vindicate thy wrongs.—To deeds of death "Rise then! my steel shall point thy way."—She spoke, And clasp'd him to her bosom. Thro' his frame Ran fierce emotions of tumultuous joy; He spurn'd the fond complaint; no more the sigh Burst from his heart; his eyes forgot to weep; Ambition now was hush'd, the patriot hope Expired;and love himself the rule resign'd To one unbounded thirst of dread revenge.
True to the tenor of her magic voice
[ 27 ] Had wrench'd a dagger from the English chief,And plung'd it in his heart.——But vain the strife; Nor strength, nor courage, nor th' inspiring hope Of vengeance aught avail. Cymbello saw The fruitless conflict, saw around him fall His slaughter'd fellows; whilst the wily foe Secur'd from danger, dealt the leaden deaths In swift rotation.——In wild agony He turn'd his eyes; when full before him stood His lov'd Kiaza. As the sudden flash Of light'ning, gliding o'er the vault of night, Gilds with its momentary blaze, the path Of some lone traveller, 'midst the wintry storm, Then sinks in darknes; thus a beam of joy Diffus'd its transient lustre.—Swift he flew, He clasp'd the maid, whose sinking head reclin'd Upon his bosom—grief restrain'd the power Of utterance, and the big distress was told In silent tears.—With looks of ardent love He o'er her hung; and now his faultering voice
[ 28 ] Essay'd her name; but shrinking from his arms,She fell a lifeless corse. The level'd death Aim'd at her lover, had tranfix'd her heart. —Cymbello rais'd his steel;—a frantic smile Pass'd o'er his cheek;—the deadly weapon pierc'd Life's fragile barrier; near the maid he fell, Embrac'd her in his languid grasp, and died.
Shall fancy then, before the awful shrine
[ 29 ] Select a deed of more transcendant guilt,Whose crimson lustre pales not, when compar'd With the deep hue of his unvarnish'd crimes.
—But soft—perchance a tale of private woe,
[ 30 ] Whom modern pride disdains, whom avarice doomsTo pain, and insult, shall contest the palm Of high unconquer'd courage.—Listen then, Whilst truth restrains the muse's wandering step, And gives her awful sanction to the song.
—From proud ANGOLA, o'er the western main
[ 31 ] The iron gratings frown'd; design'd to barTh' ascent, 'till at the destin'd port arriv'd, The rebel throng again should meet the day. But nature, kinder than relentless man, Mock'd at th' attempt; and in her weakness strong, Controll'd his harsh design.—Amongst the slaves A swift contagion spread; from scanty food, From putrid water, and imprison'd air, Engender'd.—Shuddering now with selfish fear, Resentment dropt her rod; and Avarice flew To shield his treasure; once again were op'd The dorrs, and on the breezy deck were led Th' emaciate crowd of slaves; but not in throngs Promiscuous, for suspicion, yet alarm'd By former dangers, into number'd ranks Had class'd them; and with chains, together bound Thrice five reluctant wretches: for an hour Allow'd to breathe the gale; the seek again Their loathsome dungeon, whilst successive ranks Of equal number, occupied the place.
[ 32 ] Mark! on the deck a train of sufferers sitClose rang'd and link'd; meanwhile a chearful gale Fills the broad canvas; and the vessel skims Light o'er the dashing brine.—But see, their breasts Beat high!—a look of secret joy illumes Each sable front!—their shivering limbs confess The unexpress'd idea!——See they rise, At once they rise; and with consenting step Rush towards the prow!—A momentary glance Gives the dread signal; and they headlong plunge Amidst the ocean.—Haste, ye heedless crew, Haste check the sails, and sidelong to the breeze Oppose the vessel's breadth; for see, again, Your captives from the circling waves emerge, And rang'd in order, once again approach The ship, and court a parley! Now discard Your looks ferocious; in your alter'd eye Let kindness beam, and sordid interest wear The mask of mercy:—of a kinder fate, Of fruitful shores, in early prospect speak;
[ 33 ] And let the sound of freedom, drop like balmUpon their wounded feelings.—Hear they not?— —They hear and spurn the treachery.—High they raise Their arms, abhorrent of the chains they bear; And sink indignant midst the rolling waves.
Immortal FREEDOM! vivifying sun
[ 34 ] And far as memory traces back my years,My soul, tho' touch'd with social sympathies, Revolted at oppression.——Nymph divine! If from the sound of Milton's golden lyre; Of Thomson's Doric pipe, that pour'd thy praise In one full tide of music; and the strain Of him, who sick of outrage and of wrong, Sigh'd for "a lodge in some vast wilderness, "Some boundless continuity of shade," Thou now withhold thine audience:—hither turn Indulgent; for tho' sweeter song hath charm'd, Yet praise sincerer never met thine ear.
Recall we then the days, when from the shores
[ 35 ] Clamorous? whilst wasted on the self-same gale,The groans of slaughter'd Helots pierc'd thine ears; Or the shrill shriek of slaves, that unaccus'd, Expir'd upon the rack?—For this thy wrath Was kindled; soon at thy vindictive frown, Their lofty towers, and strong cemented walls. Shook to their base: thine heav'nly temper'd spear Struck the firm earth; and from the teeming North, And furious East, the torrents of thine ire Rush'd, ready to destroy. Where once thy smile Bad yellow harvests wave, and Plenty pour Her unexausted horn; where once thy voice Inspir'd the patriot breast, and steel'd the arm Inimical to tyrants; priests and slaves Now people all the land; and squalid want Sits on the desert champain, and derides The vows, that idly rise to heaven, and ask Its undeserv'd indulgence. From their fate, Ye nations learn, that what ye free receive, Ye freely give: and O beware the touch
[ 36 ] Of foul domestic slavery! that instillsIts deadly venom thro' each secret pore, And taints the vital source of public weal.
But why, O nymph! shall man's averted eye,
[ 37 ] The fleeting sound, and give to lands remote,And ages yet to come, the genuine song. And now, the kindling nations feel the strain; And starting from their lethargy, that seem'd The fatal sleep of death; exulting, hail The day-spring of thine empire. Even they, The sons of Seine and Loire, have thrown aside The flimsy covering, that but ill conceal'd Their inward pangs; nor more, with ideot joy, Dance to the sound, and glitter of their chains. Led on by thee, they learn to know their worth, And claim the rights of men; and who shall dare, When justice arms, and liberty inspires, To place a barrier to their bold career?
And see, the adamantine doors unfold;
[ 38 ] Of solemn silence, on the wondering senseImposes deep attention: now bursts forth Thine energetic voice; and whilst it thrills Thro' every vein, the firm dilated soul Feels more than mortal: all the nobler powers Of man, are up in arms, and throng to join Thy standard; firm integrity, and truth And spotless honour, and impartial love, And uncorrupted justice. Hear the sound, Ye nations! nor refuse the sacred strain Thro; the faint medium of a mortal tongue.
"O sons of men! O progeny belov'd
[ 39 ] "For the deep gloom of ignorance; where dwell"A thousand spectre forms, the hateful brood "Of fancy, when she vainly shun'd the grasp "Of terror? Who that saw the chrystal spring "Gush plenteous from its source, wou'd turn his step "To drink pollution from the stagnant pool? "—O shame to manhood! that the sacred light "Of reason, damp'd by fear, should faintly pour "An half-extinguish'd blaze! or lend its aid, "Whilst avarice, and ambition, forge the chains "That bind the vulgar herd; who bow their necks, "And from obedience arrogate applause!
"Yet is not man forsaken:—from the seats
[ 40 ] "Infus'd a secret vigor thro' the land;"In toils and death unconquer'd.—Thence arose "That equaliz'd dominion, liberal rule, "Where not dependant on the sovereign breath, "The people hold their rights; but just restraints "Affect the whole, and leave each portion free; "As yon bright orbs revolve their fated rounds, "Each in its sphere; yet feel the strong controul "Of relative dependance.—Nor shall cease "The fair example, till thro' Europe's bounds "It spread; and wondering nations emulate "This last lov'd offspring of my riper cares.
"But ah! what sounds of sorrow load the gale,
[ 41 ] "Wielding the shameless whip.—I see the wretch"Fall, and cling prostrate round his tyrant's feet; "Whilst by expressive gestures,—nature's mute "But powerful eloquence, he vainly strives "To mitigate his fury.—Now he quits "His fainting grasp!—But o'er th' atrocious deed "O let Oblivion wrap her deepest shade; "Lest fiends look on, and blush, that man shall dare "So far beyond the bounds of his Maker plac'd.
"And can it be? that man, by nature form'd
[ 42 ] "—Ah knows he not, that partial bliss depends"On general happiness; that when he plants "In nature's breast a dagger, every part "Partakes the anguish? that the copious stream "Of universal bliss, devolves along "Like some broad river; thro' its wide extent, "To every nation, and to all mankind, "Diffusing health and gladness; but detach'd "In partial channels, stagnates in its course, "And foul and putrid spreads corruption round.
"—Yes—he shall learn.—A beam of light divine
[ 43 ] "And shore to shore re-echoes with my name;"And to the mercy-seat of God, asends "The odour of a grateful sacrifice, "Of truth, and justice, and unbounded love."
A Note on the Text
The Wrongs of Africa, A Poem. Part the Second (London: R. Faulder, 1788)
This e-text is located at www.brycchancarey.com/slavery/roscoe2.htm
Authorship: The poem, commissioned by the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the African Slave Trade, was written by William Roscoe.
The poem is in two parts, which appeared seperately. Click Here for the full text of part one. A third part was apparently intended, but either Roscoe did not complete it, or it was not brought to the press.
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