Of Britain? how declare her crimes? how tell
Of brethren carried from their homes,-their all
Of happiness destroyed,-their country left
Far in the distant wave, while they are borne
To other countries, other climes,-there forc'd
By blows man would not offer to his beast,

By threats,-than which hell's promise scarce were worse, -
By curses, oaths, and lacerated flesh,

And nameless other cruelties, to till

The ground on which they were not born; to rear
The plant for which they care not, and whose worth
They ne'er receive;-sufficient just to keep
Their life within them,-is their own, no more;
To sweat and wear away that life for whom
They love not, that their tyrants may enjoy
The fruits of their hard labour,-rendered rich
And grateful to their palate, by the thought
Of all the stripes and sufferings and woes
And ignominy that the slaves endured,
To gratify their carnal appetite.

Such in the Western Indies is the state

Of men,-of brethren though in colour chang'd,
The Britain from the Afric ;-

-as the sun

The fruit makes darker which remains exposed

To noontide warmth, than that which lies concealed
In shade impenetrable:-brethren both,-

Sons of one parent, bearing visibly

Alike, God's image on their front; alike
Their form, their senses, appetites, and lusts,
Their wants, their reason;-all alike but hue
And power;-and the Briton's heart is black
As is the Afric's outside,-he within,
Comparatively pure ;-and for the power
The Briton has superior, has the black
The greater feeling, more humanity,

More meekness, patience, virtue, and is viewed
By God with wrath less hot, with far more love.
'Nor doth the Eastern Indian make appeal
Less loud, less forcible; atrocity

May perhaps shun the noontide splendour there,-
Dark outrage, the meridian sun;-but groans,
The voice of kings and people dispossess'd
Of country, justice, wealth, and, though the last
Mentioned, the dearest to the soul of man,-
Their independence and their liberty,-
The voice of kings and people, bowed by yoke
Of strangers whom they know not, of a land
That felt no injury from them ;-the voice
Of millions of immortal souls, of minds
That must endure through all eternity,
Soliciting of fellow-men the rights

Made free by God to all-for all ordained,-
Are wafted ceaseless to the British shores,
To British ears, but not to British hearts.
These far-famed sons of freedom boasting tell
Of Indian tyrants slain, dislodged, through whose
Oppression and abuse of power, and foul
Extortion, were the people sunk in slavery ;-
By them dislodg'd;-but better far the sway
Of native tyrants, native conquerors,
Than that of strangers to them barbarous,
Far distant and unknown, or never known
But as the lawless victors, as a horde
Of restless, avaricious despots, men
Whose ruling passion is the spirit malign
Of lust, of power, and of wealth.-Alas!
My country! slavish souls are sons of thine.
But hark! I hear another sound distinct,
Across the Western Sea;-from Canada,
Majestic province! grand and wondrous work,
And beautiful as grand, of God Almighty.
But 'tis not like the others, a shrill cry,
A plaintive pray'r for freedom; these are not,
Like Afric's sons, or India's, crushed beneath
The tyrant's yoke, as brutes and not as men
Considered;-mortals they are deemed by sons
Of Britain, though unworthy still of full
And free participation in the rights

Of Britain's subjects;-why unworthy? why
Unequal to their brethren of the East?

The rous'd Canadian knows not; and of strength
And arms, and power possess'd, he utters not
A plaintive pray'r for freedom, but demands,
With tone indignant, and a low-breathed threat,
A restoration to all nature's rights!

And what says Britain?-With a jealous eye
Fix'd full and steadfast on the blooming land,
The free and independent states, once her's,-
Till, wearied of the proud tyrannic rule
They cast it from them,-with an eye full fix'd
On these self-liberated, ancient slaves,
A bosom that still beats with humbled pride,
Unvented spleen, and mortifying shame
At her defeat, till then unheard of, loss
Of empire vast, of what to her had been
Most dear, the brightest jewel of her crown;
And, with a heart untutor'd by the past,
Still proud and haughty, obstinate and vain,
Inflexible to counsel, by reproof

Unsoftened, by demands and pray'rs unmoved,
Untouch'd, and by her punishments unwarn'd,—

She turns to the Canadian's loud complaints

An unstopped ear,-and to his low-breathed threats-
Low, but alarming, awful, deep, and full,—
The jeer deriding and the laugh of scorn.

O Britain! thou who standest so secure

In thine own might, to thine own power trusting,-
Take heed and ponder, that thou fallest not.
Laugh on, and take thy fill of joy while joy
And smiles remain,-while thou hast pow'r to laugh;
Aye, revel in thy bliss, while bliss is thine
And thou canst revel; for afar I see
In the horizon's outskirts, half obscured
By hazy mists impervious by the sight,
A seeming speck, portending, O my land!
My country thy humiliation deep,
Thy slavery, thy fall; unless thou turn
Thee from thy evil ways, -repent and live.
Like the approach of prowling midnight thief
Deceitful, shall it come, unseen, unheard.
Thou in thy bed shalt lie thee down in peace,
But wake in sadness sorrowful; thy laugh
Shall turn to weeping, and to grief thy joy,-
To slavery thy vaunted freedom ;-dust
Shall be thy garments,-ashes be thy bed,-
Thy meat affliction,-and thy tears thy drink-
And marred shall be thy beauty; so despoiled,
That even thy familiar friends shall pass
And know thee not;-while they, thine enemies,
To scorn shall laugh thee, shall revile thy state,
Mock at thy fallen grandeur and thy pride
Reproach, and tread thy glory under foot.
Be wise! avert the evil day, and live.'

pp. 120-127.

But are subjects of political economy and great national questions a fit theme for satire or poetical declamation? We think not: they are beyond its grasp and reach. Satire may aim its light shafts at flying follies with success; and sometimes, though rarely, may put to flight, or at least put to shame, some palpable improprieties. If vice can be made ridiculous, something is gained for the cause of virtue. But national sins and legislative delinquencies, the political vices of statesmen, the deep-seated disorders of the heart, ambition, pride, avarice, the sins of the church and the priesthood,-these kinds go not out by means of such exorcism. We question whether Cowper himself, the most virtuous and amiable of satirists, ever effected much by lashing the Church and State of his age. Had he lived in the present day, he would have chosen a far different strain. The present Writer, however, we must do him the justice to say, is not blind to the more pleasing features of the age he sings.

I envy not the spirit that alone

In the dark vista of futurity,

Known to God only, can discern dark shapes
And fearful spectres, apparitions dull;

Can hear alone the bitter wailing cry,

The startling screech, and the dread voice of doom ;-
Mine eye I feast on many a scene of joy;
Behind the darkest cloud is visible

To me, the splendour of a noon-day sun ;-
Forms I perceive, and shadows;—but the forms
Are angel-spirits stretching out their arms,--
Auspicious signal!-and the shadows dark
To me appear the ghosts of sin and woe,
From earth their bodies banished;-and I hear
A choir of heav'nly music, soft as sweet,
And sweet as cheering;-and a burst of joy
From bands of souls immortal, in their bliss!

But wander back, my harp, again to earth,
And tell one other cause, which, manifest
In Britain, helps to light within my soul
The torch of hope,to drive away despair!
There seems a watchfulness, a looking for,
An expectation, an anxiety

Ev'ry rank

For some great change approaching.
And party, of a crisis seem aware:-
Some, eager for its coming. They will stir
Their every energy, and exercise

Their influence, to aid th' expected birth,
To urge on its arrival,-to prepare.
Their fellow creatures for this great event;
While on the rest appears a look of doubt,
Of terror and alarm;-each whispers each
Of former warnings known to Ages past,
Of old, portentous signals ;-but abroad
They speak not of it; stillness then and gloom
Distinguish them;-like nature, gloomy, still,
Prior to an eruption, to a crash,

A fierce contention of her elements!

And in America there too appear

Like symptoms, like prognostics of a fate

At no great distance.-But America

Than her less ardent parent, shows more life,

More stir, more motion, more of gladsome joy!
And in her history of late are seen
Blessings more copious,-more of charity
And love divine,-and more of the effusion
Of the most Holy Spirit of our God!
She has attained a giant's strength, ere Time
Her energies hath dried ;—and wisdom's crown,
Before her locks are sprinkled through with gray,

Or wasted are her powers!-Shall she lead
The triumph in Creation's jubilee ?--
Known unto God are all things, and his will
Shall prosper! ever shall his counsel stand!'

pp.

Then is it not an Age for hope?-Hope thou,
My soul, in God;-and to His Sovereign will
Submit the issue.-Spirit of my God,-
Thou who at Pentecost didst warm the hearts,
The tongues inspire of thy disciples,-warm
The hearts, and fire the tongues, and give success
To the endeavours, of thy faithful seed
On earth; nor their remaining hope defer,
Till sick become their spirits. Shine O God,
Upon them;-show thyself their watchful friend,
Their errless guide, firm stay, and sure support;
Their justifier, and their gracious God.
Give pinions to thy truth,-and bid it fly
With a resistless energy, propelled
For ever onward by thine own soft breath,
Into each bosom, into every heart.

'Great Author and Proprietor of thought!
Master of clear perception !-on the earth
Diffuse still more this heav'nly principle!
Give to mankind clear judgment, to discern
Reality from falsehood,-shadows vague,
Deceitful semblances,-from honest truths,
Substance material;-to understand
Thy will, thy holy pleasure ;-to perceive
Thy track in the deep waters ;-and to trust
To thee, Almighty, shouldst thou bid them walk
In the dark barren desert, where to doubt

Is death ;-or on the billows of the sea,
Where infidelity is ruin,-want

Of faith, destruction ;-or in death's lone vale,
Where languishes humanity,-where flesh
Sinks unavailing, and all earthly hope

Hath fled the bosom ;-Then, my God, impart

Assurance of thy presence to their soul;

288-291.

Fill them with heaven, with Thee ;-nor let them feel
A thought terrific ;-be thyself their thought!
And mingle with each impulse of their heart!

Visit, O Lord, the earth!-It pants and thirsts
For the refreshing, vivifying dew,

The moisture of thy breath of blessing. Stay,
Defer not, Great Jehovah!-Hasten down
In fullest plenitude of mercy, clad
In all-creating love; and the wide carth