WRONG OF SLAVERY.

WRONG OF SLAVERY.

My ear is pained,My soul is sick, with every day’s reportOf wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled.There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart;It does not feel for man; the natural bondOf brotherhood is severed as the flaxThat falls asunder at the touch of fire.He finds his fellow guilty of a skinNot colored like his own; and having powerTo enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.I would not have a slave to till my ground,To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,And tremble when I wake, for all the wealthThat sinews bought and sold, have ever earned.No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart’sJust estimation prized above all price,I had much rather be myself the slave,And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.Cowper’s Task.

My ear is pained,My soul is sick, with every day’s reportOf wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled.There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart;It does not feel for man; the natural bondOf brotherhood is severed as the flaxThat falls asunder at the touch of fire.He finds his fellow guilty of a skinNot colored like his own; and having powerTo enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.I would not have a slave to till my ground,To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,And tremble when I wake, for all the wealthThat sinews bought and sold, have ever earned.No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart’sJust estimation prized above all price,I had much rather be myself the slave,And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.Cowper’s Task.

My ear is pained,My soul is sick, with every day’s reportOf wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled.There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart;It does not feel for man; the natural bondOf brotherhood is severed as the flaxThat falls asunder at the touch of fire.He finds his fellow guilty of a skinNot colored like his own; and having powerTo enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.I would not have a slave to till my ground,To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,And tremble when I wake, for all the wealthThat sinews bought and sold, have ever earned.No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart’sJust estimation prized above all price,I had much rather be myself the slave,And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.Cowper’s Task.

My ear is pained,

My soul is sick, with every day’s report

Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled.

There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart;

It does not feel for man; the natural bond

Of brotherhood is severed as the flax

That falls asunder at the touch of fire.

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colored like his own; and having power

To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,

Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.

I would not have a slave to till my ground,

To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,

And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth

That sinews bought and sold, have ever earned.

No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart’s

Just estimation prized above all price,

I had much rather be myself the slave,

And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.

Cowper’s Task.

No. 42.


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