The Tears of a Slave

The Tears of a Slave

Adieu, to my dear native shore,
To toss on the boisterous wave;
To enjoy my kindred no more,
But to weep - the tears of a SLAVE!

By the sons of freemen I'm borne,
To a land of the free and the brave;
From my wife and children I'm torn,
To weep - the sad tears of a SLAVE!

When, I think on mother and friends,
And the joy their countenance gave;
Ah! how my sad bosom it rends,
While weeping - the tears of a SLAVE!

Ah! now, I must labour for gold,
To pamper the pride of a knave;
Ah! now, I am shackled and sold
To weep - the sad tears of a SLAVE!

Keen sorrow so presses my heart,
That often I sigh for my grave;
While feeling the lash' - cruel smart!
And weeping - the tears of a SLAVE!

Ye sons, of the free and the wise,
Your tender compassion I crave;
Alas! can your bosoms despise?
The pitiful tears of a SLAVE!

Can a land of Christians so pure!
Let demons of slavery rave!
Can the angel of mercy endure,
The pitiless - tears of a SLAVE!

Just Heaven, to thee I appeal;
Hast thou not the power to save?
In mercy thy power reveal,
And dry - the sad tears of a SLAVE.

Africus

1:51, p. 202

1828.03.14