A Sketch

A Sketch

I'll ask one simple question -

There stands a man created by the God
That form'd the arch of heaven - that made the sea -
The teeming earth, and every living thing,
And when his word was done, pronounced it good.

God is a righteous God!

That man breathes the same air that others breathe -
Is warmed by the same sun - chilled by the cold -
His hunger is appeased by the same food -
Can feel like joys - is subject to like pains -
Has every sense that other men possess -
Can love - and sympathise - and hope - and fear -
And is ambitious - thirsteth after fame -
Panteth for glory, and has lofty thoughts,
And ardent longings to be great - the same
As dwell within the breasts of other men.

He is a husband - has a wife he loves,
And she repays that love with adoration;
And the same ties are cluster'd 'round his heart
And interwoven with his very life -
He is a parent, too; his little ones
Are dear to him - yes! very dear to him;
And their sweet prattle, and their noisy glee,
And sportive gambols, make his woes seem light,
And make him feel that life is less a load.
He loves his children; when their little tongues
First lisped, "my father!" - how the tones did
thrill,
And echo through his soul! They are the same
In every point of view - the same to him
As other parents' children are to them. The husband, wife, and little ones - are slaves!
Are held in bondage, too, by christian men,
And their inheritance is - whips and chains!

My fellow mortals! - You who must appear
At the same Bar, before the Almighty God
With them, and me - where there's no difference
made
Between the black and white - the rich and poor -
Master and slave - the oppressor and oppressed -
Where all will stand upon an equal ground,
Before a Judge who knows no partiality,
I pray you answer me - say,

I'll ask one other question:

Is't not enough that they do toil and smart,
And wear their fetters - bear their grieves
together?
No, no! - but they must part and still be slaves!

This little family, whose only joy

And comfort is each other's company,
Must now be sever'd - yes! this living chain
Whose every link is feeling hearts - must break
And they be scattered. If in your bosoms there is left one drop
Of blood that carries pity through your veins,
Look on this picture, (blotted though it be,)
And let your conscience feel its homely truths;
And then before your God, and by the hope
You have in Heaven, answer -


Look on that frantic woman - see her tears,
As she clings to the children that she loves;
Behold her manacled hands raised toward Heaven,
And hear her supplications - hear her plead
That they'll not part the mother from her babes.
- The knotted lash that tears her quivering flesh
Answers the prayer. Now tell me -


And see that manly bosom - how it heaves
With griefs unutterable! See the gushing tears
Roll down his cheek! He weeps - aye, you would
weep
Were your heart wrung with anguish as is his.

He is the father of those crying boys,

Now running to him for a last embrace: -
He is the husband of that bleeding form
He's folding to his bosom: * * *
That was their last farewell. Yes - torn asunder - never more to meet
This side the grave - I ask you


ORONO, MAY, 1838.

James Henry Carleton

2:22, p. 86

1838.07.21

From the Advocate of Freedom