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For she was rich, and gave up
To break the iron bands
Of those who waited in her hall,
Long since beyond the Southern Sea
It is their prayers, which never cease
IN laik fens of the Dismal Swamp
He saw the fire of the midnight camp.
And heard at times a horse's tramp
And a bloodhound's distant bay.
Where will-o'-the wisps and glowworms shine, In bulrush and in brake;
Where waving mosses shroud the pine,
THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP. 283 Where hardly a human foot could pass.
Or a human heart would dare,
On the quaking turf of the green morass
Like a wild beast in his lair.
A poor old slave, infirm and lame;
Great scars deformed his face;
On his forehead he bore the brand of shame. And the rags, that hid his mangled frame, Were the livery of disgrace.
All things above were bright and fair,
POEMS ON SLAVERY.
On him alone was the doom of pain.
From the morning of his birth; On him alone the curse of Cain
Fell, like a flail on the garnered grain,
And struck him to the earth i
LOUD he sang the psalm of David:
Sang of Israel's victory,
In that hour, when night is calmest,
Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,