« 上一页继续 »
For she was rich, and gave up all
To break the iron bands
And labored in her lands.
Long since beyond the Southern Sea
Their outbound sails have sped, While she, in meek humility,
Now earns her daily bread.
It is their prayers, which never cease,
That clothe her with such grace; Their blessing is the light of peace
That shines upon her face.
THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP.
IN dark fens of the Dismal Swamp
The hunted Negro lay ;
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, And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine
Is spotted like the snake;
Where hardly a human foot could pass,
Or a human heart would dare, On the quaking turf of the green morass He crouched in the rank and tangled grass,
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,
All things were glad and free; Lithe squirrels darted here and there, And wild birds filled the echoing air
With songs of Liberty !
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!