By the scourges blacken'd o'er
And stiff and hard with human gore,
By every groan of deep distress,
By every curse of wretchedness,

By all the train of Crimes that flow
From the hopelessness of Woe,
By every drop of blood bespilt,

By Afric's wrongs and Europe's guilt,

Awake! arise! avenge!

And thou hast heard! and o'er their blood-fed plains

Swept thine avenging hurricanes ;

And bade thy storms with whirlwind roar

Dash their proud navies on the shore;

And where their armies claim'd the fight
Wither'd the warrior's might;

And o'er the unholy host with baneful breath, There, Genius, thou hast breathed the gales of Death.

1795.

THE SAILOR,

WHO HAD SERVED IN THE SLAVE TRADE.

In September, 1798, a Dissenting Minister of BRISTOL discovered a Sailor in the neighbourhood of that City, groaning and praying in a cow-house. The circumstance which occasioned his agony of mind is detailed in the annexed Ballad, without the slightest addition or alteration. By presenting it as a Poem the story is made more public, and such stories ought to be made as public as possible.

THE SAILOR,

WHO HAD SERVED. IN THE SLAVE TRADE.

It was a Christian minister,

Who, in the month of flowers,

Walk'd forth at eve amid the fields
Near Bristol's ancient towers.

When from a lonely out-house breathed,

He heard a voice of woe,

And groans which less might seem from pain, Than wretchedness to flow;

Heart-rending groans they were, with words

Of bitterest despair,

Yet with the holy name of Christ

Pronounced in broken prayer.