Page 11 of EBB's manuscript of "The African."
Accession #: EBB MSS, D0015.1
Transcription:
That haughty soul which dared to sigh
For life? – Ah no – for liberty!
Night fades in silent gloom away
And rising o’er those dark blue seas
Swept lightly by the gentle breeze
Shines the young orb of day.
And the pure depths of air, are tinged with mildest grey –
Still still upon the pitying shore
Doth Afric’s daughter sleep,
But that rude Chief is there no more
Who only slavery feared –
And rustling midst the forest’s deep
His step is heard!!
And this then is thy fate
Sweet child of woe?
And thou must breathe below
Yet lone and desolate!
Still shedding his accustomed ray
Yon sun may o’er thy soft form smile,
And still ambrosial day
May glad this favored isle
Earth still is fair, but thou wilt never
Her lovely scenes, without alloy,
With innocent mirth enjoy. . .
Hope’s sweetest buds, doth anguish sever
And all thy joys are snapped. . . for ever!
She moves – she wakes –
The shrieking sea gulls cry