Created by Emily Crider on Tue, 02/04/2025 - 12:29
Page 23 of EBB's manuscript of "The African."
Accession #: EBB MSS, D0015.1
Transcription:
"Should all that kindness be forgot
"And vanish like the morn of day?
"Old man, Heaven, – Nature answers nay!
"My hope, my strength. . . . ."
"Oh tell me where—"
‘My strength, the Christians strength, is there?"
He raised his hand to that pure Heaven,
And from his fired enraptured eye
The radiant smile of piety
Beamed like the last fond ray of even.
He wrung the old man’s hand, and flushed
With glorious ardor, midst the wood,
Undaunted by the thoughts of blood,
The son of Afric rushed –
The moon is up, her wat’ry ray,
Gently on the dark leaves flowing,
Beams upon the plantain shade
And sweetly smiles a softer day,
Serene in quiet beauty glowing; –
And the long shadows deepen in the glade.
But what forms break the gentle rest
Of that celestial night –
And thus to strife, to combat rush –
And, struggling, grapple breast to breast?
The long axe blazing bright – –
Blows fall, & life’s streams gush –
