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POEMS.
America[1] shall grateful weep the Sage,Who stemmed the torrent of Oppression's rage,Cherished her generous zeal, and joyed to seeHer injured Offspring's efforts to be free.On Afric's[2] burning plains her sable Sons,While down their cheeks the stream of sorrow runs,Shall bless the Man, who bade them dread no moreThe servile chain, and scourge which streams with gore.And (nearer home) embattled Powers, who sighTo sheath the sword, and hoped, that rest was nigh,Shall feel with Fox's death those hopes decrease,And bleeding Europe mourn the Friend of Peace.
In forms of fire stamped on my heart and brain,This day's funereal pomp shall still remain:
  1. ↑ The American War.
  2. ↑ His efforts to abolish the Slave-Trade; in which He had succeeded so far as to prevent more vessels from being employed in this traffic.
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