THE WITNESSES. IN Ocean's wide domains Half buried in the sands, Lie skeletons in chains, With shackled feet and hands. Beyond the fall of dews, De per than P m.net lies, Fl hp, with. al. their crews, No more to sink or rise. There the back Slave-ship swims, Freighted with human forms, hose fettered, fleshless limbs, Are not the sport of storms. These are the bones of Slaves; Within Earth's wide domains Are markets for men's lives; Their necks are galled with chains, Dead bodies, that the kite In deserts makes its prey; Murders, that with affright Scare schoolboys from their play! All evil thoughts and deeds; Anger, and lust, and pride; The foulest, rankest weeds, That choke Life's groaning tide! THE WITNESSES. These are the woes of Slaves; 289 THE QUADROON GIRI. THE Slaver in the broad lagoou Under the shore his boat was tied And all her listless crew Watched the gray alligator slide Into the still bayou. Odors of orange-flowers, and spice, Reached them from time to time, Like airs that breathe from Paradise Upon a world of crime. THE QUADROON GIRL. The Planter, under his roof of thatch, The Slaver's thumb was on the latch, He seemed in haste to go. He said, "My ship at anchor rides I only wait the evening tides, And the rising of the moon." Before them, with her face upraised In timid attitude, Like one half curious, half amazed, Her eyes were, like a falcon's, gray No garment she wore save a kirtle gay, 291 |