Poetry: Self Reproof

When injured Afric's captive claim. Loads the sad gale with startling moan, The frown of deep indignant blame Bend not on Southern climes alone. Her toil, and chain, and scalding tear, Our daily board with luxuries deck, And to dark slavery's yoke severe, Our Fathers help'd to bow her neck. If slumbering in the thoughtful breast, Or justice or compassion dwell, Call from their couch the hallowed guest, The deed to prompt, the prayer to swell. Oh, lift the hand. and Peace shall bear Her olive where tho palm tree grows, And torrid Afric's desert share The fragrance of salvation's rose. But if with Pilate's stoic eye, We calmly wash when blood is spilt; Or deem a cold, unpitying sigh, Absolves us from the stain of guilt; Or if like Jacob's recreant train, Who traffick'd in a brother's wo, We hear the suppliant plead in vain, Or mock his tears that wildly flow; Will not the judgements of the skies, Which threw a shield round Joseph sold, Be roused by fetter'd Afric's cries, And change to dross th' oppressor's gold!