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[nb some missing text pulled from alternate copies] | |||
[pg] 200 | |||
The Negro's Complaint | The Negro's Complaint | ||
[Nb, very well known poem by Wm Cowper, 1788] | |||
Forc'd from home and all its pleasures, | Forc'd from home and all its pleasures, | ||
| Line 24: | Line 29: | ||
Sweat of ours must dress the soil. | Sweat of ours must dress the soil. | ||
Think ye, Masters, ironhearted, | Think ye, Masters, ironhearted, | ||
[L]olling at your jovial boards; | |||
Think how many backs have smarted | Think how many backs have smarted | ||
For the sweets your cane affords. | For the sweets your cane affords. | ||
4 | 4 | ||
Is there as ye sometimes tell us, | Is there as ye sometimes tell us, | ||
[Is] there one who reigns on high? | |||
Has he bid you to buy and sell us | Has he bid you to buy and sell us | ||
Speaking how his throne -- the sky? | Speaking how his throne -- the sky? | ||
Ask him if your knotted scourges, | Ask him if your knotted scourges, | ||
[M]atches blood extorting screws | |||
[A]re the means wch duty urges, | |||
[A]gents of his Will to use. | |||
Revision as of 07:58, 21 July 2017
[nb some missing text pulled from alternate copies] [pg] 200 The Negro's Complaint [Nb, very well known poem by Wm Cowper, 1788]
Forc'd from home and all its pleasures, Afric's coast I left forlorn; To encrease a stranger's treasures, O'er the raging willows born. Men from England bought and sold me, Paid my prince in paltry gold: But tho theirs they have enroll'd me, Minds are never to be sold.
2
Still is thought as free as ever What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delight to sever, Me to torture me to task? Fleecy locks and black complexion, cannot forfeit natures claim: Theirs may differ, but Affection Dwells in white and black the same.
3
Why did all creating nature Make the plant for wch we toil? Sighs must fan it, tears must water Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think ye, Masters, ironhearted, [L]olling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.
4
Is there as ye sometimes tell us, [Is] there one who reigns on high? Has he bid you to buy and sell us Speaking how his throne -- the sky? Ask him if your knotted scourges, [M]atches blood extorting screws [A]re the means wch duty urges, [A]gents of his Will to use.