Thus, to the long-lov'd partner of his reign,
Spoke great Alexiowits , in death's last pain:
Now, be the world's vast empire yours, alone;
She heard — re-claim'd his breast, and scorn'd his throne,
Glad, to the realms of light, a ghost, she flew ,
Found her lost lord, and charm'd him, to her view.
O! check th' amazement, in your looks, she cry'd,
Nor blame th'impatient haste, with which, I dy'd.
Kind was your trust — but, when you ceas'd to share ,
You left the world, you gave, beneath my care,

You've heard it, and read it, a million of times,
That men are made up of delusions , and crimes .
Look over old stories, and search all the new ,
You'll find, in love-trusts , not a man of us, true.
Then, why this reproachful , and termagant face?
Why so feelingly fierce , for another's disgrace?
Oh! I learn, by your blush , the true cause of your pain,
You were bit , by the tooth against which you complain .
What a pity, this sense of a sufferer's fate,
Came a little too home , and a good deal too late!

Is't possible? who will believe
A spirit can wounded be and grieve?
What hath no body needs no blows to fear:
Yet 'tis most true,
God's Word tells you,
" A wounded spirit who can bear? "

One thing there is a soul will wound
So deeply, that 'twill bleed and swound,
And even dye for grief, for shame, for fear:
Sin is the thing
Doth all this bring.
" A wounded spirit who can bear? "

Sin's a two-edged sword which slayes
The soul of man a thousand wayes:
It kil'd the divell though he a spirit were,

Who said the Black Man never lived
In History with his deeds most great?
The liar, thief and cowardly man
Who tries to boss the Negro's fate.

He gave to Europe codes of laws,
And took the Greeks from out their pen:

He sent his gods to foreign lands
To show the light to other men.

Let Black Men feel as proud men should,
For they do have a past most bright:
They gave out thoughts and made men think
Of them as gods far up the height. —

O, no, I never will grow old;
 Though years on years roll by,
And silver o'er my dark brown hair,
 And dim my laughing eye,

They shall not shrivel up my soul ,
 Nor dim the glance of love
My heart casts on this world of ours,
 And lifts to that above!

Now, with a passion for those haunts
 Where wild, free nature reigns,
With life's tide leaping through my heart,
 And revelling through my veins,—

'T is hard to think the time must come
 When I can seek no more,
With step bold as a mountain child's,

Man like a silly sheep doth often stray,
Not knowing of his way.
Blind deserts and the wilderness of sin
He daily travels in;
There's nothing wil reduce him sooner then
Afflictions, to his pen.
He wanders in the sunshine, but in rain
And stormy weather hastens home again.

Thou the great Shepherd of my soul, O keep
Me thy unworthy sheep.
From gadding: or if fair means wil not do it
Let foul then bring me to it.
Rather then I should perish in my error,
Lord bring me back with terror;
Better I be chastizèd with Thy rod

Have I not many things in heaven and earth
Besides Thee, that are worth
The having and desiring? Have I not
Some friends, some riches got,
Some honours too; and may increase my store
Of all these three yet more?
Excuse me then — my God — if that I pray,
And covet somewhat else for to enjoy.

Besides these earthly there are things in heaven
Which for my use are given;
The Sun, and Moon and Stars which do dispense
Their light, heat, influence;
Angels and Saints to whom in my distress
May I not make addresse?

To value tears I now begin,
Since Thou Lord dost provide,
A bottle for to put them in
That none shall fall beside;
One drop will raise a sinner from a swound;
What pity 'tis to spill them on the ground!

I spill them when I spend them on
Vain trifles. Worldly losses,
They are not worthy of a groan,

I look upon life's glorious things,
The deathless themes of song,
The grand, the proud, the beautiful,
The wild, the free, the strong,
And wish that I might take a part
Of what to them belong.

Behold, the fearless Ship goes forth,
Where ocean billows sweep;
Proud as a steed, swift as a bird,
She dashes through the deep!
Her drapery of snowy sail
Around her stately form, —

I.

Come, walk, and rouse the languid year:
All nature blooms, when you appear;
Each leafless oak would bud a-new,
And push out shade , to shelter you.
Your sight would summer's want supply;
You gone — 'tis winter — and we die .

II.

Yon warbling nightingale complains,
Your praise , too seldom, tempts her strains:
The tow'ring lark but hears you sing,
And soars, to heav'n, with silent wing.
Come, angels , come, (he cries) — and see
Yourselves , as much out-done, as me .