8. TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE.

Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men! Whether the rural Milk-maid by her Cow Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den, O miserable chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a chearful brow: Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

9.

September 1st, 1802.

We had a fellow-Passenger who came From Calais with us, gaudy in array, A Negro Woman like a Lady gay, Yet silent as a woman fearing blame; Dejected, meek, yea pitiably tame, She sate, from notice turning not away, But on our proffer'd kindness still did lay A weight of languid speech, or at the same Was silent, motionless in eyes and face. She was a Negro Woman driv'n from France, Rejected like all others of that race, Not one of whom may now find footing there; This the poor Out-cast did to us declare, Nor murmur'd at the unfeeling Ordinance.

10. COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY, near DOVER, On the Day of landing.

Dear fellow Traveller! here we are once more. The Cock that crows, the Smoke that curls, that sound Of Bells, those Boys that in yon meadow-ground In white sleev'd shirts are playing by the score, And even this little River's gentle roar, All, all are English. Oft have I look'd round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in Bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.

11.

September, 1802.

Inland, within a hollow Vale, I stood, And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear, The Coast of France, the Coast of France how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood. I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood Was like a Lake, or River bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there! What mightiness for evil and for good! Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise: Winds blow, and Waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity, Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the Soul Only the Nations shall be great and free.