Fowle's New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

Parnassian Spring

On the Death of an African Slave,
Condemned for Rebellion in Jamaica.

I SPAT, ah! calm thy cares to rest
Firm and unmov'd am I.
In freedom's cause I bared my breast:
In freedom's cause I die.
Ah stop! thou dost me fatal wrong:
Nature will yet rebel,
For I have lov'd thee very long,
And lov'd thee very well.
To native skies and peaceful bow'rs
I soon shall wing my way;
Where joy shall wing the circling hours,
Unless too long they stay.
O speed fair sun! thy course divine,
My ABRALA remove:
There thy bright beams shall ever shine,
And I for ever love.
On those blest shores-(a slave no more!)
In peaceful ease I'll stray:
O rouse to chase the mountain boar,
As unconfin'd as day.
No Christian Tyrant there is known
To mark his steps with blood:
Nor sable mis'ry piercing groan
Rebounds through ev'ry wood.
Yet have I heard the plaintive tongue,
Have seen the falling tear,
Known the good heart by pity stung
Ah! that such hearts are rare!
Now, Christian! glut thy ravish'd eyes,
--I reach the joyful hour:
Now bid the scorching flames arise,
And those poor limbs devour:
But how, pale tyrant! 'tis not thine,
Eternal war to wage:
The death thou giv'st shall but combine
T' o mock thy baffled rage.
O death! how welcome to th' opprest!
Thy kind embrace I crave:
Thou bring'st to mis'ry's bosom rest,
And FREEDOM to the SLAVE.

He is supposed to address his wife at the place of execution.