Anti Slavery Bugle

POETRY.

For the Anti-Slavery Bugle:

THE TYRANT'S WARNING.

By Thomas wicktrshay.

"Deliver him that is spoiled out of the hand of the oppressor, lest my fury go out like fire, and burn that none can quench it."
-JEREMIAH, XXI, 12.

"Deliver him"—thus saith he,
Whose dwelling is Infinity—
The God Omnipotent—
"Deliver him whose soul is spoil'd,
Who unrequited, long has toil'd,
Whose aspirations all are foil'd,
Whose joy of life is spent.

"Deliver him whose form is bow'd
Beneath the haughty and the proud
Oppressor's power—whose wailings loud
Ascend unto my throne;
Deliver him whose soul is crush'd.
Whose spirit-breathings all are hush'd,
Whose tears in agony have gush'd
With each upheaving groan.

"Deliver him whose mental sight,
Is whelmed in dark and gloomy night,
Till it is stricken by the blight
Of his unceasing woe;
Whose spirit with oppression groans—
Who 'neath his burdens sighs and moans,
Uplooking with imploring tones,
Beseeching, 'let me go.'

"Deliver him whose wages, long
Have been witheld from him by wrong
Whose arm is weak that once was strong,
From unremitted toil;
Who crieth unto me all day,
Who bows beneath the tyrant's sway,
Until, with age, his head is gray,
And bow'd unto the soil.

"Deliver him whose heart is riven
From kindred hearts—whose wife is given
A prey before his eyes, and driven
Forever from his sight;
Whose dearest ties are torn apart,
And left alone to feel the smart
Of agony, consume his heart,
Till it is seared with blight.

"Deliver her whose child is torn
From out her arms, and rudely borne
Away, while she is left to mourn
Its loss with wailings wild;
Who feels upon her flesh the smart
Of stripes, because when forced to part
From her loved one, her breaking heart
Cries out, 'my child! my child!"

"Deliver those from whom the ray
Of Heaven's light is shut away,
Whose noble faculties all lay
In superstition's gloom;
Who 'neath the slaver's gory rod,
Are made to kiss the blighted sod,
And worship slavery's demon-god,
Then sink into the tomb.

"Deliver him whose mouth is dumb,
Lest swift destruction on you come,
With fiery vengeance for the sum
Of all your villany—
Lest like the whirlwind with its scath,
Consuming fury cross your path
And rushing in avenging wrath,
Shall crimson land and sea!

"Deliver him whom you have bound,
For quickly shall the trumpet sound,
To dash the tyrant to the ground,
Beneath the trampling heel;
For brimfull with dread vengeance flows
The red wine cup of wrath for those
Who side by side stand with my foes,
Whose doom, despair shall seal.

"Deliver him" it is the word
Of Him whose voice in darkness heard,
The elements of chaos stirr'd,
And called this world to birth;
"Deliver him, scarred with the lash.
Lest scathing thunders o'er you crash,
And waves of dark damnation dash
You from the realms of earth!"

Clinton Co., O.