The Liberator

From the Register.

THE HUSBAND SLAVE DESTINED FOR THE ALABAMA MARKET.

Arise, my wife, for lo! the East
Proclaims the coming day;
Rise from thy lowly bed of straw,
Ere I am forced away.
The morning breezes fan the leaves—
The birds on every spray
Warble their notes melodiously,
To greet the opening day.'
Rise, let me take a last farewell
Of one I love so dear;
Let kindred spirits share the bliss
Of sympathy's warm tear.'
Oft has my aching head reclined
Upon thy throbbing breast,
When weary nature sought repose
By wrongs and grief oppressed;
Through summer's heat and winter's cold,
In sickness and in pain;
When tyranny and bondage vile,
With all their horrid train;
When the despot and oppressor
Drew firmer round my heart,
The fierce ligaments of frenzy,
And vengeance reckless smart.
When the gathering scowl of passion
Raged in my maddened breast,
Thy soft benignant converse
Still hushed the storm to rest.
And when the white-man's heavy task,
Beneath a burning sun,'
With cutting whip and lash enforced,
These weary hands have done,
I've hastened home unto this cot,
To share alone with thee
The only balm the slave enjoys,
Or ever known by me:
The fond embrace; the welcome smile.
Of youth's espoused wife;
The prattling of these little babes,
The solace of my life.
Ah! will the tyrant tear me hence,
Where joy and pleasure reigns,
To worry out a wretched life
On Alabama's plains?
Yes, sordid avarice steels his heart
To pity's moving tear;
To southern climes I lingering go,
And leave thee weeping here.
Great God, how long must Afric's sons
This cruel bondage bear?
How long will traders from his wife,
The wretched husband tear?
How long will monsters have the power
Inhumanly to wrest
The frantic mother from the child.
Still clinging to her breast?
As sure as yonder sun will rise,
Or leaves adorn the trees,
As sure as gushing fountains roll
Their waters to the seas;
So sure will slavery's hateful chain
Be seen on earth no more;
But universal justice reign—
Where bondage ruled before.

W. B.