3
His wretched parents long ſhall mourn,
Shall long explore the diſtant main,
In hopes to ſee the youth return,
But all their hopes and ſighs are vain!
They never ſhell the fight enjoy
Of their lamented Negro Boy!
Beneath a tyrant's harſh command
He wears away his youthful prime!
Far diſtant from his native land,
A ſtranger in a foreign clime!
No pleaſing thoughts his mind employ,
A poor dejected Negro Boy!
But He who walks upon the wind !
Whoſe voice in thunders heard on high!
Who doth the raging tempeſt bind!
Or wing the lightning thro' the ſky !
In his own time wid ſure destroy
The oppreſſors of a Negro Boy!
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THE WISH
WHEN the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be ſeen,
and the meadow their beauty have loſt;
When nature's diſrob'd of her mantle of green
and the ſtreams are faſt bound with the froſt:
