A feeble slave I grew
Among a slavish crew.
In place of jewels, chains
Rang at my sister’s side;
Whene’er I looked around,
With shame and grief, I found,
Bowed to the dust of plains,
My race in slavery’s hide.
I grew resigned to fate,
To the iron’s song of hate,
That drove from out my reach
The very joy of life;
And when, with feeling wrought,
Solace in music I sought,
My song was but the screech
Of the grinding chains of strife.
****
We’re only slaves . . . Toys of a strange desire,
Unpunished are the fists that strike our breast,
What we possess, stills other men’s desire,
At others mercy must our honor rest.
We’re only cattle, whipped beneath the yoke
From morn ’till night, for other peoples’ gain.
Slaves’ Chorus:
We’re without will or law, doomed to invoke
Justice in vain . . .
The master says: “Labor in sweat and heat,
Gather abundant crops from off my lands,
That I may better thus my fancies meet
And generously fill my lovers’ hands;
That I may get for you more toughened rope,
And newer whips and heavier clanging chains.”
Slaves’ Chorus:
Laughter of scorn cuts through our souls and hope,
Slaves we remain . . .
Nothing is ours; another rules with all;
Our sweat for him bedews our fathers’ soil;
We have no will beside his beck and call,
Our law is but our master’s will and toil.
Lies are the truth against us, wrongs are right,
The heavens too, are helpless in this reign.
Slaves’ Chorus:
We are a lawless mob, a herd without might,
Slaves we’ll remain . . .
101
