730 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1810. 



Felt the quick pang of keen compunction dart, 

 And heard a small still whisper in his heart, 

 A voice from heaven, that bade the outcast rise 

 From shame on earth to glory in the skies. 



From isle to isle the welcome tidings ran ; 

 The slave that heard them started into man : 

 Like Peter sleeping in his chains, he lay, 

 The angel came, his night was turned to-day ; 

 " Ar'se !" his fetters fall, his slumbers flee ; 

 He wakes to life, he springs to liberty. 



No more to Demon-gods, in hideous forms. 

 He pray'd for earthquakes, pestilence, and storms. 

 In secret agony devour'd the earth, 

 And, while he spared his mother, cursed his birth: 

 To heaven the Christian negro sent his sighs. 

 In morning vows and evening sacrifice ; 

 He pray'd for blessings to descend on those 

 That dealt to liim the cup of many woes ; 

 Thought of his home in Africa forlorn ; 

 Yet, while he wept, rejoic'd that he was born. 

 No longer burning with unholy fires, 

 He wallow'd in the dust of base desires; 

 Enobling virtue fix'd his hopes above, 

 Enlarged his heart, and sanctified his love : 

 With humble steps the paths of peace he trod, 

 A happy pilgrim, for he walk'd with God. 



THE HARP OF SORROW. 



[_Fr07n Montgomery's Puems.2 



I GAVE my Harp to Sorrow's hand. 

 And she has ruled the chords so long, 



They will not speak at ray command ; 

 They warble only to her song. 



Of dear, departed hours. 



Too fondly loved to last. 

 The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, 



Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — 



Of long, long years of future care. 



Till lingering Nature yields her breath, 



And endless ages of despair, 



Beyond tlie judgracnt-day of death : 



