Anti Slavery Poems I, vol 3, part 1

Book ExcerptThe horn winds through their caverned hill. And one was weeping in his sight, The sweetest flower of all the isle, The bride who seemed but yesternightLove's fair embodied smile. And, clinging to her trembling knee, Looked up the form of infancy, With tearful glance in either faceThe secret of its fear to trace."Ha! stand or die!" The white man's eyeHis steady musket gleamed along, As a tall Negro hastened nigh, With fearless step and strong."What, ho, Toussaint!" A moment more, His shadow crossed the lighted floor."Away!" he shouted; "fly with me, The white man's bark is on the sea; Her sails must catch the seaward wind, For sudden vengeance sweeps behind. Our brethren from their graves have spoken, The yoke is spurned, the chain is broken; On all the bills our fires are glowing, Through all the vales red blood is flowingNo more the mocking White shall restHis foot upon the Negro's br