THE SON OF ALKNOMO OK, OR THE INDIAN DEATH-SONG. I. HE fun fets in night, and the stars fhun the day, THE But glory remains, when their lights fade away: Begin ye tormentors; your threats are in vain : For the fon of Alknomook fhall never complain. II. Remember the arrows, he fhot from his bow, Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low; Why fo flow? do you wait, till I fhrink from the pain? No, the fon of Alknomook fhall never complain. III. Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay, And the fcalps, that we bore from your nation away; Now the flame rifes faft; you exult in my pain; But the fon of Alknomook can never complain. Fingite nunc animis, quæ fpicula mifit ab arcu, Fingite, ductores quos afcia morte fubegit, Quid ftatis? non me poterunt terrere dolores; Non; fatus Alknomook nunquam dabit ore querelas. III. Fingite, queîs nemorum latebris infedimus altis, Quot capitum veftrî ferrum fpoliavit honores: At fatus Alknomook nullas dabit ore querelas. IV. I go to the land, where my father is gone, His ghoft fhall rejoice in the fame of his fon; Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain: And thy fon, O Alknomook, has scorn'd to complain. THE DEATH OF ALICO, AN AFRICAN SLAVE, CONDEMNED FOR REBELLION, IN JAMAICA, 1762, BY BRYANT EDWARDS, ESQ. OF JAMAICA. I. 'TIS paft !--ah ! calm thy cares to rest ! Firm and unmov'd am I ; *He addreffes his wife at the place of execution. For IV. Quæ tenet arva parens, eadem mox arva tenebo; Illius et manes mulcebit gloria prolis : Mors, ut amica, venit, cruciatûs vincula folvit : Et fatus Alknomook nunquam dedit ore querelas. ALIC 0, MANCIPIUM EX AFRICA IN JAMAICAM ABDUCTUM, ET NUNC MORTI DAMNATUM, UXOREM ALLOQUITUR. A I. CTUM eft. O difcas tandèm lenire dolores! Ecce mihi nullis mens fubigenda malis ! Libertatis amans petii per mille pericla, Libertatis amans mortis iniqua fero. II. Heu! cohibe, tales fodiunt mea pectora queftus; Quas domui, curas vox tua mæfta ciet: Nam For I have lov'd thee very long, And lov'd thee very well. III. To native skies and peaceful bow'rs, I foon fhall wing my way; Where joy fhall lead the circling hours, Unless too long thy ftay. IV. O fpeed, fair Sun! thy courfe divine; My Abala remove; There thy bright beams fhall ever shine, And I for ever love: V. On those bleft fhores, a flave no more! In peaceful eafe I'll ftray; Or roufe to chace the mountain boar, As unconfin'd as day. |