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THE SON

OF ALKNOMO OK,

OR THE

INDIAN DEATH-SONG.

I.

THE

"HE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,

But glory remains, when their lights fade away :

Begin ye tormentors; your threats are in vain :

For the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

II.

Remember the arrows, he shot from his bow,

Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low;

Why so flow? do you wait, till I shrink from the pain?

No, the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

III.

Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps, that we bore from your nation away;
Now the flame rises fast; you exult in my pain ;

But the fon of Alknomook can never complain.

BELLATORIS INDICI

MORIENTIS CARMEN.

I.

OCTE cadit Phæbus, fugiunt et fidera lucem,

NOCTE

Fama tamen fulget, cum cæli lumina pallent: Surgite, tortores ; non verba minacia curo :

Nam fatus Alknomook nunquam dabit ore querclas.

II.

Fingite nunc animis, quæ fpicula misit ab arcu,

Fingite, ductores quos ascia morte subegit,

Quid statis? non me poterunt terrere dolores ;
Non ; fatus Alknomook nunquam dabit ore querelas.

III.

Fingite, queîs nemorum latebris insedimus altis,

Quot capitum veftri fcrrum fpoliavit honores :

Flamma furit ; vobis liceat gaudere dolore :

At satus Alknomook nullas dabit ore querelas.

IV.

I go to the land, where my father is gone,

His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son;
Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain :
And thy son, 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 reft!

Firm and unmoy'd am I;

In freedom's caufe I bar'd my breast,

In freedom's cause I die.

II.

Ah! stop, thou doft me fatal wrong,

Nature will yet rebel ;

For IV.

* He addresses his wife at the place of execution,

Quæ tenet arva parens, eadem mox arva tenebo;

Illius et manes mulcebit gloria prolis :

Mors, ut amica, venit, cruciatûs vincula folvit :

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Heu! cohibe, tales fodiunt mea pectora questus ;

Quas domui, curas vox tua mæsta 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 soon shall wing my way;

Where joy shall lead the circling hours,

Unless too long thy stay.

IV.

O speed, fair Sun! thy course divine ;

My Abala remove;

There thy bright beams shall ever shine,

And I for ever love :

V.

On those blest shores, a Nave no more!

In peaceful ease I'll ftray;

Or rouse to chace the mountain boar,

As unconfin'd as day.

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