This poem was written by John Greenleaf Whittier
“ALL ready?” cried the captain; | |
“Ay, ay!” the seamen said; | |
“Heave up the worthless lubbers,— | |
The dying and the dead.” | |
Up from the slave-ship’s prison | 5 |
Fierce, bearded heads were thrust: | |
“Now let the sharks look to it,— | |
Toss up the dead ones first!” | |
Corpse after corpse came up,— | |
Death had been busy there; | 10 |
Where every blow is mercy, | |
Why should the spoiler spare? | |
Corpse after corpse they cast | |
Sullenly from the ship, | |
Yet bloody with the traces | 15 |
Of fetter-link and whip. | |
Gloomily stood the captain, | |
With his arms upon his breast, | |
With his cold brow sternly knotted, | |
And his iron lip compressed. | 20 |
“Are all the dead dogs over?” | |
Growled through that matted lip; | |
“The blind ones are no better, | |
Let ’s lighten the good ship.” | |
Hark! from the ship’s dark bosom, | 25 |
The very sounds of hell! | |
The ringing clank of iron, | |
The maniac’s short, sharp yell! | |
The hoarse, low curse, throat-stifled; | |
The starving infant’s moan, | 30 |
The horror of a breaking heart | |
Poured through a mother’s groan. | |
Up from that loathsome prison | |
The stricken blind ones came: | |
Below, had all been darkness, | 35 |
Above, was still the same. | |
Yet the holy breath of heaven | |
Was sweetly breathing there, | |
And the heated brow of fever | |
Cooled in the soft sea air. | 40 |
“Overboard with them, shipmates!” | |
Cutlass and dirk were plied; | |
Fettered and blind, one after one, | |
Plunged down the vessel’s side. | |
The sabre smote above, | 45 |
Beneath, the lean shark lay, | |
Waiting with wide and bloody jaw | |
His quick and human prey. | |
God of the earth! what cries | |
Rang upward unto thee? | 50 |
Voices of agony and blood, | |
From ship-deck and from sea. | |
The last dull plunge was heard, | |
The last wave caught its stain, | |
And the unsated shark looked up | 55 |
For human hearts in vain.
* * * * *
| |
Red glowed the western waters, | |
The setting sun was there, | |
Scattering alike on wave and cloud | |
His fiery mesh of hair. | 60 |
Amidst a group in blindness, | |
A solitary eye | |
Gazed, from the burdened slaver’s deck, | |
Into that burning sky. | |
“A storm,” spoke out the gazer, | 65 |
“Is gathering and at hand; | |
Curse on ’t, I ’d give my other eye | |
For one firm rood of land.” | |
And then he laughed, but only | |
His echoed laugh replied, | 70 |
For the blinded and the suffering | |
Alone were at his side. | |
Night settled on the waters, | |
And on a stormy heaven, | |
While fiercely on that lone ship’s track | 75 |
The thunder-gust was driven. | |
“A sail!—thank God, a sail!” | |
And as the helmsman spoke, | |
Up through the stormy murmur | |
A shout of gladness broke. | 80 |
Down came the stranger vessel, | |
Unheeding on her way, | |
So near that on the slaver’s deck | |
Fell off her driven spray. | |
“Ho! for the love of mercy, | 85 |
We ’re perishing and blind!” | |
A wail of utter agony | |
Came back upon the wind: | |
“Help us! for we are stricken | |
With blindness every one; | 90 |
Ten days we ’ve floated fearfully, | |
Unnoting star or sun. | |
Our ship ’s the slaver Leon,— | |
We ’ve but a score on board; | |
Our slaves are all gone over,— | 95 |
Help, for the love of God!” | |
On livid brows of agony | |
The broad red lightning shone; | |
But the roar of wind and thunder | |
Stifled the answering groan; | 100 |
Wailed from the broken waters | |
A last despairing cry, | |
As, kindling in the stormy light, | |
The stranger ship went by.
* * * * *
| |
In the sunny Guadaloupe | 105 |
A dark-hulled vessel lay, | |
With a crew who noted never | |
The nightfall or the day. | |
The blossom of the orange | |
Was white by every stream, | 110 |
And tropic leaf, and flower, and bird | |
Were in the warm sunbeam. | |
And the sky was bright as ever, | |
And the moonlight slept as well, | |
On the palm-trees by the hillside, | 115 |
And the streamlet of the dell: | |
And the glances of the Creole | |
Were still as archly deep, | |
And her smiles as full as ever | |
Of passion and of sleep. | 120 |
But vain were bird and blossom, | |
The green earth and the sky, | |
And the smile of human faces, | |
To the slaver’s darkened eye; | |
At the breaking of the morning, | 125 |
At the star-lit evening time, | |
O’er a world of light and beauty | |
Fell the blackness of his crime. |
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