THE American in Algiers, OR THE PATRIOT OF SEVENTY-SIX IN CAPTIVITY

Now gentle reader, think thy task not hard Awhile to listen to a sable bard, Whose pen undaunted thus shall dare address A world of critics, and her thoughts express, Th' envenom'd source of every ill to trace, That preys incessant on his hapless race; And trump the inconsistency of those Feign'd friends to liberty, feign'd slavery's foes; From that piratic coast where slavery reigns, And freedom's champions wear despotic chains; Turn to Columbia—cross the western waves, And view her wide spread empire throng'd with slaves Whose wrongs unmerited, shall blast with shame Her boasted rights, and prove them but a name.

To call forth all the vices of the cane, Confusion's sire, and friendship's mortal bane; To introduce luxurious rules of art, To sink the genius and enslave the heart, To make mankind in vicious habits bold, By bart'ring virtue for the love of gold. For these, old Europe's fleets first cross'd the flood, And bath'd the coast of Africa in blood; Far these, her sons have rob'd the world of peace, And sluie'd the veins of half the human race; For these, Hispania's pious children hurl'd Death and destruction round the western world; For these, Britannia loos'd the dogs of war, And pour'd her vengeance from Belona's carr; For these, French, Dutch, and Portuguese, and Danes, Have slaughter'd millions on Columbia's plains; And with our sable sons the place supply'd Of tribes less suited to sustain their pride.

Such are the boasted virtues that possess These pious scourgers of the human race; Their title such, to fair unsullied fame, Which zones and climes, and distant realms proclaim; Such are the murders—such the deeds of blood, Vile Christians perpetrate to serve their God; Who ne'er taught men his brother to enslave, But dy'd, they boast, all human kind to save. A God of wisdom, justice, mercy, peace! Whose word (constru'd by potentees of grace) Breathes death and vengeance to the human race.

I pause to freedom's sons—my lays belong, And hence to them I consecrate my song: Rulers and rul'd in turn, shall share my rhyme, Well made, and suited to Columbia's clime.

Ye rev'rend Sages! who first fram'd the plan, And rear'd the fabric of the rights of man, To you I speak, in truth's undaunted tone, And plead the cause of Afric's injur'd sons. Say then, ye Sires! who, by a just decree, O'erturn'd a throne, and made a nation free; Does not that Sacred Instrument contain The Laws of Nature, and the Rights of Man? If so—from whence did you the right obtain To bind our Africans in slav'ry's chain? To scourge the back, or wound the bleeding heart, By all the base tyrannic rules of art? Nature ne'er gave it.—Read that first of laws, The Manifesto of Columbia's cause; 'Tis your own act, on which you found your claim Thro' endless ages to unrival'd fame; Whose well form'd sentences thus spread abroad The Rights of Nature, and the Gift of God:

Recall the feelings of each Patriot mind, When first this mighty Instrument was sign'd, Hear the loud echoes rend the distant sky, And death, or freedom, was the general cry.

What then, and are all men created free, And Afric's sons continue slaves to be, And shall that hue our native climates gave, Our birthright forfeit, and ourselves enslave? Are we not made like you of flesh and blood, Like you some wife, some fools, some bad, some good? In short, are we not men? and if we be, By your own declaration we are free; Forbear then sires to boast your glorious deed, While yet humanity in torrents bleed, Turn to your kitchens recognize your shame, And cease to stun our ears with freedom's name: The Spaniards say, that he's a silly dunce, Whose house is glass, yet 'gins at throwing stones; So he who lords it o'er his fellow man, Should ne'er of wrongs or tyranny complain.

Great son of Mars, with deathless honor crown'd, Mount Vernon's pride o'er earth and seas renown'd, Freedom's first born, who stem'd the hostile flood, And march'd to liberty through fields of blood; Oh how my bowels yearn to see the brave, The worthy WASHINGTON possess a slave; If you whose sword still reeks with despots blood, Have drench'd your fields with Afric's purple flood; Sure some malicious fiend to blot your fame, Has sanction'd usurpation with your name; Look o'er your fields, and see them black with slaves, Where freedom's flag in boasted triumph waves, Nor let your soul despotic laws despise, Since as despotic ones yourself devise, And now convert to slavery's galling chain, That sword you drew to aid the rights of man: Such mighty chieftain is thy portrait drawn, By one who knows not basely how to fawn.

I now address a much respected band, And bid my lays to ev'ry heart expand; You who have triumph'd in the field of mars, And led whole squadrons to the din of wars: And you brave patriots who in private ranks, Laid claims well founded to your country's thanks; Who now the last, o'er trembling slaves extend, And insult daily with oppression blend; Kings of your kitchens, say tyrannic lords, What impulse prompted to unsheath your swords, 'Midst toils and dangers eight long years to wield, Each murd'rous weapon in th' embattled field; If love of liberty impell'd the fight, Why now deprive another of his right? That very right for which you shed your blood, And solemnly appeal'd to nature's God; Where are the rights you once so fondly taught? Or where the liberty for which you fought? You say all men were first created free, Whence then the right t'usurp their liberty? Hath not the African as good a right, Deriv'd from nature to enslave the white? As whites to say the hue our climate gave, Our rights shall forfeit and ourselves enslave? Do we not see where'er we turn our view, Throughout all nature's children different hues? And do white hogs the unjust priv'lege claim, To make the black ones root the ground for them? Did e'er the whites among the feather'd brood, Compel the blacks for them to gather food? Think what an inconsistency 't would be, Such usurpation in the brutes to see: As inconsistent are the steps you trace, You conquer'd tyrants to supply their place.

Thus freedom's sons, who once a despot spurn'd, Now plac'd in pow'r have equal despots turn'd, Rul'd by the Deamon of inconstancy, They fought for freedom, yet enslave the free; If in past ages steps you're now to tread, In vain your vaunted heroes fought and bled; In vain Montgomery, Warren, Mercer fell; In vain the World their wond'rous actions tell; Because your fathers stole their neighbor's good, Must you pursue the crooked paths they trod? If rogues obtain our property by stealth, Should that debar the owner from his wealth? Your laws are strict—and woe to he or she Who dares infringe the right of property! 'Tis a vast crime to steal man's worthless pelf, But virtue rare to steal the man himself. Such is your system which all good men curse, The Theory is bad, the practice worse.

And now all you whose stomachs gorge in food Obtain'd by tyranny, and steep'd in blood, Who boast of liberty and equal laws, And croud your fields with slaves to damn your cause, In undivided mass, Slave-holders, all, Jointly, and severally, to you I call, And crave attention, while the bard recites, The usurpation of his country's rights; Daring each artful sophist to confute The stubborn truths hit pen shall thunder out.

On yon wide plains, toward the rising sun, (Lords of creation and the world their own) Free as wild nature's self with guiltless souls, Near where the Gambia's mighty current rolls, My ancestors from immemorial time Had liv'd contented in old Afric's clime; Here on the summit of a verdant hill, That smil'd beneath his tender care and skill, Facing rude Neptune's realm of azure hue, Where skies join seas to circumscribe the view, My father liv'd—of all mankind the friend, Whose constant care was virtue to defend, And sweet relief to ev'ry want extend. Of wealth possess'd, and to the needy free, His heart ne'er knew ungenerosity. Beneath this tender parent's fost'ring care, My father's joy, my mother's only dear, In youth's gay hours, I spent a joyous life, Free from contention, 'care, or feudal strife; Nurs'd in the lap of luxury and ease, Nocturnal plealsures follow'd days of peace, And life was one continued scene of bliss; An only sister, virtuous, kind, and fair, Partook my joys and all my pleasures shar'd. To crown which pleasing scenes, love lent his aid, And me a captive to fair Zephra made; A lovely orphan by my father rear'd Who with my sister half his favors shar'd: Whose rare perfections ev'ry pen defy, Nor can description half her worth convey; (Nor here let scorn attempt the point to prove That blacks ne'er feel the soft impulse of love; If actions speak the feelings of the mind, Whites have the bluntest of the human kind.) This heav'nly maid on me bestow'd her heart, And pleas'd me well, altho' I felt the smart; In courtship's hours on Gambia's verdant banks, Oft' have we sat and play'd our artless pranks, 'Till that wish'd mark arriv'd to make her mine, And me the happiest of the human kind. The guests attend, the rev'rend priest appears, The vet'ran cook the costly feast prepares; All things in readiness, upright we stand, And strait are link'd in wedlock's holy band; Eager, anon, we to the banquet hie, And all was mirth, festivity and joy, Swift flew the glasses fill'd with cheering wine, And ev'ry guest seem'd anx'ous to entwine Venus' myrtle with old Bachus' vine.

But oh! what mis'ries tread on heels of joy! How soon dark clouds oft' veil the beautious sky! Roses with thorns are twin'd by native art, And he who plucks them must expect the smart. Sudden o'er distant waves appears a fail, Whose canvas wings arrest the western gale, Borne on by which, she nears our peaceful shore, (Which ne'er beheld a hostile ship before,) And here secure from ev'ry danger, moor; Swift to the shore a band of ruffians came And wrap'd our peaceful mansion in a flame, While unarm'd warriors met the desp'rate clan, And fought impetuous for the rights of man, But skill or bravery here could nought avail 'Gainst foes well arm'd, who ev'ry side assail; Friends, children, lovers, age nor sex they spare, But wife from husband, child from parent tear. Fast lock'd in captive bands, the hapless few Now bade to blythe festivity, adieu; With burning rage I saw my lovely bride, By ruffian hands, insulted, sciz'd, and ty'd; Rage nought avail'd—myself, and all my friends Meantime were fetter'd by their impious hands; In haste the monsters now their pris'ners strip, And with a lash more keen than phaeton's whip, Drive them unfeelingly toward the ship.

My much lov'd sister and my new made bride, Scourg'd by the hands of insolence and pride; Fainting beneath the deep afflicting wound, Victims to grief, fell senseless on the ground; But soon reviv'd to feel the lash again, And recognize in tears their galling chain; Welt'ring in blood and petrify'd with fear, On board the ship at length we all appear.

A faint description of which floating hell, Aid me, ye heav'nly muses, to reveal. Here groans of anguish, screams, and dismal cries, Forth from the deep and noxious hole arise; Lashes, and oaths, and threats, and clanking chains, Form the hoarse music of those curs'd domains; Hundreds of human beings here confin'd, In liquid torrents melt away their mind; While savage seamen with ferocious pride, Damn, huff, and beat, the slaves on ev'ry side; For eight long weeks amidst this doleful scene, I liv'd confin'd upon the boist'rous main; Parching with thirst, and threat'ned with starvation; Nor in that time beheld the fair I prize, Though oft' I heard her agonizing cries.

At length in sight Columbia's shores appear, Where Baltimore her lofty turrets rear, And Albion's flag in haughty triumph wav'd, The proud insignia of a world enslav'd. Now money'd crouds advance with eager pace To cull this cargo of the human race; With caution great, and scrutinizing eyes, Each jockey views the slaves before he buys; Tears from one family a tender mother, A father, wife, or sisster from another; My father, mother, sister, self, and wife, To diff'rent ones were sold, and sold for life.

One short embrace we crave, this they refuse— The drivers lash precludes all interviews; By vi'lence parted, each reluctant mov'd With tardy steps from objects so belov'd. Since which, the earth has round yon central sun Full five and twenty times her orbit run; Yet where those friends, to me than life more dear, Drag out their wretched days, I ne'er could hear.

Suffice to say, 'gainst me all ills combin'd, Enerv'd my body, and unhing'd my mind; The galling whip unceasing greets my ears, Wielded by savage brutes and overseers; Its constant echo rends my bleeding heart, Alike men, women, children, feel its smart. To heat, to cold, and nakedness I yield, And brave half starv'd the labours of the field; When languishing with sickness no kind friend With soothing hand his gen'rous service lend: In leaky hutt, all comfortless I lie, Left there alone in solitude to die.

Eternal God! and is this freedom's land, Where whip is law, and mis'ries wings expand? Are these the men who spurn'd despotic pow'r? And drench'd their swords in haughty Albion's gore? Freedom, avaunt! your sweets I'll never crave, If this is Liberty, oh! let me be a slave.

I'm now worn out with servitude and woe, And patient wait for death to strike the blow That ends each care, each suffering and dread, Lets drop the curtain of oblivion's shade, And sends me headlong to the silent dead. Yet apprehensions haunt my wretched mind, To think I leave so many friends behind.

And now base tyrants, who no mercy shew, I crave no sympathetic tears from you; Callous to every feeling of the heart, Language must fail, your baseness to impart. But you, whose breasts with warm affections glow, Whose ears are open to the tale of woe, Whose softer bosoms feel paternal care, Fraternal love or silial duty share; And you whose hearts, a tender passion warms, Who know the pow'r of love's ten thousand charms. To hearts like yours, which soft impressions feel, Of Afric's race, I make the just appeal; And leave the portrait which my pen has drawn, A short, concise, and comprehensive one.

HAPLESS descendant of old Afric's race, Check the big tear that damps thy aged face; See o'er the south, the Gaulic flag unfurl'd, Proclaiming peace and freedom to the world: That splendid sun that gilds the Indian isles, On tyrants frown, but on your brethren smiles; Anon Columbia'll rouse, from prej'dice freed, To share the glories of that godlike deed; E'er long (to set no more) shall Freedom rise, Emancipate the world, and glad the skies.