To The Genius Of Africa

O thou who from the mountain's height         Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight     Of waters to old Niles majestic tide;         Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain     Recallest thy Palmyra's ancient pride,         Amid whose desolated domes         Secure the savage chacal roams,     Where from the fragments of the hallow'd fane     The Arabs rear their miserable homes!     Hear Genius hear thy children's cry!         Not always should'st thou love to brood         Stern o'er the desert solitude     Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high;         Nor Genius should the midnight song     Detain thee in some milder mood         The palmy plains among     Where Gambia to the torches light     Flows radiant thro' the awaken'd night.     Ah, linger not to hear the song!     Genius avenge thy children's wrong!     The Daemon COMMERCE on your shore         Pours all the horrors of his train,     And hark! where from the field of gore         Howls the hyena o'er the slain!     Lo! where the flaming village fires the skies!     Avenging Power awake--arise!     Arise thy children's wrong redress!     Ah heed the mother's wretchedness     When in the hot infectious air         O'er her sick babe she bows opprest--     Ah hear her when the Christians tear         The drooping infant from her breast!         Whelm'd in the waters he shall rest!     Hear thou the wretched mother's cries,     Avenging Power awake! arise!         By the rank infected air         That taints those dungeons of despair,         By those who there imprison'd die         Where the black herd promiscuous lie,         By the scourges blacken'd o'er         And stiff and hard with human gore,         By every groan of deep distress         By every curse of wretchedness,         By all the train of Crimes that flow         From the hopelessness of Woe,         By every drop of blood bespilt,         By Afric's wrongs and Europe's guilt,         Awake! arise! avenge!     And thou hast heard! and o'er their blood-fed plains     Swept thine avenging hurricanes;     And bade thy storms with whirlwind roar     Dash their proud navies on the shore;     And where their armies claim'd the fight     Wither'd the warrior's might;     And o'er the unholy host with baneful breath     There Genius thou hast breath'd the gales of Death.     So perish still the robbers of mankind!     What tho' from Justice bound and blind     Inhuman Power has snatch'd the sword!         What tho' thro' many an ignominious age         That Fiend with desolating rage     The tide of carnage pour'd!     Justice shall yet unclose her eyes,     Terrific yet in wrath arise,     And trample on the tyrant's breast,     And make Oppresion groan opprest.