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SARAH WENTWORTH MORTON.

ABOUT fifty years ago, when authoresses were not so numerous as they now are, this lady was ranked among the first American female writers. She published her verses under the name of Philenia, and, during the early part of her life, wrote very industriously. In 1823, she sent forth her only volume, called My mind and its Thoughts, a collection of articles in prose and verse. Mrs. Morton was born in Boston. Her husband was the Hon. Percy Morton, Attorney General of Massachusetts.

THE AFRICAN CHIEF.

See how the black ship cleaves the main,
  High bounding o'er the dark blue wave,
Remurmuring with the groans of pain,
  Deep freighted with the princely slave.

Did all the gods of Afric sleep,
  Forgetful of their guardian love,
When the white tyrants of the deep,
  Betray'd him in the palmy grove?

A chief of Gambia's golden shore,
  Whose arm the band of warriors led;
Or more--the lord of generous power,
  By whom the foodless poor were fed.

Does not the voice of reason cry,
  "Claim the first right that nature gave,
From the red scourge of bondage fly,
  Nor deign to live a burden'd slave?"

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SARAH WENTWORTH MORTON. 49

Has not his suffering offspring clung,
  Desponding, round his fetter'd knee;
On his worn shoulder, weeping hung,
  And urged one effort to be free?

His wife by nameless wrongs subdued,
  His bosom's friend to death resign'd;
The flinty path-way drench'd in blood;
  He saw with cold and frenzied mind.

Strong in despair, he sought the plain,
  To heaven was raised his steadfast eye,
Resolved to burst the crushing chain,
  Or 'mid the battle's blast, to die.

First of his race, he led the band,
  Guardless of danger, hurtling round,
Till by his red avenging hand,
  Full many a despot stained the ground.

When erst Messenia's sons oppress'd,
  Flew desperate to the sanguine field,
With iron clothed each injured breast,
  And saw the cruel Spartan yield,

Did not the soul to heaven allied,
  With the proud heart as greatly swell,
As when the Roman Decius died,
  Or when the Grecian victim fell?

Do later deeds quick rapture raise,
  The boon Batavia's William won,
Paoli's time-enduring praise,
  Or the yet greater Washington?

If these exalt thy sacred zeal,
  To hate oppression's mad control,
For bleeding Afric learn to feel,
  Whose chieftain claimed a kindred soul.

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Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 15:34:55 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 18:20:55