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Till he had reach'd the town and warrior bands :
The heroes gaze, the panting youth appears,
And tells the melancholy tale with tears;
"Sad tidings friends and fathers you must hear,
And I alas must be the messenger;

The bloody Christians have appeared in fight,
And robb'd your children of their natal right:
Lo! all your sons are welt'ring in their gore,
Your ravish'd daughters to the ships they bore,
And I alone oppress'd with mighty woe,
Have scarce escaped from the ambush'd foe."
Wrapt in a cloud of grief he strove to say
The narrative, but sighs stopt up the way;
The hoary heroes heard with silent woe,
And while they heard the tears began to flow.
So when the woodman's toil her cave surrounds,
And with the hunter's cry the grove resounds,
With grief and rage the mother iion stung,
Fearless herself yet trembles for her young.

Lo, instantly th' alarm the warrior train,
And in a moment scour the distant plain,
Rang'd in promiscuous lines the warriors stand,
Start from the town and vanish o'er the strand;
Swift as on wings they flew, or seem'd to fly,
And drifts of dust involve the golden sky:
Thus from his flaggy wings, when Notus sheds
A night of vapours round the mountain heads,
Swift gliding mists the dusky fields invade

To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade,
While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey,
Lost and confus'd amidst the thicken'd day :
So wrapt in gathering dust the sable train,
A moving cloud swept on and hid the plain.
They stop and listen, and they hear from far

Dire shrieks, they fly again to meet the war.

Lo now the chieftains reach the silver flood,
Heap'd with the slain and red with human blood!
The hapless slain, the cruel ruffians tore
Who lay all languid horrible in gore;

Thus o'er th' unguarded fence by hunger bold
Springs the grim tyger and invades the fold,
All dreadful growling in the midnight hours,
The helpless flock he murders and devours ;
While wrapt in silence lies the fleecy brood,
The savage rages in a foam of blood.
The sable heroes view th' unequal fight,
And mangled youths, but sicken at the sight,
They view their gasping sons extended die,
While tears of rage stand trembling in each eye;
No more they weep but to the battle turn,
Breathing revenge....all for the combat burn;
So two wild boars spring furious from their den,
Rous'd by the cries of dogs and voice of men,
On every side the crackling trees they tear,
And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare;
They gnash their tusks, with fire their eye-balls roll,
Till some wide wound let out their mighty soul;
Th' intrepid prince his myrmidons inspires,
The brave LOUVERTURE by example fires.

Amidst his host the royal hero stood,
And sent his voice before him as a flood;

And fir'd with fury to the fight he flies,

Keen flash the flames, and lighten from his eyes ;
So the fierce bull collected in his might,
Roars for his rival and demands the fight,
Impatient for the war with fury burns,
And tries on every tree his angry horns;

Bends his stern brows and pushes at the air,

And paws the flying sands, the prelude of the war、
Fearless of death he views the Christian bands,
Pants for the battle and the war demands;
The shrieks of maidens and the shouting foe
Swell his bold heart, and only make it glow;
Amid his bands majestically tall

He stood, and standing, far outshin'd them all :
A filial hero, pious, fond and good,

A friend to man, a servant of his God,
His person amiable, his mind serene,
His strength heroic, and august his frame;
His hands were ever open, and his door,
To help the helpless and relieve the poor.

Then with a voice which anguish made more strong,
He thus harrangues and animates his throng :

Fellows in arms whose deeds are known to fame,
And you whose ardor hopes an equal fame,
Since not alike endow'd with force and art,
Behold a day when each may act his part;
A day to fire the brave to warm the cold,
To gain new glories or augment the old ;
For lo, depending on this dreadful day

The fate of babes, sires, wives and daughters lay;
We face the foes of our extended reign,

Where crystal streams enrich the Afric plain,
Lo, see them come from each bright wooden wall,
This day we'll conquer or this day we'll fall;
Let each reflect who prizes fame or breath,
On endless slav'ry, or on instant death;
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claim no less the fearful than the brave,
For lust of fame I should not vainly dare
In fighting fields, nor urge your souls to war;
But since alas, ignoble age must come,

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Disease and death's inexorable doom;
The life which others pay let us bestow,
And give to fame what we to nature owe;
Brave though we fall, and honor'd if we live,
Or let us glory gain, or glory give :
Think on your dear dear children basely slain
And mangled by the cruel Christian train;
Your ancient valor on the foes approve,
Jove is with us and we will trust in Jove,
'Tis not for us but our proud foes to dread,
Whose crimes sit heavy on each perjur'd head,
Who hope our sons and dames to lead in chains,
And with our warriors strew the mournful plains,
"And Oh," he cries, "Thou Ruler of the sky
Give me to make yon cruel Christians fly,
And o'er my eyes triumphant wisdom spread
While dawning conquest plays around my head,
Thou, only Thou, can bless my bold design,
Protect my sire and make the conquest mine;
O Jove on thee alone I now depend,

As thou hast been, still ever be my friend."
Then on his spear the hero cast a look,
The beaming jav'lin, and with ardor spoke ;
"My trusty lance still faithful to my hand,
Still wing'd with death to answer my command,
Which once brave ZANGA's arm was wont to wield,
And mine now throws, the terror of the field;
In this great moment fly nor fly in vain,
But stretch yon haughty tyrants on the plain;
Oh give me through their hearts thy point to thrust,
And soil their scented garments in the dust."
He spoke, and speaking grasps in either hand,
His sword and lance and speeds from band to band;
The Christians resolute their onset dare,

Condense their powers and meets the coming war; LOUVERTURE leads, all fix on him their eye, Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die.

Ye sacred nine, assist me to proclaim

Who fac'd him first and press'd the purple plain :
Proud HODGE with insolence and void of fear,
First met his lance and felt his thirsty spear,
Prone in the dust the panting tyrant lay,
While brave LOUVERTURE lopp'd his head away;
Still slaught❜ring on, the valiant prince proceeds,
Both friends and foes all wonder at his deeds;
The fight begun, promiscuous shouts arise,
And dreadful clangor thicken in the skies;
DUNDAS, an officer of ancient fame,
Oppos'd his might and press'd the bloody plain,
In his proud front he felt the fatal wound,
Sudden he fell, and falling bit the ground;
There slain he left him in the shades of night,
Then pres'd amidst the thickest ranks of fight;
A proud imperious ruffian dead to fame,

Cross'd in his way, and PEACOCK was his name;
He saw the prince and seiz'd with sudden fright,
All pale he shrunk and turn'd his back for flight;
Swift as he flies, pursues the following dart,
Enters his back and quivers in his heart,

From his torn heart the crimson torrent flow'd,
His tremb'ling knees desert their dying load.
The Africans in one phalanx unite,

While dying groans are mix'd with shouts of fight :

O'er heaps of carcasses and clotted gore,

The heroes press toward the distant shore.
The brave LOUVERTURE with resistless hand,
Pursues, o'erturns, confounds the Christian band;


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