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Before day-light LANGO the king's youngest son leaves the town and joins the warrior train..... His youth, his courage and his filial love describ'd.... The battle commences with the rising sun....The effects of the slave-trade delineated in the number of men that fall on either side.... Young LANGO is slain by WILLMORE..... His mother is frantic for her son....Laments with the old king when the corpse is conveyed to the town....LOUVERTURE pursues WILLMORE, kills his son LAMBERT, who attempts to defend his sire, and then kills WILLMORE himself....He is described as an atheist....Fears to die.....After his death his spirit is conveyed to the shades by deamons.... The slavers' army completely routed...The Africans while pursuing them to their boats behold twenty Guinea ships standing in for the shore....They are discouraged, and give up the pursuit....The sun sets...LOUVERTURE described as a good general and a loving son..... His lamentations....Sends his brother MONDINGO to explore the foe.... His sad report...He encourages his troops.



AND now bright Venus told th' approach of day,
Before Aurora spread a purple ray,

Or Sol triumphant on his golden car,


With loosen'd reigns ascends the atmosphere,
While up the heav'ns his fiery coursers fly,
And gilds with orient light the sable sky,
Devours the atherial fields, outstrips the wind,
And leaves the pinions of the storm behind;
E'er his fierce steeds high bounding o'er the sea,
From their wide nostrils snorted beams of day;
The monarch's youngest son, LANGO by name,
Then left the town behind, and cross'd the plain,
To join his brothers and the warrior train.
From his fond mother's arms, and sire he fled,
And from the sable train who mourn'd the dead;
Swift as wild wind, towards the host he came,
A stranger to the war and voice of fame.
Soon as the little sable boy could go,
On his young shoulders hung a slender bow,
A small light quiver at his side he wore,
And in his hand a painted jav'lin bore;
No rich embroider'd robes his limbs enfold,
Nor was his sable hair adorn'd with gold:
The spoils of some fierce tiger wrapp'd him round,
That from his head hung trailing to the ground;

Ev'n then his tender hand the dart could fling,
Or whirl the pebble from the sounding sling;
Strike the long crane or snowy swan, on high,
And fetch the tow'ring eagle from the sky :
So young, that springing down had scarce began
To shade his sable cheeks, and promise man ;
Nor had he yet receiv'd the warrior's arms,
But far excel'd his father's sons in charms.
He sent his voice before him as he ran,

And thus, in brief, the panting youth began:

"A glorious warmth, LOUVERTURE, breaks my rest,
Some high exploit lies throbbing at my my breast,
Courag'ous hopes with mighty ardours raise,
And set my mounting spirits in a blaze;
Permit me then to join the bloody fray,
And die, or conquer, on this signal day."
The prince with love, all destitute of pride,
First shed a tender tear, and thus reply'd :
"And will my dear, dear LANGO, thoughtless boy,
Your mother's comfort and your father's joy,

And will

thus you


tender life expose To all the rage of bloody Christian foes?

And can you thus, your loving sire bereave
Of such a son, and force him to the grave;
And can you cause your mother's soul to know
Such heart felt pangs, unutterable woe ?
Thy dear fond mother, who the loss of thee,
Would plunge in woe and sov'reign misery."
“In vain, (he cries) my courage you restrain,
My soul's on fire, and you but plead in vain ;
Thyself can witness that my worth is try'd,
We've vanquish'd woodland monsters side by side;
Like thine, this bosom glows with martial flame,
Burns with a scorn of life, and love of fame;

And thinks, if endless glory can be sought

On such low terms, the prize is cheaply bought."
"Let not such jealous fears alarm thy breast,
(The chief replies) thy valour stands confess'd;
But let the danger fall (he cries) on me,
In such a war I durst not think on thee:
No, let me fight the cruel Christian train,
Then come victorious to thy arms again;
But should I fall, nor in my plan succeed,
Should I (which heav'n avert) but should I bleed,
Live thou; in death some pleasure that will give,
Live, for LOUVERTURE's sake, I charge thee live ;
Thy tender youth a longer term demands,
Live to release my corpse from hostile hands,
And decent to the silent grave commend
The relics of thy brother and thy friend;
Or raise at least, by kind remembrance led,
A vacant tomb in honour of the dead;
But if you are resolv'd the war to wage,
And rise the ZANGO of the future age,
No fortune henceforth from my soul shall part,
Still at my side and ever at my heart;

My dangers, councils, glories, thoughts, to share,
My friend in peace, my brother in the war."
“All, all my life, (replies the youth) shall aim
Like this one hour, at everlasting fame;
Tho' fortune only my attempt can bless,
Yet still my courage shall deserve success;
But one reward I ask before I


The greatest I can ask, or you bestow;
My mother, tender, pious, fond, and good,
Thinks I am hunting in the distant wood,
Such was her love, she fear'd to let me see


Our heroes fight, the Christian's villainy;
And such is mine, that I must keep unknown
From her the danger of so dear a son;

To spare her anguish, lo, I quit the place,
Without one parting kiss, one last embrace.
By night, and by yon golden star, I swear,
Her melting tears are more than I can bear;
For her, for her, your pity I implore,

Ah! comfort, comfort her, when I'm no more!
Ol! let her, let her find when I am gone,

In you, a younger, as an older son:

With that dear hope, (he cries) which soothes my soul,”.

While down his cheeks a tear unbidden stole,

"With that dear hope, embolden'd will I go;

Brave every danger, and defy the foe."

Charm'd with his words, which every chieftain hears, But most of all LOUVERTURE melts to tears;

To see the sorrows of a loving son,

And filial tenderness, so like his own;

And thus spoke QUACO, an illustrious sage,
Renown'd for wisdom, and rever'd for age:
"Yes the good spirit, gracious and divine,
Will save our children, and the royal line;
Since he the bosoms of our youth inspire,
With such high courage, such determined fire ;"
Then in his arms the melting boy he took,
First shed a tear, and panting thus bespoke :
"Oh! what reward brave youth, can we impart,
What honour equal to so brave a heart?
The best, the fairest, all th' applauding sky,
And thy own conscious virtue, shall apply;
The next our gracious sovereign shall bestow,
And brave LOUVERTURE's future years shall owe;
Whatever boon such merit can receive,

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