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going to the south
“The Ocean ‘Pirate's’ fiend-like form
Shall sink beneath the vengeance-storm;
His heart of steel shall quake before
The battle-din and havoc roar:
The knave shall die, the Law hath said,
While it protects our own ‘slave trade.’
“What earthly eye presumes to scan
The wily Proteus-heart of man?—
What potent hand will e'er unroll
The mantled treachery of his soul!—
O where is he who hath surveyed
The horrors of our own ‘slave trade?’
“There is an eye that wakes in light,
There is a hand of peerless might;
Which, soon or late, shall yet assail
And rend dissimulation's veil:
Which will unfold the masquerade
Which justifies our own ‘slave trade’”
