On Seeing The Captives, Lately Redeem'D From Barbary By His Majesty. - Poem by Mary Barber
A sight like this, who can unmov'd survey?
Impartial Muse, can'st thou with--hold thy Lay?
See the freed Captives hail their native Shore,
And tread the Land of Liberty once more:
See, as they pass, the crouding People press,
Joy in their Joy, and their Dellv'rer bless.
Now, Slavery! no more thy rigid Hand
Shall drag the Trader to thy fatal Strand:
No more in Iron Bonds the Wretched groan;
Secur'd, Britannia, by thy Guardian Throne.
Say, mighty Prince! can Empire boast a Bliss,
Amidst its radiant Pomp, that equals this?
To see the Captives by thy Pow'r set free,
Their Supplications raise to Heav'n for Thee!
The god like Bounty scatters Blessings round;
As flowing Urns enrich the distant Ground:
No more shall Woes the fainting Heart destroy;
The House of Mourning now is turn'd to Joy:
See Arms in Grief long folded up, extend,
To clasp a Husband, Brother, Kinsman, Friend:
See hoary Parents, tott'ring o'er the Grave,
A Son long--wail'd, to prop their Age, receive:
And, Have we liv'd to see thy Face? they cry;
O! 'tis enough--We now in Peace shall die:
O bless'd be Heaven! and bless'd, while Life remains.
Shall be the Hand, that has unbound thy Chains!
Forbear, my Muse; know Art attempts in
What Nature pictures to the Breast humane.
To Wager turn; for Wager raise thy Voice;
To feed the Hungry, long has been his Choice,
And make the Heart, born down by Care, rejoice.
Say, ye Luxurious, who indulge your Taste,
And, by one Riot, might a Thousand feast;
Do you not blush to see his Care to feed
The Captives by your Monarch's Bounty freed?
The bitter Cup of Slavery is past;
But pining Penury approaches fast.
And shall the Royal Rage alone bestow?
Shall not Compassion from the Subject flow?
Shall not each free--born Briton's Bosom melt,
To make the Joys of Liberty more felt?
So, Albion, be it ever giv'n to thee,
To break the Bonds, and set the Pris'ners free
Comments about On Seeing The Captives, Lately Redeem'D From Barbary By His Majesty. by Mary Barber
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.