The Two Fugitives Poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark

Hard by, within a southern clime,
There liv'd a patriarch sublime,
With slaves to tremble at his nod,
As heathens to a wooden god.

Two fav'rite slaves this lord possess'd,
(Perhaps more knowing than the rest,)
Who long desir'd to seek a place
Where slav'ry dar'd not show its face.

At length they heard that liberty
Was found beyond the States called free,
So they determined, come what may,
To leave their lord without delay.

Accordingly, as night approach'd,
Snugly ensconc'd within a coach,
They quickly left their lord's domain,
Through storm, and snow, and hail, and rain.

An hour or so had scarce gone by,
Ere there was raised a great outcry:—
'Pursue! pursue! you'll find their track—
Fly quick! and overtake the hack!'

The nags were faint—the snow was deep—
And up the hills they scarce could creep—
When, suddenly, three men cried out,
'Stop! stop that hack; turn quick about!

'We wish to know if you 've white men,
Or ‘niggers,’ for we've come for them!
We're authorized to take them now—
Two thousand doll's are ours, we vow.'

The driver, tremb'ling, soon obey'd,—
Their orders to fulfil essayed;—
The men within said, ''Tis but death—
We'll fight them while we've life and breath!'

A scuffle quickly now ensued;
With moral power they were endued.
They fired,—they missed,—they fired again,—
'Two thousand dollars' lost—and men!

The 'slaves' at length a refuge found,
Until the snow had left the ground—
When off they marched for Canada,
Protected by Victoria!