Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 2

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     Streams of emotion, overflowing, rise;
Such joy thy birth affords, and glad surprise,
     O nursling of the sunshine and the storm!
Bear witness, Heaven! do I hate Slavery less,—
     Do I not hate it more, intensely more,—
Now this dear babe I to my bosom press?
     My soul is stirred within me—ne'er before
Have horrors filled it with such dire excess,
     Nor pangs so deep pierced to its inmost core!

IV.

Bone of my bone! not all Golconda's gold
     Is worth the value of a hair of thine!
Yet is the Negro's babe as dear as mine--
     Formed in as pure and glorious a mould:
But, ah! inhumanly 'tis seized and sold!
     Thou hast a soul immortal and divine,
My priceless jewel!—In a sable shrine
     Lies a bright gem, ‘bought with a price’ untold!
A little lower than th' angelic train
     Art thou created, and a monarch's power,
My potent infant! with a wide domain,
     O'er beast, bird, fish, and insect, is thy dower:
The Negro's babe with thee was made to reign-
     As high in dignity and worth to tower!

V.

O, dearest child of all this populous earth!
     Yet no more precious than the meanest slave!
To rescue thee from bondage, I would brave
     All dangers, and count life of little worth,
And make of stakes and gibbets scornful mirth!
     Am I not perilling as much to save,
E'en now, from bonds, a race who freedom crave?
     To bless the sable infant from its birth?
Yet I am covered with reproach and scorn,
     And branded as a madman through the land!
But, loving thee, Free one, my own first-born,
     I feel for all who wear an iron band:--
So Heaven regard my son when I am gone,
     And bless and aid him with a liberal hand!