Futurity, by James Edmeston
Over Afric's golden plains,
Golden visions seem to rise;
There, where now Oppression reigns,
Freedom's sun shall light the skies!
Had I the enchanted lyre,
Tun'd to touch the inmost soul,
Speaking passion, flashing fire,
Holding hearts in its control, --
Oh! methinks I could detail,
Scenes all beauteous and sublime;
But these feeble harp-notes fail
To express the deeds of Time.
When thy villages shall shine,
Glorious with a Saviour's name,
And his Spirit all divine,
Kindle there a heavenly flame;
When beneath the palm-tree's shade,
And the tropic free-bird's song,
As the rapid evenings fade,
In swift coming night along;
Where the lion now awaits,
And the murderer lurks to slay,
Praise shall dwell in all thy gates,
And thy children kneel to pray.
Sable Queen of injured men,
God shall come and dwell in thee;
Where is now the robber's den,
Shall His holy Temple be.
Nor thine earthly greatness less,
Come it will -- it is decreed --
God will deign thy land to bless,
And thou shalt be blest indeed.
Armies through thy realms shall rise,
Navies ride upon thy seas,
Senates, virtuous and wise, --
Thine, thou Sable Queen, are these.
Then, perchance, along thy roads,
Shall the tyrant's children roam,
(He who now thine exile goads)
Friendless and without a home.
Then be mindful of the land
Who was first to set thee free;
She, who burst thine iron band,
Britain, Nurse of Liberty.
When each heart now beating rests,
And each hand can do no more,
Give back into our children's breasts,
The boon their fathers gave before.
James Edmeston.