Heard Ye Those Mild Tones of Gladness? by John Sheppard
Heard ye those mild tones of gladness
Echoing o'er the Western sea?
'Twas no shout of mirthful madness,
In the dance of slavery.
As the swelling strain comes o'er us
Many a manly tear-drop starts,
At the sable mothers' chorus
Poured from "hundred thousand hearts."
"Smile, my babes!--the words are spoken;
Bondsmen's children,--you are free!
Now the coming fetter's broken,
These soft limbs with joy I see--
"Growing, not for chains to clasp them,
Nor for burning brands to sear;
Ne'er for pitiless hands to grasp them
While the lash is piercing here!
"Grow, my babes, young freedom prizing;
To the scourge no more ye'll bow:
Love the suns from Britain rising,
For ye'll love her white men now."
How shall Britain's heart maternal
Answer best these artless songs?
What but gifts untold, eternal,
Can outweigh those ancient wrongs?
Waft your sympathetic promise,
Loud responsive, o'er the deep:
"Sable mothers, ask not from us
Yet to smile: 'tis ours to weep,
"Weep we o'er that iron bruising,
Borne for ages, healed not soon;
'Midst our tears with joy diffusing
Heavenly freedom's nobler boon.
"Tell your 'little ones' we owe them,
And will send them, 'light and truth;'
Light from heaven shall soon o'erflow them,
Guard and guide their joyous youth.
"We would have them free for ever;
'Free indeed;' in spirit free;
Bonds of guilt and grief dissever,
Foil e'en death's captivity.
"Give 'glad tidings' from above;
Preach 'a blood-bought free reward;'
Then they must the white man love,
When they love his bleeding Lord."
J. S.
Frome.