The Birthright of Britons, by Eliza Conder
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"With a great sum obtained I this freedom."
"But I was free born."
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Explore the wide Atlantic;
And thrid with every breeze
The southern isles romantic,
That stud Pacific seas;
Their coralline recesses,
Which break the ocean-calm,
And reefs that Nature dresses
With crests of feathery palm.
Speed o'er the bounding surges
That sweep the summer-zone;
The depths the sea-tide merges,
The steeps its waves enthrone:
The gardens ever-flowering,
That plant the Indian wave,
With spicy shades embowering
The soil its waters lave:
Where crowns and thrones barbaric
In orient splendour shine;
Or sceptred realms Tartaric
Exhaust the jewelled mine:
The regions incense-breathing,
Where pearly billows sleep,
In caves of Ormus wreathing
Tiaras for the deep:
The groves whose clusters pendent
The wealth of commerce hold;
And sunny climes resplendent
With Afric's pliant gold.
Could all their bright profusion
In one vast altar rise,
Here in our green seclusion,
A richer dowry lies.
For England holds a treasure,
Than all their glorious spoil
More costly beyond measure: --
The freedom of her soil.
This, this she cannot barter
For wealth of land or sea;
But sends her royal charter,
To set the captive free.
O bright and blessed mission!
When shall her sails convey
The tidings of fruition,
For sickening Hope's delay?
The voice of intercession
Through all our land and that pleads,
Abjures the long oppression,
Whose final moment speeds.
Our oaken forests weaving
The garland of the sea,
Whose billows proudly heaving,
Bear freedom, from the free;
Shall boast a name more glorious,
More fraught with deathless fame,
Than all their fleets victorious
In battled line may claim.
Our flags that yielded never,
But to the tempest's sway, --
Our prows that boldly sever
The ocean's pathless way, --
As borne on wings angelic,
Shall waft the blest release:
Not sealed till every relic
Of Afric's bondage cease.
Their course o'er rock and shallow,
Awaits a prospering gale.
That course may Justice hallow,
And Heaven direct the sail!
Eliza Conder.
Watford,
May, 1833.