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to that style of poetry, and adapted to popular airs, might perhaps be the most efficient mode of promoting the interests of the cause. The Poet lost no time in complying with this solicitation, and composed three ballads, one of which he transmitted to the General, with the following letter. Their insertion will form an appropriate conclusion to this volume.
TO GENERAL COWPER.
My dear General —A letter is not pleasant which excites curiosity, but does not gratify it. Such a letter was my last, the defects of which I therefore take the first opportunity to supply. When the condition of our negroes in the islands was first presented to me as a subject for songs, I felt myself not at all allured to the undertaking; it seemed to offer only images of horror, which could by no means be accommodated to the style of that sort of composition. But, having a desire to comply, if possible, with the request made to me, after turning the matter in my mind as many ways as I could, I at last, as I told you, produced three, and that which appears to myself the best of those three I have sent you. Of the other two, one is serious, in a strain of thought perhaps rather too serious, and I could not help it. The other, of which the slave-trader is himself the subject, is somewhat ludicrous. If I could think them worth your seeing, I would, as opportunity should occur, send them also. If this amuses you I shall be glad.
THE MORNING DREAM, A BALLAD.
To the tune of "Tweed Side."*
Far hence to the westward I sail'd,
In the steerage a woman I saw,
Such at least was the form that she wore,
Shed light like a sun on the waves,
Then, raising her voice to a strain,
The sweetest that ear ever heard,
Thus swiftly dividing the flood,
To a slave-cultured island we came,
These verses were set to a popular tune, for the purpose of general circulation, and to aid the efforts then making for the abolition of the slave trade.
In his hand, as a sign of his sway,
A scourge hung with lashes he bore,
But soon as, approaching the land,
That goddess-like woman he view'd,
And, the moment the monster expir'd,
Awaking, how could I but muse
At what such a dream should betide,
END OF VOL. III.
IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.