Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poems of Henry W. Longfellow. New York: A.L. Burt Co., 1901,
pages 231-223.
The Slaver in the broad lagoon
Lay moored with idle sail;
He waited for the rising moon,
And for the evening gale.
Upn the shore his boat was tied
And all her listless crew
Watched the gray alligator slide
Into the still bayou.
Odors of orange-flowers, and spice.
Reached them from time to time,
Like airs that breathe from Paradise
Upon a world of crime.
The Planter, under his roof of
thatch,
Smoked thoughtfully and slow:
The Slayer's thumb was on the
latch,
He seemed in haste to go.
He said, "My ship at anchor rides
In yonder broad lagoon;
I only wait the evening tides,
And the rising of the moon.
Before them, with her face upraised,
In timid attitude,
Like one half curious, half amazed,
A Quadroon maiden stood.
Her eyes were large, and full of
light,
Her arms and neck were bare;
No garment she wore save a kirtle
bright,
And her own long, raven hair.
And on her lips there played a smile
As holy, meek, and faint,
As lights in some cathedral aisle
The features of a saint.
"The soil is barren,--the farm is
old;"
The thoughtful Planter said;
When looked upon the Slaver's gold,
And then upon the maid.
His heart within him was at strife
With such accursed gains;
For he knew whose passions gave
her life
Whose blood ran in her veins.
But the voice of nature was too
weak;
He took the glittering gold!
Then pale as death grew the
maiden's cheek,
Her hands as icy cold.
But the voice of nature was took
weak;
He took the glittering gold!
Then pale as death grew the
maiden's cheek,
He hands as icy cold.
The Slaver led her from the door,
He led her by the hand,
To be his slave and paramour
In a strange and distant land!