Роберт Андерсон (Robert Anderson)




Текст оригинала на английском языке

The Slave


Torn from every dear connection,
Forc'd across the yielding wave,
The Negro, stung by keen reflection,
May exclaim, Man's but a Slave!

In youth, gay Hope delusive fools him,
Proud her vot'ry to deprave;
In age, self--interest over--rules him--
Still he bends a willing Slave.

The haughty monarch, fearing Reason
May her sons from ruin save,
Of traitors dreaming, plots and treason,
Reigns at best a sceptr'd Slave.

His minion, Honesty would barter,
And become Corruption's knave;
Won by ribband, star, or garter,
Proves himself Ambition's Slave.

Yon Patriot boasts a pure intention,
And of rights will loudly rave,
Till silenc'd by a place or pension,
Th'apostate sits a courtly Slave.

In pulpit perch'd, the pious preacher
Talks of conscience wond'rous grave;
Yet not content, the tithe--paid teacher
Pants to loll a mitr'd Slave.

The soldier, lur'd by sounds of glory,
Longs to shine a hero brave;
And, proud to live in future story,
Yields his life--to Fame a Slave.

Mark yon poor miser o'er his treasure,
Who to Want a mite ne'er gave;
He, shut out from peace and pleasure,
Starves--to Avarice a Slave.

The lover to his mistress bending,
Pants, nor dares her hand to crave;
Vainly sighing, time misspending--
Wisdom scorns the fetter'd Slave.

Thus dup'd by Fancy, Pride, or Folly,
Ne'er content with what we have;
Toss'd 'twixt Hope and Melancholy,
Death at last sets free the Slave. 





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