Haste, oh ye rulers of the nation!
And Afric’s trade destroy;
A trade that scatters devastation,
And blasts each social joy;
A trade accursed, whose every feature
A horrid wildness wears,
And which adown the cheek of nature,
Should draw incessant tears.

Lured by the promise of promotion,
And hopes of speedy store,
Poor Jem, who oft had braved the ocean,
Resolved for Afric’s shore.
In vain each relative dissuaded,
E’en Nanny sigh’d in vain;
He felt—but all they urged, evaded,
He smiled and sought the main.

Now on the coast, his constitution
Soon felt the baneful soil,
Yet still he faced with resolution,
Each pestilential toil.
The smokes commenced, his vigor fail’d him,
Home every thought possess’d,
The deadly nausea soon assail’d him,
Ah!—need I speak the rest.

That James from this sad world was parted,
The half-mast ensign told,
A braver youth, or more kind-hearted,
Ne’er on the salt wave roll’d.
The sun-burnt crew with grief convey’d him
To where poor seamen lie,
And while they in the white beach laid him,
Tears flow’d from many an eye.

Now o’er his grave, with breezy motion,
The drooping wild-cane sighs,
And from the ever-beating ocean
Hoarse gloomy murmurs rise.
Swift thro’ the weeds and flowers that cover
His turf, the lizards play,
While o’er the spot dark vultures hover,
And eye the earth for prey.

Thus, far from every dear connexion,
In sorrow doubly dear,
No tongue to whisper kind affection,
Nor soothe each boding fearl
Uncheer’d, unnursed, nay unattended,
Midst noise and putrid air,
Thus the loved youth his being ended,
Then seamen, oh! beware.