Here you will find the Poem To The Genius Of Africa of poet Robert Southey
O thou who from the mountain's height Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight Of waters to old Niles majestic tide; Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain Recallest thy Palmyra's ancient pride, Amid whose desolated domes Secure the savage chacal roams, Where from the fragments of the hallow'd fane The Arabs rear their miserable homes! Hear Genius hear thy children's cry! Not always should'st thou love to brood Stern o'er the desert solitude Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high; Nor Genius should the midnight song Detain thee in some milder mood The palmy plains among Where Gambia to the torches light Flows radiant thro' the awaken'd night. Ah, linger not to hear the song! Genius avenge thy children's wrong! The Daemon COMMERCE on your shore Pours all the horrors of his train, And hark! where from the field of gore Howls the hyena o'er the slain! Lo! where the flaming village fires the skies! Avenging Power awake--arise! Arise thy children's wrong redress! Ah heed the mother's wretchedness When in the hot infectious air O'er her sick babe she bows opprest-- Ah hear her when the Christians tear The drooping infant from her breast! Whelm'd in the waters he shall rest! Hear thou the wretched mother's cries, Avenging Power awake! arise! By the rank infected air That taints those dungeons of despair, By those who there imprison'd die Where the black herd promiscuous lie, By the scourges blacken'd o'er And stiff and hard with human gore, By every groan of deep distress By every curse of wretchedness, By all the train of Crimes that flow From the hopelessness of Woe, By every drop of blood bespilt, By Afric's wrongs and Europe's guilt, Awake! arise! avenge! And thou hast heard! and o'er their blood-fed plains Swept thine avenging hurricanes; And bade thy storms with whirlwind roar Dash their proud navies on the shore; And where their armies claim'd the fight Wither'd the warrior's might; And o'er the unholy host with baneful breath There Genius thou hast breath'd the gales of Death. So perish still the robbers of mankind! What tho' from Justice bound and blind Inhuman Power has snatch'd the sword! What tho' thro' many an ignominious age That Fiend with desolating rage The tide of carnage pour'd! Justice shall yet unclose her eyes, Terrific yet in wrath arise, And trample on the tyrant's breast, And make Oppresion groan opprest.