YE children of Pleasure, come hither and see
A sight that shall check your irreverent glee!
Ye children of Woe, hear a tale which awhile
A sense of your own various griefs shall beguile!
Thy tear at that tale, divine sympathy! shed;
Rejoice, sweet Compassion! at viewing this grave;
Here wretchedness hides unmolested his head,
For under this turf lies a poor Negro Slave!

Depriv'd of whatever endears us to life,
His country, his freedom, his children, and wife!
Grown mad with reflection, his spirit he freed
With pity, ye rigid, contemplate the deed!
His corpse, unregarded, disgrac'd the highway;
'Till, blushing, Humanity's credit to save,
With tenderness, Charity hasten'd to pay
Morality's due to the poor Negro Slave!

Ye kind passers by, who this sport turn to view,
The tribute bequeath to his mem'ry due
May peace watch his pillow whose breast can bestow
A generous sigh to the annals of woe!
The sigh that you heave, and the tear that you shed,
Remembrance on heaven's blest records shall 'grave;
But vengeance shall heavily fall on each head
That spurn'd and oppress'd him, a poor Negro Slave!