The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Название: The Complete Poems Of Paul Laurence Dunbar

Автор: Paul Laurence Dunbar

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 9781473370302

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СКАЧАТЬ I tell you, fellah christuns,

      Things’ll happen mighty strange;

      Now, de Lawd done dis fu’ Isrul,

      An’ his ways don’t nevah change,

      An’ de love he showed to Isrul

      Was n’t all on Isrul spent;

      Now don’t run an’ tell yo’ mastahs

      Dat I’s preachin’ discontent.

      ‘Cause I isn’t; I’se a-judgin’

      Bible people by deir ac’s;

      I ‘se a-givin’ you de Scriptuah,

      I ‘se a-handin’ you de fac’s.

      Cose ole Pher’oh b’lieved in slav’ry,

      But de Lawd he let him see,

      Dat de people he put bref in,—

      Evah mothah’s son was free.

      An’ dahs othahs thinks lak Pher’oh,

      But dey calls de Scriptuah liar,

      Fu’ de Bible says “a servant

      Is a-worthy of his hire.”

      An’ you cain’t git roun’ nor thoo dat,

      An’ you cain’t git ovah it,

      Fu’ whatevah place you git in,

      Dis hyeah Bible too ‘ll fit.

      So you see de Lawd’s intention,

      Evah sence de worl’ began,

      Was dat His almighty freedom

      Should belong to evah man,

      But I think it would be bettah,

      Ef I’d pause agin to say,

      Dat I’m talkin’ ‘bout ouah freedom

      In a Bibleistic way.

      But de Moses is a-comin’,

      An’ he’s comin’, suah and fas’

      We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin’,

      We kin hyeah his trumpit blas’.

      But I want to wa’n you people,

      Don’t you git too brigity;

      An’ don’t you git to braggin’

      ‘Bout dese things, you wait an’ see.

      But when Moses wif his powah

      Comes an’ sets us chillun free,

      We will praise de gracious Mastah.

      Dat has gin us liberty;

      An’ we ‘ll shout ouah halleluyahs,

      On dat mighty reck’nin’ day,

      When we ‘se reco’nised ez citiz’—

      Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!

      ODE TO ETHIOPIA

      O Mother Race! to thee I bring

      This pledge of faith unwavering,

      This tribute to thy glory.

      I know the pangs which thou didst feel,

      When Slavery crushed thee with its heel,

      With thy dear blood all gory.

      Sad days were those—ah, sad indeed!

      But through the land the fruitful seed

      Of better times was growing.

      The plant of freedom upward sprung,

      And spread its leaves so fresh and young—

      Its blossoms now are blowing.

      On every hand in this fair land,

      Proud Ethiope’s swarthy children stand

      Beside their fairer neighbor;

      The forests flee before their stroke,

      Their hammers ring, their forges smoke,—

      They stir in honest labour.

      They tread the fields where honour calls;

      Their voices sound through senate halls

      In majesty and power.

      To right they cling; the hymns they sing

      Up to the skies in beauty ring,

      And bolder grow each hour.

      Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul;

      Thy name is writ on Glory’s scroll

      In characters of fire.

      High ‘mid the clouds of Fame’s bright sky

      Thy banner’s blazoned folds now fly,

      And truth shall lift them higher.

      Thou hast the right to noble pride,

      Whose spotless robes were purified

      By blood’s severe baptism.

      Upon thy brow the cross was laid,

      And labour’s painful sweat-beads made

      A consecrating chrism.

      No other race, or white or black,

      When bound as thou wert, to the rack,

      So seldom stooped to grieving;

      No other race, when free again,

      Forgot the past and proved them men

      So noble in forgiving.

      Go on and up! Our souls and eyes

      Shall follow thy continuous rise;

      Our ears shall list thy story

СКАЧАТЬ