A FABLE

Les negres et les marionnettes

A captain was to market bound,
With negroes in his ship;
They died of ennui, score by score;
" Pest, " quoth he, " here's a slip!
Fie, lubbers, fie! this is not fair;
But I can cure you of your care.
Come, come and see my puppets play;
Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray. "

Their mortal sorrows to beguile,
A stage is rigged in view;
Punch, all at once, before them stands —
For negroes something new.
At first they know not what to think,
But slily to each other wink:
Then through their tears smiles force their way;
" Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray. "

Look how the constable will plague
The hump-backed king before him;
Who, for example, knocks him down,
And coolly then puffs o'er him
All they forget — nor chains can feel —
Our friends laugh out in boisterous peal
Man gladly casts his cares away;
" Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray. "

The devil comes: well pleased, they note
The rebel angel's hue;
He bears off Punch; this puts their grief
Still further out of view
A black triumphant at the close!
What rapture this last scene bestows!
Poor souls, they dream of glory's ray!
" Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray. "

Thus steering to the Western World,
Where Fate will sterner frown,
The bursting of despondent hearts
By puppets is kept down.
Each king, whom fear hath sobered, thus
Would playthings lavish upon us —
Ah! weary not of life's dull day!
Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray.