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��— Condemn'd in torrid noon, with palsied hand. To urge the slow plough o'er the obdurate land. The labourer, smitten by the sun's fierce ray, A corpse along the unfinish'd furrow lay. O'erwhelm'd at length with ignominious toil. Mingling their barren ashes with the soil, Down to the dust the Charib people pass'd, Like autumn foliage withering in the blast : The whole race sunk beneath the oppressor's rod^ And left a blank among the works of God.

��END OF THE FIRST PART.

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