See!
There he stands; not brave, but with an
Of sullen stupor.
Mark him well!
Is
Not more like brute than man?
Look in his eye!
No light is there; none, save the glint that
In the now glaring, and now shifting
Of some wild animal caught in the hunter's trap.
How came this beast in human shape and form?
Speak, man! — We call you man because you
His shape-How are you thus?
Are you not
That docile, child-like, tender-hearted
Which we have known three centuries?
Not
That more than faithful race which through three
Fed our dear wives and nursed our helpless
Without a single breach of trust?
Speak out!
I am, and am not.
Then who, why are you?
I am a thing not new,
I am as
As human nature.
I am that which lurks,
Ready to spring whenever a bar is loosed;
The ancient trait which fights
Against restraint, balks at the upward climb;
The weight forever seeking to
The law of downward pull; and I am more:
The bitter fruit am I of planted seed;
The resultant, the inevitable
Of evil forces and the powers of wrong.
Lessons in degradation, taught and learned,
The memories of cruel sights and deeds,
The pent-up bitterness, the unspent
Filtered through fifteen generations
Sprung up and found in me sporadic life.
In me the muttered curse of dying men,
On me the stain of conquered women,
Consuming me the fearful fires of lust,
Lit long ago, by other hands than mine.
In me the down-crushed spirit, the hurled-back
Of wretches now long dead, — their dire bequests, —In me the echo of the stifled
Of children for their bartered mothers' breasts.
I claim no race, no race claims me;
I
No more than human dregs; degenerate;
The monstrous offspring of the monster,
Sin;
I am-just what I am . . . .
The race that
Your wives and nursed your babes would do the
To-day, but I —Enough, the brute must die!
Quick!
Chain him to that oak!
It will
The fire much longer than this slender pine.
Now bring the fuel!
Pile it 'round him!
Wait!
Pile not so fast or high! or we shall
The agony and terror in his face.
And now the torch!
Good fuel that! the
Already leap head-high.
Ha! hear that shriek!
And there's another!
Wilder than the first.
Fetch water!
Water!
Pour a little
The fire, lest it should burn too fast.
Hold so!
Now let it slowly blaze again.
See there!
He squirms!
He groans!
His eyes bulge wildly out,
Searching around in vain appeal for help!
Another shriek, the last!
Watch how the
Grows crisp and hangs till, turned to ash, it
Down through the coils of chain that hold
The ghastly frame against the bark-scorched tree.
Stop! to each man no more than one man's share.
You take that bone, and you this tooth; the chain —Let us divide its links; this skull, of course,
In fair division, to the leader comes.
And now his fiendish crime has been avenged;
Let us back to our wives and children. — Say,
What did he mean by those last muttered words,"Brothers in spirit, brothers in deed are we"?
