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Virginia, mother of greatness, Blush not for being also mother of slaves; You might have borne deeper slaves Doughfaces, crawlers, lice of humanity Terrific screamers of freedom, Who roar and bawl, and get hot i' the face, But were they not incapable of august crime, Would quench the hopes of ages for a drink Muck-worms, creeping flat to the ground, A dollar dearer to them than Christ's blessing; All loves, all hopes, less than the thought of gain, In life walking in that as in a shroud; Men whom the throes of heroes, Great deeds at which the gods might stand appal'd, The shriek of the drown'd, the appeal of women, The exulting laugh of untied empires, Would touch them never in the heart, But only in the pocket.
But to all outrages their hunger runs: Dreadful examples soon I might produce, But to such Auditors 'twere of no use, Again when Delvers dare in hope of gold To ope those veins of Mine, audacious bold; While they thus in mine entrails love to dive, Before they know, they are inter'd alive. Y' affrighted nights appal'd, how do ye shake, When once you feel me your foundation quake?
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