I question if a thing so vile
Can live beyond the present style,
Or if it should, where could it go,
To find its full repast of woe?
What think you, then, of transmigration,
Or interchange of place and station?
Perhaps the nigger-whippers pass
To shades still darker than of brass,
And copperheads, as seemeth proper,
Put on more sombre hues than copper;