Such, Russel—lov'd companion, faithful friend!
Such were thy motives, such thy purpos'd end.
Thy harmless spirit—gentlest of thy kind,
Was ne'er to savage cruelty inclin'd.
Long might rejoicing Afric see her sons
Crowd freedom's plains, beneath their native thrones;
E're thy meek hand—in virtue only brave,
Had fix'd one fetter on the prostrate slave!
Far other feelings his mild soul imprest;
Far other ardours shook his hopeless breast.