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200 Years of Palmetto Poets

Daniel Alexander Payne (1811 - 1893)

Daniel A. Payne was born to free parents in Charleston on February 24, 1811. In 1829 he became an apprentice schoolmaster, and he also taught adult slaves in the evening. In 1835 Payne headed north, eventually settling in Pennsylvania. He became involved with the A.M.E church in Carlisle, PA, but was later ordained as a Lutheran pastor in Philadelphia. In 1841 he returned to the A.M.E. Church. He worked tirelessly both as minister and an educator, traveled throughout both America and Europe, and was active in the abolitionist movement. He was recognized for his devotion and was made a bishop in the A.M.E. Church in 1852. He died in Ohio while serving as the president of Wilberforce University.


From The Pleasures

Long hast thou slumber'd, O my sounding Lyre!
Now Muses wake thee, now thy song inspire;
Now will they tune each soft melodious string,
And in thy lay their sweetest numbers fling.
O lift thy voice on high, and start the soul!
From sinful Pleasure's dark and foul control,
Point her to those whose holy breath imparts
The life of joy to men of virtuous hearts.
Paint thou, the one in colors dark and dire,
Against her charms, the youthful mind inspire
With holy hate; the Other then portray
In robes celestial, such as prophets say
The angels wore when from the courts above,
They came to men with messages of Love.

Wilt thou my thoughts dictate, O holy One!
Who tun'd the harp of Jesse's royal son:
Him didst thou teach in melting strains to pour
His sacred songs o'er Zion's hallowed shore
O that, like his, my humble notes may rise,
With sweet acceptance to the list'ning skies!
Show how the paths of Vice in ruin end,
While Virtue's footsteps up to glory tend.
Pleasures of Vice are those which most pursue,
Regarding all their promised joys as true;
Nor will they heed the warning voice that cries,
The soul which sins. That soul in mis'ry lies.
But, like the headlong horse or stubborn mule,
Despise all truth, condemn all righteous rule,
Delight in sin as swine delight in mire
Till hell itself entomb their sins in fire!
Thus does the Drunkard, it the sparkling bowl,
Pursue the joys which charm his brutish soul;
But soon he feels the serpent's fang is there,
The gall of wo, the demon's awful stare:
For in the visions of his crazied soul,
The furies dance and horrid monsters roll.

Some find their pleasure in tobacco wads,
Delight in them as goats in chewing cuds;
Others believe they find it quite enough,
In smoking cigars, or in taking snuff.
The glutton and the greasy epicure,
Believe they have it-for they tell us so-
In eating venison, turtle-soup and clams,
Beef a la mode and lobsters, ducks and hams;
In puddings, pound-cakes, pies and cold ice cream;
In black-strap, brandy, claret, and champagne.
O who could think that men, to whom is given
Such souls as will outlive the stars of heaven,
Could hope to find in such a low employ,
The sweet pulsations of a real joy!

But dandies find it in their curled hair,
Greas'd with pomatum or the oil of bear;
In fine mustaches, 'breast-pins, golden chains;
In brass-capt boot-heels, or in walking canes.
Some ladies find it in their boas and muffs,
In silks and satins, laces, muslin-stuffs
Made into dresses, pointed, long and wide,
With flounces deep, and bran-bustles beside,
All neat and flowing in Parisian grace;
With small sunshades to screen their smiling face;
Then up the streets, like pea-fowls bright and gay,
They promenade on every sunny day.
Some seek for pleasure in the giddy dance,
Where Fashion smiles, and Beauty's siren glance
The soul delights and fills light bounding hearts
With dreams of love,-such dreams 55 sin imparts;
Not the pure streams that flow, my God, from thee:
The streams of bliss-the love of purity.
In cock-fights others find it; some, in dice;
Some in the chambers of lascivious vice,
The vile blasphemer seeks it in his shame,
Who sport like devisl with the Holy Name.
O hapless wretches! fool'd and self deceived!
Angel's weep o'er you! God Himself is griev'd!


 

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