Poet
printed 1898
A pen name. The ode appeared in two parts in the Sierra Leone Times in April 1898, at the height of the Hut Tax War. It praises Bai Bureh and blames the Governor, Frederick Cardew, who sent it to London as proof that Freetown sided with the rising.
Source ↗“Iustum et tenacem propositi virum Non civium ardor prava jubentium Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solida” (Horace) Awake O lute! And chant the present lay Of Afric’s proud arms, and Bureh’s lofty sway Twixt Lokkoh Port and K’rene lies a large and vasty waste Commonly called Kassi county, and Bai Bureh King survey Now, Bai, says his lord, to me, pay and live: Per house in thy sway, as annual tribute Of pence, twice thirty, both you and your men If not Bai, be sure, shall perish, when I send Of my men twenty yea thirty even twice the respective nos. Whilst the groans will I bear of casualties’ pain When two of my officers and six W.I.R. and yea even When two F.P.s and of laborers twelve, thy pot-made Shots shall wound. Insatiate as thou art, The spoils of cities razed and warriors stain We share with justice as with toil we gain Decent confusion! This the savage man perceived And to the lord’s heralds thus with accent mild began – “I know your message – by constraint you came Not you, but your imperious lord I blame. But first and to your lord declare (That haughty Knight-let whose commands you bear) Unmoved by death Bai Bureh shall remain [Though prostrate [?] his sway shall bleed at every vein] Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train Lend all his hosts my forest waste Declare now tis given him to burn The fruitfulness of wide extended Kassi-land And further let him know I am his slave no more Nor shall my several fleet be seen in Freetonians sacred shore My supplies of rice and wood shall they crave in vain Thus as lord-lived citizens shall they share my wrath Potatoe, foofoo, yea okra and all my forest herbs (the vulgars’ food) Shall they no more enjoy. So that they in want might insinuate [?] their lord.” And to you war-boys and country-men, continues the fierce-made Bai, “To the earth render no more richness, to the streams no more sweetness.” Thus shall I render to nature, justice, when that ruler to her, injustice. From henceforth let there be no more Twixt you and Freetown, of transactions, any kind Till the head of your Chief be made humble in the dust.
Transcribed by Gabriella Ekman (2014), appendix, from the Sierra Leone Times at the British Library. W.I.R. is the West India Regiment, F.P.s the Frontier Police. Words marked [?] are unclear in the original.
Thus for Vic. Our Royal Queen, a queen mightier than Anne, Our first Battalion Regiment marshalled the embattled train; With Bombs, fire-arms, and other strength, they rote that forest waste To check that rude and haughty Chief, who that dear name defies O mother England! Model to thy inward greatness Like little body with a mighty heart What might’st thou do, that honor would thee do Were all thy children kind and natural But see thy fault! And whilst as grateful subjects We to the Olympian height the following anthem raise “God save our Gracious Queen, long live our noble Queen Long may she reign o’er us, and make all enemies fail” Tho’ through fetish to that height too unchristian Bai doth cling And with no less grave accents than Deity, addressed – “O God of Battles! O bon Dieu! Defend a chieftain’s right not let him, as a coward die But if Bai must die, let him know the cause for which he dies.” Yea it is pain indeed, when subjects grow too wise To instruct their Sovereign Lord where his error lies But if by one Sovereign act I too must share a lot When creation groan in pain and food grew scarce Why should every pen grow cold, if we with want must die But proud Bai Bureh, learn this well, though thou art wrongly defied The man with whom thou now contend is but thy Lord by strength too high In arms, minds and, other strength, than thee by far refined Warriors, like you, with strength and wisdom blessed By brave examples will confirm the rest. Yet beware! For dreadful is the wrath of kings. Be still, insolent chief, and to thy betters yield Unknown alike in council and in fields. For to day To one sole monarch God commits the sway Hers are the laws, and her let all obey. “Concordia res parvae crescunt, discordia maximae dilabuntur” (Sallust)
Transcribed by Gabriella Ekman (2014), appendix, from the Sierra Leone Times at the British Library.