Walter Everette Hawkins, "Ode to Ethiopia" (1909)
Think not, O Ethiopia,
Thy gift to greatness small;
Within the courts where glory dwells
Hangs high upon the wall
The scroll of fame whereon thy name
In burning truth sublime
Tells of thy deeds which shall survive
The crumbling years of time.
Tho earth ungrateful for the blood
Thy sons have fed her soil,
And man forget the virtue of
Thy ever matchless toil;
Eternal Truth shall weave in song
Thy gift to martyrdom
To be the theme of angels in
The crowning years to come.
What grander boast than boast of mind,
Of might, of heart and soul?
What nobler triumphs dare to find
Adornment on life's scroll
Than conquests wrought mid stripes and chains
Despite the chastening rod?
Thy ebon Royalty remains
The sanction of a God.
Go, Saxon, from Gibraltar search
To shores of Hebrides,
Search from fair Hellas on the South
Beyond the Northern Seas,
You find no such heroic race
As thy black fellow man—
We fling defiance in thy face,
The black man leads the van.
Thy palest son e'er bleached by snows
Blown from fair Caucasus height
Can boast no richer laurels won
Than by the black man's might;
No generation, kindred, kind,
Nor race, nor tribe, nor clan,
Has triumphed mid such threatening doom—
The black man leads the van.
O Ethiopia, my pride,
I love thee as a bride,
The ebon richness of thy hues—
I clasp thee to my side;
From thy rich blood brave kings have sprung
And choicest queens are born,
Thy velvet beauty dearer far
Than palest lily grown.
Tho savage might may lead thee forth
And spoil thy happy isle,
And weld the chains to mock thy pride,
Thy fairy lands defile;
Thy master soul 'neath shattered dreams
Doth still shine forth serene—
Despite the dreams that might have been,
Thou art thyself, O Queen.
Published in Chords and Discords, 1909