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- who, incited to obtain their liberty, might wreak some dreadful
vengeance? Avaunt, thou king! _thou_ horrified at this? Go back to Odo,
and right her wrongs! These serfs are happier than thine; though thine,
no collars wear; more happy as they are, than if free. Are they not
fed, clothed, and cared for? Thy serfs pine for food: never yet did
these; who have no thoughts, no cares.”
“Thoughts and cares are life, and liberty, and immortality!” cried
Babbalanja; “and are their souls, then, blown out as candles?”
“Ranter! they are content,” cried Nulli. “They shed no tears.”
“Frost never weeps,” said Babbalanja; “and tears are frozen in those
frigid eyes.”
“Oh fettered sons of fettered mothers, conceived and born in manacles,”
cried Yoomy; “dragging them through life; and falling with them,
clanking in the grave:—oh, beings as ourselves, how my stiff arm
shivers to avenge you! ’Twere absolution for the matricide, to strike
one rivet from your chains. My heart outswells its home!”
“Oro! Art thou?” cried Babbalanja; “and doth this thing exist? It
shakes my little faith.” Then, turning upon Nulli, “How can ye abide to
sway this curs’d dominion?”
“Peace, fanatic! Who else may till unwholesome fields, but these? And
as these beings are, so shall they remain; ’tis right and righteous!
Maramma champions it!—I swear it! The first blow struck for them,
dissolves the union of Vivenza’s vales. The northern tribes well know
it; and know me.”
Said Media, “Yet if—”
“No more! another word, and, king as thou art, thou shalt be
dungeoned:—here, there is such a law; thou art not among the northern
tribes.”
“And this is freedom!” murmured Media; “when heaven’s own voice is
throttled. And were these serfs to rise, and fight for it; like dogs,
they would be hunted down by her pretended sons!”
“Pray, heaven!” cried Yoomy, “they may yet find a way to loose their
bonds without one drop of blood. But hear me, Oro! were there no other
way, and should their masters not relent, all honest hearts must cheer
this tribe of Hamo on; though they cut their chains with blades thrice
edged, and gory to the haft! ’Tis right to fight for freedom, whoever
be the thrall.”
“These South savannahs may yet prove battle-fields,” said Mohi;
gloomily, as we retraced our steps.
“Be it,” said Yoomy. “Oro will van the right.”
“Not always has it proved so,” said Babbalanja. “Oft-times, the right
fights single-handed against the world; and Oro champions none. In all
things, man’s own battles, man himself must fight. Yoomy: so far as
feeling goes, your sympathies are not more hot than mine; but for these
serfs you would cross spears; yet, I would not. Better present woes for
some, than future woes for all.”
“No need to fight,” cried Yoomy, “to liberate that tribe of Hamo
instantly; a way may be found, and no irretrievable evil ensue.”
“Point it out, and be blessed, Yoomy.”
“That is for Vivenza; but the head is dull, where the heart is cold.”
“My lord,” said Babbalanja, “you have startled us by your kingly
sympathy for suffering; say thou, then, in what wise manner it shall be
relieved.”
“That is for Vivenza,” said Media.
“Mohi, you are old: speak thou.”
“Let Vivenza speak,” said Mohi.
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