Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1856-10-11
Alt Miscellaneous.
From the Prisoners Friend.
IMPRISONMENT OF EMINENT MEN.
BY JoHN c. WRITER.

Juan 4 tucld0.
Juan Placido was born a slave on the estate o
Don Terrible de Castro. His father was anAfrican
his mother a mulatto. His mistress learned hIu
to read, When he was twelve years of age, su,
died aud he fell into other and less compassion
ate hands. AT the age Of eighteen, GA seeing hi
mother struck with heavy whip, he for the Grs
time turned upon his tormentors. To use his owl
words, i ielt the blow in my heart.
To utter a loud cry. and from a Gowncast boy
with the tiinidity of one meek rs a lamb, to becom,
all at once like a raging lion, was II thing of a mo
ment. lie was however, subdued, an. the mex
morning, together with his mother, a tenderll
nurtured and delicate woman, severely scourged
On seeing his mother rudely stripped, and thrown
upon the ground, he at first, with tears, implOreC
the overseer to spare her but at the sound of thu
first blow, as it cut into her naked flesh, he
spidng once more upon the Tufian, who having
superior strength, beat him until he was nearer
dead than alive.
Alter suffering all the yicissitudes Of slavery
munger nakedness, stripes after bravely and no
Oily bearing up against that slow. dreadful process
winch reduces the man to n thing, the image o
uou TO a piece OF merchandise, until he had reach
eu his thirty-eighth year,-he was unexpected,
released from has bonds. Some literary gentlemen
IN Havana, into whose hands two or three pieces
OF MS composition had fallen. struck with the
vlgor, spirit. aud natural grace which they mani
tested, sought out the author, and raised a sub
%scrlpuOn to purchase his freedom. He came to
Havana, and maintained himself by house-paint-
ing, and such other e~mpioyments as his ingenuity
and talents placed within his reach. lie wrote
several poems, which have been published in
Spanish at Havana, and translated by DR.. Madden,
under the title of Poems by a Slave
1t is not too much to say Of these poems, that
they will bear n comparison with most of the pro-
ductions of modern Spanish literature. Certain it
is, that their author is the only Cuban poet. His
style is bold, free, energetic. Some of his pieces are
sportive and graceful such is his Address to the
Cucuya,' or Cuban FREELY. This beautiful insect
is sometimes fastened, in tiny nets, to the light
dresses of the Cuban ladies a custom to which
the writer g~allantly alludes in the following
lines -
'Ah! still as one looks on such brightness and
bloom
On such beauty as hers, one might envy the doom,
OF q captive Cucuya, that's destined, like this,
To be touched by her hand, and revived by her
kiss.
In the cage which her delicate hand has prepared,
The beautiful prisoner nestles unsecured;
Ger her fair forehead shining serenely and
bright,
In beauty's own bondage revealing its light.
And, when the light dance and the revel are done,
She bears it away to her alcove alone,
Where fed by her band from the cane that's most
choice,
In secret it CLEANS at the sound of her voice.
o beautiful maiden may Heaven accord
Thy care of the captive a fitting reward
And never may fortune the letters remove
OF q heart that is thine in the bondage of love p
In his Dream a fragment of some length, he
dwells, in a touching manner, upon the scenes OF
his early years. 1t is addressed to his brother Flor
ence, who was a slave near Mantanzas, whilethe au'
thor was in the same condition at Havana. There
is Il plaintiye and melancholy sweetness in these
lines, a natural pathos, which find their way to
Thou knowest, dear Florence, my sufferings of
old,
The struggles maintained with OPPRESSION for
years
We shared them together and each was consoled
With the love which was nurtured by sorrow and
tears.
But now far apart, the sad pleasure is gone;
We mingle our signs and sorrows no more:
The course is a new one which each has to run
And dreary for each is the pathway before.
But in slumber our spirits at least shall commune;
We will meet, as of old, in the visions Of
sleep,
In dreams which call back early days, whom. at
noon,
We stole to the shade of the p~alm-tree to weep.
For solitude pining, in anguish of late,
The heights Of Quintana l sought for repose;
And there, in the cool and the silence, the weight
OF my cares was forgotten Il felt not my woes.
Exhausted and weary, the spell of the place
Sank down Oh my eyeiids, and soft slumber stole
So sweetly upon me, it left not a trace
Of sorrow o'ercas ting the light Of the SOUL
The writer then ~imagines himself bore lightly
through the air to the place of his birth. The
valley of Mantansas lies beneath him, hallowed
by the graves of his parents. lie proceeds =
4 gazed on that spot where together we played:
Our innocent pastimes came fresh to my mind
Our mothers caress, and the fondness displayed
In each word and each look of a parent so kind.
I looked on the mountain, whose Businesses wild
The fugitives seek from the rifle nd hound.
Below were the fields where they suffered and
toiled
And there the low graves of their comrades are
found.
The mill house was there, and the turmoil of old
But sick of thesU scenes, for too we'll were they
known,
] looked for the stream where in childhood
strolled,
When a moment Of quiet and peace was my
s own.
With mingled emotions of pleasure and pain,
Dear Florence 1 sighed to behold thee once
more;
JsOught thee, my brother, embraced thee AGAIN .
But 4 found thee a staoe, as left Mee before p
Some of his devotional pieces eyince the fervor
and true feeling Of the Christian poet. His Ode
60 Religion contains many admirable lines
Speaking of the martyrs of the early days Of Chris
.tisnity, he says finely
Still in that cradle, purpled with their blood,
The MAN Faith waxed stronger day by day.