human
O heavens! can nature bear the shocking sound Of death or slavery on our native ground. Why was I nurtured of a noble race, And taught to stare destruction in the face? Why was I not laid out a useless _scrub_, And formed for some poor hungry peasant's cub. To hedge and ditch, and with unwearied toil To cultivate for grain a fertile soil, To watch my flocks, and range my pastures through, With all my locks wet with the morning dew, Rather than being great, give up my fame, And lose the ground I never can regain?