G

G is the Gong, whose rolling sound,
Before the morning light,
Calls up the little sleeping slave,
To labor until night.

H

H is the Hound his master trained,
And called to scent the track
Of the unhappy Fugitive,
And bring him trembling back.

I

I is the Infant, from the arms
Of its fond mother torn,
And, at a public auction, sold
With horses, cows, and corn.

J

J is the Jail, upon whose floor
That wretched mother lay,
Until her cruel master came,
And carried her away.

K