1. When dark night blankets with her pitchy shroud,
And myriad stars break from the welkin proud,

2. Before the Kaaba all of diverse kind,
Th’ Circles’ lords and those of humankind,

3. I sware that ne’er, since first the skies were rolled,
And shone the moon's argentine face of old,

4. Would I disdain as chattel to employ
The meanest slave, or loose my lordly chain;

5. Accurst be they who make the free their thrall,
And curse on them who would be cursed of all!

6. To no base wretch I’d stretch my arm in vain,
Or spare him for the sake of sordid gain;

7. Why, when for use or pleasure slaves you lack,
Need ye oppress the hapless homeless black?