© 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019 by Sarah N. Roth,

Meredith College

Created with Wix.com

THE NAT TURNER PROJECT

  • HOME

  • SETTING

  • REVOLT

  • AFTERMATH

  • IMPACT

  • More

    MEMORY

     

    Newspaper Articles, 1861 - 1931

    Brown, The Black Man, 1863

    Berry, WPA Narrative, 1937

    WPA, Negro in Virginia, 1940

    Hayden, Ballad of Nat, 1962

    Webb, Sketches, 1963

    Ol' Prophet Nat, 1967

    Reviews of Styron's Books

    A Troublesome Property, 2003

    Kyle Baker, Nat Turner, 2008

    New Nat Turners, Jul. 2016

    The Birth of a Nation, 2016

    Robert Hayden, A Ballad of Remembrance, 1962

     

    “The Ballad of Nat Turner”

     

    Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba

                      and wandered wandered far

    from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night.

                      Fool of St. Elmo’s fire

     

    In scary night I wandered, praying,

                      Lord God my harshener,

    speak to me now or let me die;

                      speak, Lord, to this mourner.

     

    And came at length to livid trees

                      where Ibo warriors

    hung shadowless, turning in wind

                      that moaned like Africa,

     

    Their belltongue bodies dead, their eyes

                      alive with the anger deep

    in my own heart. Is this the sign,

                      the sign forepromised me?

     

    The spirits vanished. Afraid and lonely

                      I wandered on in blackness.

    Speak to me now or let me die.

                      Die, whispered the blackness.

     

    And wild things gasped and scuffled in

                      the night; seething shapes

    of evil frolicked upon the air.

                      I reeled with fear, I prayed.

     

    Sudden brightness clove the preying

                      darkness, brightness that was

    itself a golden darkness, brightness

                      so bright that it was darkness.

     

    And there were angels, their faces hidden

                      from me, angels at war

    with one another, angels in dazzling

                      combat. And oh the splendor,

     

    The fearful splendor of that warring.

                      Hide me, I cried to rock and bramble.

    Hide me, the rock, the bramble cried. . . .

                      How tell you of that holy battle?

     

    The shock of wing on wing and sword

                      on sword was the tumult of

    a taken city burning. I cannot

                      say how long they strove,

     

    For the wheel in a turning wheel which is time

                      in eternity had ceased

    its whirling, and owl and moccasin,

                      panther and nameless beast

     

    And I were held like creatures fixed

    in flaming, in fiery amber.

    But I saw I saw oh many of

                      those mighty beings waver,

     

    Waver and fall, go streaking down

                      into swamp water, and the water

    hissed and steamed and bubbled and locked

                      shuddering shuddering over

     

    The fallen and soon was motionless.

                      Then that massive light

    began a-folding slowly in

                      upon itself, and I

     

    Beheld the conqueror faces and, lo,

                      they were like mind, I saw

    they were like mine and in joy and terror

                      wept, praising praising Jehovah.

     

    Oh praised my honer, harshener

                      till a sleep came over me,

    a sleep heavy as death. And when

                      I awoke at last free

     

    And purified, I rose and prayed

                      and returned after a time

    to the blazing fields, to the humbleness.

                      And bided my time.