Did then the bold Slave rear at last the Sword <br /> Of Vengeance? drench'd he deep its thirsty blade <br />In the cold bosom of his tyrant lord? <br /> Oh! who shall blame him? thro' the midnight shade <br />Still o'er his tortur'd memory rush'd the thought <br /> Of every past delight; his native grove, <br /> Friendship's best joys, and Liberty and Love, <br />All lost for ever! then Remembrance wrought <br />His soul to madness; round his restless bed <br /> Freedom's pale spectre stalk'd, with a stern smile <br /> Pointing the wounds of slavery, the while <br />She shook her chains and hung her sullen head: <br />No more on Heaven he calls with fruitless breath, <br />But sweetens with revenge, the draught of death.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poems-on-the-slave-trade-sonnet-v/
