'Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep <br /> As undisturb'd as Justice! but no more <br /> The wretched Slave, as on his native shore, <br />Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep! <br />Tho' thro' the toil and anguish of the day <br /> No tear escap'd him, not one suffering groan <br /> Beneath the twisted thong, he weeps alone <br />In bitterness; thinking that far away <br />Tho' the gay negroes join the midnight song, <br /> Tho' merriment resounds on Niger's shore, <br />She whom he loves far from the chearful throng <br /> Stands sad, and gazes from her lowly door <br />With dim grown eye, silent and woe-begone, <br /> And weeps for him who will return no more.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poems-on-the-slave-trade-sonnet-iv/
