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Robert Southey - Poems On The Slave Trade - Sonnet V
Work rating: Low

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