Poems on the Slave Trade - Sonnet 3 - Robert Southey

Album cover art for "Poems on the Slave Trade - Sonnet 3 - Robert Southey" by Richard Mitchley

Richard Mitchley - Pop

Poems on the Slave Trade - Sonnet 3 - Robert Southey

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Lyrics

Oh he is worn with toil! the big drops run Down his dark cheek; hold—hold thy merciless hand Pale tyrant! for beneath thy hard command O'erwearied Nature sinks. The scorching Sun As pityless as proud Prosperity Darts on him his full beams; gasping he lies Arraigning with his looks the patient skies While that inhuman trader lifts on high The mangling scourge. Oh ye who at your ease Sip the blood-sweeten'd beverage! thoughts like these Haply ye scorn: I thank thee Gracious God That I do feel upon my cheek the glow Of indignation, when beneath the rod A sable brothеr writhes in silent woe

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Credits

Writers
  • Robert Southey