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Though warm with Hfe the heaving surges glow, Where'er the winds of heaven were wont to blow. In sevenfold phalanx shall the rallying hosts Of ocean-slumberers join their wandering ghosts, Along the melancholy gulph, that roars From Guinea to the Charibbean shores. Myriads of slaves, that perish'd on the way. From age to age the shark's appointed prey, By livid plagues, by lingering tortures slain. Or headlong plunged alive into the main,^ Shall rise in judgment from their gloomy beds, And call down vengeance on their murderers' heads.
Yet small the number, and the fortune blest. Of those who on the stormy deep found rest, Weigh'd with the unremember'd millions more. That 'scaped the sea, to perish on the shore, By the slow pangs of solitary care, The earth-devouring anguish of despah*,^
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