Poems (Southey)/Volume 1/Sonnet 4 ('Tis Night; the mercenary tyrants sleep)
< Poems (Southey) | Volume 1
For works with similar titles, see Sonnet.
SONNET IV.
'Tis Night; the mercenary tyrants sleep
As undisturbed as Justice! but no more
The wretched Slave, as on his native shore,
Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep!
Tho' thro' the toil and anguish of the day
No tear escap'd him, not one suffering groan
Beneath the twisted thong, he weeps alone
In bitterness; thinking that far away
Tho' merriment resounds on Niger's shore,
She whom he loves far from the cheerful throng
Stands sad, and gazes from her lowly door
With dim grown eye, silent and woe-begone,
And weeps for him who will return no more.
As undisturbed as Justice! but no more
The wretched Slave, as on his native shore,
Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep!
Tho' thro' the toil and anguish of the day
No tear escap'd him, not one suffering groan
Beneath the twisted thong, he weeps alone
In bitterness; thinking that far away
Tho' merriment resounds on Niger's shore,
She whom he loves far from the cheerful throng
Stands sad, and gazes from her lowly door
With dim grown eye, silent and woe-begone,
And weeps for him who will return no more.