Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet III

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1. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet I Hold your mad hands! for ever on your plain Must the gorged vulture clog his beak with blood? For ever must your Nigers tainted flood Roll to the ravenous shark his banquet slain? Hold your mad hands! what daemon prompts to rear The arm of Slaughter? on your savage shore Can hell-sprung Glory claim the […]...
2. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet II Why dost thou beat thy breast and rend thine hair, And to the deaf sea pour thy frantic cries? Before the gale the laden vessel flies; The Heavens all-favoring smile, the breeze is fair; Hark to the clamors of the exulting crew! Hark how their thunders mock the patient skies! Why dost thou shriek and […]...
3. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet IV ‘Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep As undisturb’d 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 […]...
4. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet VI High in the air expos’d the Slave is hung To all the birds of Heaven, their living food! He groans not, tho’ awaked by that fierce Sun New torturers live to drink their parent blood! He groans not, tho’ the gorging Vulture tear The quivering fibre! hither gaze O ye Who tore this Man from […]...
5. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet V 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 […]...
6. Sonnet XXIX When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s […]...
7. Sonnet XXIX: When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s […]...
8. Sonnet 29: When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s […]...
9. Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decayed, And my sick Muse doth give an other place. I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He […]...
10. Sonnet LXXIX Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decay’d And my sick Muse doth give another place. I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs […]...
11. Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me There’s nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac’d Only two loop-holes then I might behold; That lovely, arched, ivory, polish’d brow Defac’d with wrinkles that I might but see; Thy dainty hair, so curl’d and […]...
12. THE SLAVE'S DREAM Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land. Wide through the landscape of his dreams The lordly Niger flowed; Beneath the palm-trees on the plain Once more […]...
13. Sonnet LXXXVIII When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am […]...
14. Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed, wherein I am […]...
15. Be Still, My Soul, Be Still Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather, call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry […]...
16. Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence […]...
17. Sonnet 29 – I think of thee!-my thoughts do twine and bud I think of thee!-my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad leaves, and soon there ‘s nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood. Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood I will not have my thoughts instead of thee Who art dearer, […]...
18. Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th’ account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, Th’ imprisoned absence of your liberty, And patience tame to sufferance, […]...
19. Sonnet 05 Hard by the road, where on that little mound The high grass rustles to the passing breeze, The child of Misery rests her head in peace. Pause there in sadness. That unhallowed ground Inshrines what once was Isabel. Sleep on Sleep on, poor Outcast! lovely was thy cheek, And thy mild eye was eloquent to […]...
20. The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point I. I stand on the mark beside the shore Of the first white pilgrim’s bended knee, Where exile turned to ancestor, And God was thanked for liberty. I have run through the night, my skin is as dark, I bend my knee down on this mark. . . I look on the sky and the […]...
21. Sonnet. Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire ‘TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold, Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow; Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow, The varying passions of the heart could hold: Those locks, too soon, shall own a silv’ry ray, Those radiant orbs their magic fires forego; Insatiate TIME shall steal those […]...
22. Hail! Childish Slave Of Social Rules HAIL! Childish slaves of social rules You had yourselves a hand in making! How I could shake your faith, ye fools, If but I thought it worth the shaking. I see, and pity you; and then Go, casting off the idle pity, In search of better, braver men, My own way freely through the city. […]...
23. Hold your mad hands Hold your mad hands! for ever on your plain Must the gorged vulture clog his beak with blood? For ever must your Niger’s tainted flood, Roll to the ravenous shark his banquet slain? Hold your mad hands! and learn at length to know, And turn your vengeance on the common foe, Yon treacherous vessel and […]...
24. Sonnets ii WHEN, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possest, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s […]...
25. Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this book? Who heard thee singing in the distance dim, The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood, When the damp freshness of the morning earth Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song? Who followed over moss and twisted […]...
26. Where is the Slave Oh, where’s the slave so lowly, Condemn’d to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay’d it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it? Farewell, Erin, farewell, all, […]...
27. Sonnet CXXXVI If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy ‘Will,’ And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. ‘Will’ will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In […]...
28. The Galley-Slave Oh gallant was our galley from her caren steering-wheel To her figurehead of silver and her beak of hammered steel; The leg-bar chafed the ankle and we gasped for cooler air, But no galley on the waters with our galley could compare! Our bulkheads bulged with cotton and our masts were stepped in gold We […]...
29. Sonnet 05 – I lift my heavy heart up solemnly I lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As once Electra her sepulchral urn, And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see What a great heap of grief lay hid in me, And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn […]...
30. Sonnet 136: If thy soul check thee that I come so near If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, And will thy soul knows is admitted there; Thus far for love, my love suit, sweet, fulfil. Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. […]...
31. To Mr. Vaughan, Silurist on His Poems Had I ador’d the multitude, and thence Got an antipathy to wit and sence, And hug’d that fate, in hope the world would grant ‘Twas good affection to be ignorant; Yet the least ray of thy bright fancy seen I had converted, or excuseless been: For each birth of thy muse to after-times Shall expatiate […]...
32. Sonnet – To Zante Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How many scenes of what departed bliss! How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! How many visions of a maiden that is […]...
33. Sonnet XXXIX O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is ‘t but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, […]...
34. Sonnet III: With how sad steps With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What! may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case: I read it in thy looks; thy […]...
35. Sonnet XXXI: With How Sad Steps, O Moon With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heav’nly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case, I read it in thy looks; […]...
36. The Token Send me some token, that my hope may live, Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest; Send me some honey to make sweet my hive, That in my passions I may hope the best. I beg no riband wrought with thine own hands, To knit our loves in the fantastic strain Of new-touched […]...
37. To Stella, Who Collected and Transcribed His Poems As, when a lofty pile is raised, We never hear the workmen praised, Who bring the lime, or place the stones; But all admire Inigo Jones: So, if this pile of scattered rhymes Should be approved in aftertimes; If it both pleases and endures, The merit and the praise are yours. Thou, Stella, wert no […]...
38. Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is’t but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That […]...
39. Sonnet CI O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say ‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d; Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; But […]...
40. Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...