Poem by Robert Southey

* * *

High in the air exposed the slave is hung,
To all the birds of heaven, their living food!
He groans not, though awaked by that fierce sun
New torturers live to drink their parent blood;
He groans not, though the gorging vulture tear
The quivering fiber. Hither look, O ye
Who tore this man from peace and liberty!
Look hither, ye who weigh with politic care
The gain against the guilt! Beyond the grave
There is another world: bear ye in mind,
Ere your decree proclaims to all mankind
The gain is worth the guilt, that there the Slave,
Before the Eternal, "thunder-tongued shall plead
Against the deep damnation of your deed. 

1. For the Cenotaph at Ermenonville
2. St. Bartholomew’s Day
3. Stanzas Written in Lady Lonsdale’s Album, at Lowther Castle
4. For a Tablet at Silbury Hill
5. St. Michael’s Chair

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