Poems (Southey)/Volume 1/Sonnet 4 ('Tis Night; the mercenary tyrants sleep)
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 doorWith dim grown eye, silent and woe-begone, And weeps for him who will return no more.