Literature Network » William Wordsworth » Poems in Two Volumes, Volume 1 » VIII - To Toussaint L'Ouverture

VIII - To Toussaint L'Ouverture

  Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men!
  Whether the rural Milk-maid by her Cow
  Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now
  Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den,
  O miserable chieftain! where and when
  Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou
  Wear rather in thy bonds a chearful brow:
  Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again,
  Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
  Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
  There's not a breathing of the common wind
  That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
  Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
  And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

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