The Slave's Complaint

Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride

For ever?

Must I dwell in Slavery's night,
And all pleasure take its flight,
Far beyond my feeble sight,

For ever?

Worst of all, must Hope grow dim,
And withhold her cheering beam?
Rather let me sleep and dream

For ever!

Something still my heart surveys,
Groping through this dreary maze;
Is it Hope?—then burn and blaze

For ever!

Leave me not a wretch confined,
Altogether lame and blind—
Unto gross despair consigned,

For ever!

Heaven! in whom can I confide?
Canst thou not for all provide?
Condescend to be my guide

For ever:

And when this transient life shall end,
Oh, may some kind, eternal friend
Bid me from servitude ascend,

For ever!