To Toussaint L'Ouverture

Alice Meynell

1903

TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men!

Whether the all-cheering sun be free to shed

His beams around thee, or thou rest thy head

Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den-

O miserable chieftain! where and when

Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou

Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful 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.

End of title

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