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THE BLACK MAN'S LAMENT.

Five months, we, every week, alas!
Save when we eat, to work are driven:
Six days, three nights; then, to each class,
Just twenty hours of rest are given.

But when the Sabbath-eve comes round,
That eve which White men sacred keep,
Again we at our toil are found,
And six days more we work and weep.

"But, Negro slave, some men must toil.
The English peasant works all day;
Turns up, and sows, and ploughs the soil.
Thou wouldst not, sure, have Negroes play?"

"Ah! no. But Englishmen can work
Whene'er they like, and stop for breath;
No driver dares, like any Turk,
Flog peasants on almost to death.