A Warning

The chain, the scourge, the slave's unutter'd wo,
     These shall not be for ever: From the prison, 
     A deep and solemn murmur hath arisen,—
The stifled utterance of hearts that glow 
With wrath unquenchable. We little know 
     What hour the smothered vengeance will awake,
     And on our heads its hurtled volleys break.
Yet come it may: the trodden down may throw, 
     With one wild burst, the gather'd wrong which rests—
     A mountain weight-upon their heaving breasts,
In terror off, even as the ice-bound deep, 
When, tempest-lashed, the howling billows sweep,
     Rends the strong fetters from its angry waves, 
     And round the trembling coast tumultuously raves.