And curse the added day that swells their woe.
Wet with foul damps, behold, the sad array
Disclose their misery to th' unpitying day.
What deep dejection presses yonder face?
Grief's dusky shade, and sad Reflection's trace.
His fellow—see—from orbs of blood-shot ire,
On his pale tyrants dart th' indignant fire!
Striving with feeble force to press the grate,
Yon struggling suff'rer heaves a pond'rous weight.
Stripes from the sounding lash, fierce drawn, succeed,