"The gallant Chief within his cabin slept, Secure in those by whom the watch was kept: His dreams were of old England’s welcome shore, Of toils rewarded, and of danger o’er; ... The worst was over, and the rest seemed sure, And why should not his slumber be secure? Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet, And wilder hands would hold the vessel’s sheet; Young hearts, which languished for some sunny isle, Where summer years and summer women smile; Men without country, who, too long estranged, Had found no native home, or found it changed, And, half uncivilised, preferred the cave Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave –"