Who loves the little slave, or cares
If well or ill I be?
Is there a living soul, that shares
A thought or wish for me?

I've had no parents since my birth,
Brothers and sisters — none!
Oh! what is all this world to me
When I am only one?

I wake, and see the sun arise,
And all around me gay;
But nothing I behold is mine,
No — not the life of day!

No — not the very breath I draw,
These limbs are not my own;
A master calls me his by law ,
My griefs are mine alone.

'Tis not for wealth or ease I sigh,
But few are rich and great;
Many may be as poor as I,
But none so desolate.

But let them do the worst they can,
I may be happy still;
For I was born to be a man,
And, with God's leave, I will.