Mary Anne Rawson's The Bow in the Cloud (1834): A Scholarly EditionMain MenuEditor's IntroductionEditor's IntroductionThe Published AnthologyContains all of the pieces published in the anthology, with an editor's noteSelected Unpublished PiecesTranscriptions of some unpublished pieces sent to RawsonText analysisResults of analysing the anthology and its manuscriptsNetwork AnalysisNetwork analysis prototypes, including a network graph of connections in the archiveMap of PlacenamesA map of all places associated with pieces in the anthologyPeople MentionedBow in the Cloud: PersonographyFurther ReadingsA Bibliography of sources relating to this projectThis project was supported by an NEH-Mellon Fellowship for Digital Publication in 2023/2024 (FEL-289788). Find project data on GitHub.
Bridges, Matthew
12024-09-14T16:23:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c3761611Person record for Matthew Bridgesplain2024-09-14T16:23:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c37616
O! Liberty, how fair art thou, Offspring of heaven, religion's child; The olive waves around thy brow, And roses grace thine aspect mild: Where thou art absent, ills arrive Hovering on desolation's wing; Where thou art present, joys revive, And hill and valley laugh and sing. Why weeps the captive, long and late, When looking through his iron grate On heaven, or earth, or sea? It is because the vault above, The fields, the waves, in lines of love, All say he should be free. The thought at first in hell began, That man should bind his brother-man.
Rise, England, rise -- and cast aside That stain which well may check thy pride, And bow thee in the dust; Haste to those lovely western isles, Where thou hast blasted nature's smiles, And there at last be just!
Ah ! who of us can ever know The Negroes' mournful cup of woe? Beneath their hard oppression's load, For them no milk of kindness flowed. We pressed the sweetness from the cane, And paid them bitterly in pain; -- Wipe -- wipe those untold tears away, And turn their darkness into day!
Yes -- let the shameful fetters fall From off the hands and feet of all; And may their God and ours impart A nobler freedom of the heart: Freedom from sin's accursed coil, That bond of tyranny and toil! Then shall a brighter morn arise Than yet hath graced their glorious skies: -- The tree of life its shade shall shed O'er many a sable mourner's head, With balmy leaves for healing given, And fruit for food -- the bread of heaven! Partakers of that blissful seed, The negroes shall be free indeed!