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IntroductionThe Published AnthologyContains all of the pieces published in the anthology, with an editor's noteSelected Unpublished PiecesTranscriptions of some unpublished pieces sent to RawsonText analysisResults of analysing the anthology and its manuscriptsNetwork AnalysisNetwork analysis prototypes, including a network graph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.
Clarkson's The History of the Abolition of the African Slave-Trade
12023-08-01T11:12:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c3761611Note on The History of the Abolition of the African Slave-Tradeplain2023-08-01T11:12:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c37616Thomas Clarkson's The History of the Abolition of the African Slave-Trade is a two-volume history of the first wave of efforts to abolish the slave trade in Great Britain. Full texts can be accessed at the Liberty Fund text archive.
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12023-08-01T11:12:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c37616Clarkson, ThomasChristopher Ohge1Pieces that allude to Thomas Clarksonplain2023-08-01T11:12:19+00:00Christopher Ohge67a4fbaba4797c94aa865988788fca89b5c37616
"Coming in sight of Wades-Mill, in Hertfordshire, I sat down disconsolate on the turf by the road-side, and held my horse. Here a thought came into my mind, that if the contents of the Essay were true, it was time some person should see these calamities to their end. Agitated in this manner, I reached home. This was in the summer of 1785."
Clarkson's History of the Abolition, Vol. I. p. 210.
A wanderer by the road-way side, Where leafy tall trees grow, Casting their branching shadows wide, Sits on the turf below.
Though rich the landscape, hill, and plain, Before him there out-spread ; One hand holds fast his bridle-rein, One props his thoughtful head.
The flush of youth is on his brow, Its fire is in his eye; And yet the first is pensive now, The latter nought can spy.
Does proud Ambition's fitful gleam Light up his soul within? Or fond Affection's gentler dream Prompt him Love's bliss to win?
These are forgotten, or unknown : For, o'er the Atlantic main, His ear has caught the captive's groan, Has heard his clanking chain.
Nor less from Afric's land afar, Borne by the billowy waves, The hideous din of sordid War, The shrieks of kidnapped slaves.
The iron of that galling yoke Has entered in his soul! How shall Power's tyrant spell be broke? The sick at heart made whole?
Who, e'en on Albion's far-famed Isle, Where Freedom gives her laws, Nobly forgetting self the while, Shall live but for her cause?
Who, the Apostle of her Creed, Shall journey to and fro, Her universal rights to plead, And Slavery overthrow?
"Thou art the man!" the Prophet cried; The awe-struck Monarch heard; And, while his heart with anguish sighed, Compunction's depths were stirred.
As clear, as vivid the appeal To Freedom's Champion given: And God himself hath set his seal, The message was from Heaven!