1 10 26 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Coercion! Lines suggested on seeing the first number of "The Non-Slaveholder" (Poem) Description An account of the resource Fresh help! fresh champions in the field Of moral bravery, Truth's panoply to wear and wield 'Gainst Slavery! To stand in virtuous freedom bold, The banner with firm hand to hold, A life-time warfare to proclaim, In freedom's name, Against a system foul, inhuman, And to a bloodless battle summon! But hark! as from a bleating flock, Who fear the moral battle shock, I hear the timid cry arise, Of those who mark, with mournful eyes, Truth nailed against the cross by Hate, And, with vague fear of unseen bait, Afriad where ghosts are none, Or seeking worldly loss to shun. Follow afar, with conscience stricken, That Truth, believed, and yet forsaken. Truth's lovers, struck with pallid terror, Join the Ephesian shout of Error, And cry "COERCION!" Evil is odious in their sight, And yet they dread the moral fight,  Some spectre rises to affright And check exertion. Backward they look with reverent gaze On a conquests won in former days, Past triumphs win their ready praise, As "MORAL SUASION!" Their valiant fathers battled well -- Proudly their sons their virtues tell On each occasion. And, oh, had Satan kindly lain, Prostrate and slain, When those good fathers struck the blow As ye strike now, Who could have blamed the fatal thrust, Coercing him to lie in dust, Or feared, (their faith excused from trial, Temptation having taken wing,) To use luxurious self-denial Separate from the unclean thing. Yet list ye to that chorus cry! With ready ear its meaning try! Subject the word to test discreet, As with the mouth ye taste of meat! It stands you much in stead to ken The temper of the assilants' blade, The one they ever brandish, when  Fresh movements for the truth are made! To me, I ween, that cry has grown And old familiar tedious tone, Still ringing, dinging in my ears, Since first I grew to manhood's years, I've known it raised, with craven terror, At every new attack of Error-- And not without this deafening roar, Was gained one inch in righteous war. When chaste and lovely Temperance, first Her "few and feeble" champioins mustered. The sages, at the bottle nursed, Struck with dismay, were sadly flustered,  To the pure love of Truth a stranger, Each saw his gainful craft in danger, And, lacking argument for Evil, Yet bent at moral Truth to cavil, In hope of gain - in pure perversion, They raised this bug-bear shout, "COERCION!" And silly Echo caught the cry, Nor suffers yet the sound to die, Filling with the re-echoing sound, Craniums where brains not much abound,  And hollow hearts where sordid pelf, Or that corroding canker, Self, Upon the vital fluid preys, And every generous impulse stays. Since then I've marked, on each occasion, That called for fearless Moral Suasion, In every stage of every fight Where Error was assailed by Right, COERCION was the favorite shout Employed to put the Truth to rout, And lingering sometimes on the tongue Of truthful ones who loathed the wrong, Good men and true in pure mistake As argument the word would speak. And Truth would always kindly bear The attacked which most obstruc [?] When hearts mistaken, yet sincere, The many join in blind applause, Of plausible insidious Error, And view her forim with honest terror! A. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource A. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Non-Slaveholder, reprinted from the American Citizen 2:12, pp. 287-8 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 12.1847 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource EPISTLE TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. On the Rejection of the bill for abolishing THE SLAVE TRADE Description An account of the resource In our research for papers issued in the slave's behalf, following the parliamentary vote, in 1791, which negatived a motion to abolish the slave trade, we met with the following very beautiful poem by one of England's most gifted daughters. Some elegant selections from her writing are given in Frost's British Poets; but this does not appear among them, nor do we believe it can be found in any other American volume. We suppose that to most of our readers it will be as new and acceptable as t was to us.--E[?]s. EPISTLE TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. On the Rejection of the bill for abolishing THE SLAVE TRADE BY ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD (London, J. Johnson, M.DCC.XCI.) Cease, Wilberforce, to urge thy generous aim! Thy Country knows the sin, and stands the shame! The Preacher, Poet, Senator in vain Has rattled in her sigh the Negro's chain; With his deep groans assailed her startled ear, And rent the veil that hid his constant tear; Forc'd her averted eyes his stripes to scan. Beneath the bloody scourge laid bare the man, Claim'd Pity's tear, urg'd Conscience's strong controul, And flash'd conviction on her shrinking soul. The Muse, too, soon awak'd, with ready tongue At Mercy's shrine applausive peans rung; And Freedom's eager sons, in vain foretold A new Astrean reign, an age of gold: She knows and she persists--Still Afric bleeds; Uncheck'd, the human traffic still proceeds; She stamps her infamy to future time, And on her harden'd forehead seals the crime. In vain, to thy white standard gathering round, Wit, Worth, and Parts and Eloquence are found; In vain, to push to birth thy great design, Contending chiefs, and hostile virtues join; All, from conflicting ranks, of power possest To rouse, to melt, or to inform the breast. Where seasoned tools of Avarice prevail, A Nation's eloquence, combined, must fail: Each flimsy sophistry by turns they try; The plausive argument, the daring lie, The artful gloss, that moral sense confounds, Th'acknowledged thirst of gain that honours wounds: Bane of ingenuous minds, th'unfeeling sneer Which, sudden, turns to stone the falling tear: Thy search assiduous, with inverted skill, For forms of wrong, and precdents of ill; With impious mockery wrest the sacred page, And glean up crimes from each remoter age: Wrung Nature's tortures, shuddering, while you tell, From scoffing fiends bursts forth the laugh of hell; In Britain's senate, Misery's pangs give birth To justs unseemly, and to horrid mirth-- Forebear!--thy virtues but provoke our doom, And swell th'account of vengeance yet to come; For, not unmark'd in Heaven's impartial plan, Shall man, proud wo[?]m, contemn his fellow-man? And injured Afric, by herself redrest,  Darts her own serpents at her Tyrant's breast. Each vice, to minds deprav'd by bondage known, With sure contagion fastens on his own; In sickly languors melts his nerveless frame, And blows to rage impetuous Passion's flame: Fermentng swift, the fiery venom gains The milky innocence of infant veins; There swells the stubborn will, damps learning's fire, The whirlwind wakes of uncontroul'd desire, Sears the young heart to images of woe, And blasts the buds of Virtue as they blow. Lo! where reclin'd, pale Beauty courts the breeze Diffus'd on sofas of voluptuous ease; With anxious awe, her menial train around, Catch her faint whispers of half-utter'd sound; See her, in monstrous fellowship, unite At once the Scythian, and the Sybarite; Blending repugnant vices, misally'd, Which frugul nature purpos'd to divide; See her, with indolence to fierceness join'd, Of body delicate, infirm of mind, With languid tones imperious mandates urge; With arm recumbent wield the household scourge, And with unruffled mien, and placid sounds, Contriving torture, and inflicting wounds. Nor, in their palmy walks and spicy groves, The form benign of rural Pleasure roves; No milk-maids' song, or hum of village talk, Sooths the lone Poet in his evening walk: No willing arm the flail unwearied plies, Where the mix'd sounds of cheerful labour rise; No blooming maids, and frolic swains are seen To pay gay homage to their harvest queen: No heart-expanding scenes their eyes must prove Of thriving industry, and faithful love: But shrieks and yells disturb the balmy air, Dumb sullen looks of woe announce despair, And angry eyes thro' dusky features glare. Far from the sounding lash the Muses fly, And sensual riot drowns each finer joy. Nor less from the gay East, on essenc'd wings, Breathing unnam'd perfumes, Contagion springs; The soft luxurious plague alike pervades The marble palaces, and rural shades; Hence, throng'd Augusta builds her rosy bowers, And decks in summer wreaths her smoky towers; And hence, in summer bow'rs, Art's costly hand Pours courtly splendours o'er the dazzled land: The manners melt--One undistinguish'd blaze O'erwhelms the sober pomp of elder days; Corruption follows with gigantic stride, And scarce vouchsafes his shameless front to hide: The spreading leprosy taints ev'ry part, Infects each limb, and sickens at the heart. Simplicity! most dear of rural maids, Weeping resigns her violated shades; Stern Independence from his glebe retires, And anxious Freedom eyes her drooping fires; By foreign wealth are British morals chang'd, And Afric's sons, and India's, smile aveng'd. For you, whose temper'd ardour long has borne Untir'd the labour, and unmov'd the scorn; In Virtue's fasti be inscrib'd your fame, And utter'd your's with Howard's honour'd name, Friends of the friendless--Hail, ye generous band! Whose efforts yet arrest Heaven's lifted hand, Around whose steady brows, in union bright, The civic wreath, and Christian's palm unite: Your merit stands, no greater and no less, Without, or with the varnish of success; But seek no more to break a Nation's fall, For ye have sav'd yourselves--and that is all. Succeeding times your struggles, and their fate, With mingled shame and triumph shall relate, While faithful History, in her various page, Marking the features of this motley age, To shed a glory, and to fix a stain, Tells how you strove, and that you strove in vain. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anna Letitia Barbauld Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Non-Slaveholder 2:7, pp. 167-168 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 7.1.1847 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Gentle Words (Poem) Description An account of the resource We like the following, by C.D. STEWART. Such poems, we believe, exert a beneficial influence. "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold on beds of silver." A young rose in the summer time Is beautiful to me, And glorious the many stars That glimmer on the sea; But gentle words, and loving hearts, And hands to clasp my own, Are better than the brightest flowers, Or stars that ever shone! The sun may warm the grass to life, The dew the drooping flower, And eyes grow bright and watch the light Of autumn's opening hour-- But words that breathe of tenderness, And smiles we know are true, Are warmer than the summer time, And brighter than the dew. It is not much the world can give, With all its subtle art, And gold or gems are not the things To satisfy the heart. But O, if those who cluster round The altar and the hearth, Have gentle words and loving smiles, How beautiful is earth! Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource C.D. Stewart Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Non-Slaveholder 2:1, p. 23 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1.1.1847 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Oh Press Me Not To Taste Again (Poem) Description An account of the resource Oh press me not to taste again Of those luxurious banquet sweets! Or hide from view the dark red stain, That still my shuddering vision meets. Away! 't is loathsome! bear me hence! I cannot feed on human sighs, Or feast with sweets my palate's sense, While blood is ‘neath the fair disguise. No, never let me taste again Of aught beside the coarsest fare, Far rather, than my conscience stain, With the polluted luxuries there. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character, the Genius of Universal Emancipation, the Liberator, Juvenile Poems for the Use of Free American Children of Every Complexion Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource To Those I love (Poem) Description An account of the resource Oh, turn ye not displeased away, though I should sometimes seem Too much to press upon your ear, an oft- repeated theme ; The story of the negro's wrongs is heavy at my heart. And can I choose but wish from you a sympathizing part ? I turn to you to share my joy, — to soothe me in my grief — In wayward sadness from your. smiles, I seek a sweet relief: And shall I keep this burning wish to see the slave set free, Lock'd darkly in my secret heart, unshared and silently? I cannot know that all the chords, which give their magic tone Like Memnon's harp, in music out, 'neath sunshine smiles alone. Are torn by savage hands away from woman's bleeding breast. And with their sweetness on my soul, my feelings keep repress'd! If I had been a friendless thing — if I had never known. How swell the fountains of the heart beneath affection's tone, I might have, careless, seen the leaf torn rudely from its stem, But clinging as I do to you, can I but feel for them ? I could not brook to list the sad sweet music of a bird. Though it were sweeter melody than ever ear hath heard, If cruel hands had quench'd its light, that in the plaintive song. It might the breathing memory of other days prolong. And can I give my lip to taste the life-bought luxuries, wrung From those on whom a darker night of anguish has been flung — Or silently and selfishly enjoy my better lot. While those whom God hath bade me love, are wretched and forgot ? Oh no ! — so blame me not, sweet friends, though I should some- times seem Too much to press upon your ear an oft-repeated theme ; The story of the negro's wrongs hath won me from my rest, — And I must strive to wake for him an interest in your breast ! Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 https://productsoffreelabor.com/files/original/60d4614f97f6853212c8c6fde4c224e3.jpeg a07ff7dbd74a912558adedbcb4fbf27e Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sugar-Plums. (Poem) Description An account of the resource No, no, pretty sugar-plums ! stay where you are! Though my grandmother sent you to me from so far ; You look very nice, you would taste very sweet. And I love you right well, yet not one will I eat. For the poor slaves have labour'd, far down in the south, To make you so sweet and so nice for my mouth ; But I want no slaves toiling for me in the sun. Driven on with the whip, till the long day is done. Perhaps some poor slave child, that hoed up the ground. Round the cane in whose rich juice your sweetness was found, Was flogg'd, till his mother cried sadly to see, And I 'm sure I want nobody beaten for me. So grandma, I thank you for being so kind. But your present, to-day, is not much to my mind ; Though I love you so dearly, I choose not to eat Even what you have sent me by slavery made sweet. Thus said little Fanny, and skipp'd off to play. Leaving all her nice sugar-plums just where they lay. As merry as if they had gone in her mouth. And she had not cared for the slaves of the south. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character The Genius of Universal Emancipation The Liberator The Slave's Friend Juvenile Poems for the Use of Free American Children of Every Complexion Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Christmas (Poem) Description An account of the resource Mother, when christmas comes once more, I do not wish that you Should buy sweet things for me again, As you were used to do : The taste of cakes and sugar-plums Is pleasant to me yet, And temptingly the gay shops look, With their fresh stores outset* But I have learn'd, dear mother. That the poor and wretched slave Must toil to win their sweetness. From the cradle to the grave. And when he faints with weariness Beneath the torrid sun. The keen lash urges on his toil. Until the day is done. But when the holy angels' hymn, On Judea's plains afar, Peal'd sweetly on the shepherds' ear, 'Neath Bethlehem's wondrous star, They sung of glory to our God, — "Peace and good will to men," — For Christ, the Saviour of the world, Was born amidst them then. And is it for His glory, men Are made to toil, With weary limbs and breaking hearts, Upon another's soil? That they are taught not of his law, To know his holy will, And that He hates the deed of sin, And loves the righteous still ? And is it peace and love to men, To bind them with the chain, And sell them like the beasts that feed Upon the grassy plain ? To tear their flesh with scourgings rude, And from the aching heart. The ties to which it fondliest clings, For evermore to part ? And 'tis because of all this sin, my mother, That I shun To taste the tempting sweets for which Such wickedness is done. If men to men will be unjust, if slavery must be. Mother, the chain must not be worn ; the scourge be plied for me. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character, the Genius of Universal Emancipation, the Liberator Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 https://productsoffreelabor.com/files/original/75f0011d7f85256ffa9ad512580642be.jpeg c50918a7bfa535786ea424ef6dc3afc1 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Slave Produce (Poem) Description An account of the resource Eat ! they are cates for a lady's lip. Rich as the sweets that the wild bees sip ; Mingled viands that nature hath pour'd. From the plenteous stores of her flowing board, Bearing no trace of man's cruelty — save The red life-drops of his human slave. List thee, lady ! and turn aside. With a loathing heart, from the feast of pride ; For, mix'd with the pleasant sweets it bears, Is the hidden curse of scalding tears. Wrung out from woman's bloodshot eye, By the depth of her deadly agony. Look ! they are robes from a foreign loom, Delicate, light, as the rose leaf's bloom ; Stainless and pure in their snowy tint, As the drift unmarked by a footstep's print. Surely such garment should fitting be. For woman's softness and purity. Yet fling them off from thy shrinking limb. For sighs have render'd their brightness dim ; And many a mother's shriek and groan, And many a daughter's burning moan, And many a sob of wild despair. From woman's heart, is lingering there. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource To The Ladies' Free Produce Society (Poem) Description An account of the resource These lines were addressed to the Ladies' *' Free Produce Society, of Philadelphia," a short time previous to one of its stated meetings, after the author had removed from the city. Your gathering day ! and I am not, As erst, amid you set ; But even from this distant spot, My thoughts are with you yet. As freshly as in hours forgot, When I was with you met. His blessing on your high career ! Go, press unwearied on. From month to month, from year to year, Till when your task is done. The franchised negro's grateful tear Proclaims your victory won. Oh faint you not, ye gathered band ! Although your way be long, And they who ranged against you stand, Are numberless and strong ; While you but bear a feeble hand, Unused to cope with wrong. Upon your injured brother look. And nerve ye with the sight ! Could you the good, the gentle, brook To wear your days in light. Regardless that by sorrow struck, He pines in rayless night ? Oh surely 'tis a blessed fate, A lot like that ye bear — To bid the crush'd and desolate. Not yield them to despair. For even amidst their low estate. Some hearts their sufferings share. And never your high task forget, Till they are chainless — free ! Alas ! that ye should be so met, And I not with you be ; Yet sometimes when you thus are set, One heart may turn to me. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The poetical works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler: with a memoir of her life and character Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Lemuel Howell Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1836 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource John Woolman (Poem) Description An account of the resource Meek, humble, sinless as a very child, Such wert thou,--and, though unbeheld, I seem Oft-times to gaze upon they features mild, Thy grave, yet gentle lip, and the soft beam Of that kind eye, that knew not how to shed A glance of aught save love, on any human head. Servant of Jesus! Christian! not alone In name and creed, with practice differing wide, Thou didst not in thy conduct fear to own His self denying precepts for thy guide. Stern only to thyself, all others felt Thy strong rebuke was love, not meant to crush, but melt. Thou, who didst pour o'er all the human kind Thy gushing fervour of thy sympathy! E'en the unreasoning brute, fail'd not to find A pleader for his happiness in thee. Thy heart was moved for every breathing thing, By careless man exposed to needless suffering. But most the wrongs and sufferings of the slave, Stirr'd the deep fountain of thy pitying heart; And still thy hand was stretched to aid and save, Until it seem'd that thou hadst taken a part In their existence, and couldst hold no more A separate life from them, as thou hadst done before. How the sweet pathos of thy eloquence, Beautiful in its simplicity, went forth Entreating for them! that this vile offence, So unbeseeming of our country's worth, Might be removed before the threatening cloud, Thou saw'st o'erhanging it, should burst in storm and blood. So may thy name be reverence,--thou wert one Of those whose virtues link us to our kind, By our best sympathies; thy day is done, But its sweet twilight lingers still behind, In thy pure memory; and we bless thee yet, For the example fair thou hast before us set. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Elizabeth Margaret Chandler Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Non-Slaveholder 2:3, p. 72 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1.3.1847