Page:Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922).djvu/754

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716
SLAVERY
SLEEP
1

[England] a soil whose air is deemed too pure for slaves to breathe in.
Lofft—Reports. P. 2. Margrave's Argument. May 14, 1772.
 | seealso = (See also {{sc|Campbell)


They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;

  • * * *

They are slaves who dare not be
In the right with two or three.
 | author = Lowell
 | work = Stanzas on Freedom.
 | note =
 | topic =
 | page = 716
}}

{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>The air of England has long been too pure for a slave, and every man is free who breathes it.
Lord Mansfield. Said in the case of a negro, James Somersett, carried from Africa to Jamaica and sold.
 | seealso = (See also {{sc|Campbell)


Execrable son! so to aspire
Above his brethren, to himself assuming
Authority usurp'd, from God not given.
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl.
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
By his donation; but man over men
He made not lord; such title to himself
Reserving, human left from human free.
 | author = Milton
 | work = Paradise Lost.
 | place = Bk. XII. L. 64.

.


Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
Moore—To the Lord Viscount Forbes. Written from the City of Washington.


And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its
waves.
Robert Paine—Ode. Adams and Liberty.
(1798)
 | topic =
 | page = 716
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{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = Base is the slave that pays.
 | author =
 | work = Henry V.
 | place = Act II. Sc. 1. L. 100.
 | note =
 | topic =
 | page = 716
}}

{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>You have among you many a purchas'd slave,
Which, like your asses and yeur dogs and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish parts.
Because you bought them.
Merchant of Venice. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 90.


Englishmen never will be slaves; they are free
to do whatever the Government and public
opinion allow them to do.
Bernard Shaw—Man and Superman.


Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still.
Slavery! said I—still thou art a bitter draught.
Sterne—Sentimental Journey. The Passport.
The Hotel at Paris.


By the Law of Slavery, man, created in the
image of God, is divested of the human character, and declared to be a mere chattel.
Chas. Sumner—The Anti-Slavery Enterprise.
Address at New York. May 9, 1859.


Where Slavery is there Liberty cannot be; and
where Liberty is there Slavery cannot be.
Chas. Sumner—Slavery and the Rebellion.
Speech before the New York Young Men's
Republican Union. Nov. 5, 1864.
They [the blacks] had no rights which the ,
white man was bound to respect.
Roger B. Taney—The Dred Scot Case. See
Howard's Rep. VoLXLX. P. 407.


Slavery is also as ancient as war, and war as
human nature.
Voltaire—Philosophical Dictionary. Slaves.


I never mean, unless some particular circumstances should compel me to do it, to possess
another slave by purchase, it being among my
first wishes to see some plan adopted by which
slavery in this country may be abolished by law.
George Washington—Farewell Address.


That execrable sum of all villanies commonly
called the Slave-trade.
John Wesley—Journal. Feb. 12, 1792.
 A Christian! going, gone!
Who bids for God's own image?—for his grace,
Which that poor victim of the market-place
Hath in her suffering won?
Whittier—Voices of Freedom. The Christian
Slave.


Our fellow-countrymen in chains!
Slaves—in a land of light and law!
Slaves—crouching on the very plains
Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war!
WHrrnER—Voices of Freedom. Stanzas.


What! mothers from their children riven!
What! God's own image bought and sold!
Americans to market driven.
And bartered as the brute for gold!
Whither—Voices of Freedom. Stanzas.
SLEEP
 
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?
Nature, oppress'd and harrass'd out with care,
Sinks down to rest.
 | author = Addison
 | work = Cato. Act V. Sc. 1.
 What probing deep
Has ever solved the mystery of sleep?
T. B. Aldrich—Human Ignorance.


But I, in the chilling twilight stand and wait
At the portcullis, at thy castle gate,
Longing to see the charmed door of dreams
Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate sleep!
T. B. Aldrich—Invocation to Sleep.


Come to me now! O, come! benignest sleep!
And fold me up, as evening doth a flower,
From my vain self, and vain things which have
power
Upon my soul to make me smile or weep.
And when thou comest, oh, like Death be deep.
Patrick Proctor Alexander—Sleep. Appeared in the Spectator.
 How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not in vain
Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams.