Date: 1786

"Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt / O'er ills that poor humanity must bear; / Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt / To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1786

"Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, / And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1787-1818

"The countless gold of a merry heart / The rubies & pearls of a loving eye / The indolent never can bring to the mart / Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury"

— Blake, William (1757-1827)

Date: w. 1787-1818

"You say reserve & modesty he has / Whose heart is iron his head wood & his face brass."

— Blake, William (1757-1827)

Date: 1788

"The hollow winds of Night, no more / In wild, unequal cadence pour / On musing Fancy's wakeful ear, / The groan of agony severe / From yon dark vessel, which contains / The wretch new bound in hopeless chains; / Whose soul with keener anguish bleeds, / As AFRIC's less'ning shore recedes."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"'Tis ever Nature's gen'rous view; / Great minds should noble ends pursue; / As the clear sun-beam, when most bright, / Warms, in proportion to its light."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"For Virtue, with divine controul, / Collects the various powers of soul; / And lends, from her unsullied source, / The gems of thought their purest force."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

Slavery "speculates with skill refin'd, / How deep a wound will stab the mind; / How far the spirit can endure / Calamity, that hopes no cure."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"Ye! who can selfish cares forego, / To pity those which others know; / As Light, that from its centre strays, / To glad all Nature with its rays; / Oh! ease the pangs ye stoop to share, / And rescue millions from despair!"

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"Of home! dear scene, whose ties can bind / With sacred force the human mind / That feels each little absence pain, / And lives but to return again / To that lov'd spot, however far, / Points, like the needle to its star; / That native shed which first we knew, / Where first the sweet affections ...

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)