Mention744892
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so:text | On the same sod, where The plumed Indian, pin’d his life away, Enslav’d, degraded, doom’d to vile employ, Deploring still the rifled hive of joy, There the poor Negro, shackled with the chain, Rears, by his sweltering toil, the nectar’d cane; And, wretched exile from his brighter skies, Breathes o’er the native’s grave complaining sighs, Unconscious on what dust he treads, nor knows Whose place he takes, whose heritage of woes. (en) |
so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Benger |
so:description | The Abolition of the Slave Trade (1810) (en) |
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Triples where Mention744892 is the object (without rdf:type)
qkg:Quotation706424 | qkg:hasMention |
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