Born in 1797, and called the "Black Bard of North Carolina",
poet & author, George Moses Horton was an entrepreneur as much as he was a writer. Although enslaved, he earned enough money selling his writings to buy his freedom, but his "owner" would not allow it. Horton was too valuable an employee to the plantation owner to be set free, a situation that was not uncommon.
Horton left no doubt, however, about his feelings towards slavery. Here is
an example.
The Slave's Complaint (Mid 1800's)
Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride,
Forever?
Must I dwell in slavery's night,
And all pleasure take it's flight,
Far beyond my feeble sight,
Forever?
Worst of all, must hope grow dim,
And withhold her cheering beam?
Rather than let me sleep and dream,
Forever?
Something still my heart surveys,
Grouping through this dreary maze,
Is it hope? Then burn and blaze,
Forever?
Leave me not a wretch confined,
Altogether lame and blind--
Unto gross despair consigned,
Forever!
Heaven! In whom can I confide?
Canst thou not for all provide?
Condescend to be my guide,
Forever
And when this transient life shall end,
Oh, may some kind of eternal friend
Bid me from servitude ascend,
Forever!
Horton escaped to the north, and was finally freed by the Emancipation in 1865.
poet & author, George Moses Horton was an entrepreneur as much as he was a writer. Although enslaved, he earned enough money selling his writings to buy his freedom, but his "owner" would not allow it. Horton was too valuable an employee to the plantation owner to be set free, a situation that was not uncommon.
Horton left no doubt, however, about his feelings towards slavery. Here is
an example.
The Slave's Complaint (Mid 1800's)
Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride,
Forever?
Must I dwell in slavery's night,
And all pleasure take it's flight,
Far beyond my feeble sight,
Forever?
Worst of all, must hope grow dim,
And withhold her cheering beam?
Rather than let me sleep and dream,
Forever?
Something still my heart surveys,
Grouping through this dreary maze,
Is it hope? Then burn and blaze,
Forever?
Leave me not a wretch confined,
Altogether lame and blind--
Unto gross despair consigned,
Forever!
Heaven! In whom can I confide?
Canst thou not for all provide?
Condescend to be my guide,
Forever
And when this transient life shall end,
Oh, may some kind of eternal friend
Bid me from servitude ascend,
Forever!
Horton escaped to the north, and was finally freed by the Emancipation in 1865.
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