On the 25th of March 1807, the Royal assent was given to the Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade. The movement for its abolition was begun by Wilberforce, and carried on by Clarkson. Its abolition was voted by the House of Lords on the motion of Lord Grenville, and by the Commons on the motion of Charles James Fox, on the 10th of June 1806. The bill was read a second time in the Lords on the 5th of February, and became law on the 25th of March 1807. VARIANTS: [1] 1837. ... this pilgrimage ... 1807. [2] 1837. With unabating effort, see, ... 1807. [3] 1837. The bloody Writing is for ever torn, And Thou henceforth shalt have ... 1807. THE MOTHER'S RETURN BY MY SISTER Composed 1807.--Published 1815 [Written at Town-end, Grasmere.--I. F.] One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood."--ED. A month, sweet Little-ones, is past Since your dear Mother went away,-- And she to-morrow will return; To-morrow is the happy day. O blessed tidings! thought of joy! 5 The eldest heard with steady glee; Silent he stood; then laughed amain,-- And shouted, "Mother, come to me!" Louder and louder did he shout, With witless hope to bring her near; 10 "Nay, patience! patience, little boy! Your tender mother cannot hear." I told of hills, and far-off towns, And long, long vales to travel through;-- He listens, puzzled, sore perplexed, 15 But he submits; what can he do? No strife disturbs his sister's breast; She wars not with the mystery Of time and distance, night and day; The bonds of our humanity. 20 Her joy is like an instinct, joy Of kitten, bird, or summer fly; She dances, runs without an aim, She chatters in her ecstasy. Her brother now takes up the note, 25 And echoes back his sister's glee; They hug the infant in my arms, As if to force his sympathy. Then, settling into fond discourse, We rested in the garden bower; 30 While sweetly shone the evening sun In his departing hour. We told o'er all that we had done,-- Our rambles by the swift brook's side Far as the willow-skirted pool, 35 Where two fair swans together glide. We talked of change, of winter gone, Of green leaves on the hawthorn spray, Of birds that build their nests and sing, And all "since Mother went away!" 40 To her these tales they will repeat, To her our new-born tribes will show, The goslings green, the ass's colt, The lambs that in the meadow go.