Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 34 1833.pdf/15



hour for distant home to weep, Midst Afric's burning sands, One silent sunset hour was given To the slaves of many lands.

They sat beneath a lonely palm, In the gardens of their Lord, And mingling with the fountain's tune, Their songs of exile pour'd.

And strangely, sadly, did those lays Of Alp and Ocean sound, With Afric's wild red skies above, And solemn wastes around.

Broken with tears were oft their tone, And most when most they tried To breathe of hope and liberty, From hearts that inly died.

So met the sons of many lands, Parted by mount and main, So did they sing in brotherhood, Made kindred by the chain.