The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
INTRODUCTION.
One hour for distant homes to weep
'Midst Afric's burning sands,
One silent sunset hour was given
To the slaves of many lands.
'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.
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.
Of Alp and ocean sound,
With Afric's wild red skies above,
And solemn wastes around.
Broken with tears were oft their tones,
And most when most they tried
To breathe of hope and liberty,
From hearts that inly died.
And most when most they tried
To breathe of hope and liberty,
From hearts that inly died.
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So met the sons of many lands,
Parted by mount and main;
So did they sing in brotherhood,
Made kindred by the chain.
Parted by mount and main;
So did they sing in brotherhood,
Made kindred by the chain.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |