From Blackwood, SONGS OF THE CAPTIYITY.f !
{"character_count": 1411, "word_count": 257, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9326000213623047], "ccnet_perplexity": [1677.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
BY MRS. REMAINS. One hour for distant home to weep, Midst Afrie2s burning sands, One silent sunset hour was given To the slaves of many lands. They sat beneath lonely palm, In the gardens of their lord, And mingling with the fountains 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 tones, 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 kindredly the chain.

 THE BROTHER s DIRGE. in the proud old fanes of England My warrior fathers lie, Banners hang dropping o'er their dest With gorgeous blazonry.

 But thouy but hou, my brother!

 Der thee dark pillows sweep,

 The best and bravest-heart of all

 Ia shrouded by the deep. In the old high wars of England Their noble fathers bled For her lion Kings of lance and spear They went down to the dead.

 But thou, but thou, my brother!

 Thy life days flowed for nc

 Would I were with thee in thy rest,

 Young sleeper of the sea. In a shelter'd home of England Our sister dwells alone With quick heart listening for the sound Of footsteps that are gone.

 She little dreams, my brother! Ofthe wild fate we have found;

 I, midst the Afric sands a slave, Thou by the dark seas bound,