and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters,
Woe is me my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone--sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go,
Faint with toil, and rack'd with pain,
To their cheerless homes again--
There no brother's voice shall greet them--
There no father's welcome meet them.--_Gone, &c._

Gone, gone--sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play--
From the cool spring where they drank--
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank--
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there.--_Gone, &c._

Gone, gone--sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the Spoiler's prey;
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er,
And the fetter galls no more!--_Gone, &c._

Gone, gone--sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
By the holy love He beareth--
By the bruised reed He spareth--
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.--_Gone, &c._

WHAT MEANS THAT SAD AND DISMAL LOOK?

Words by Geo. Russell. Arranged from "Near the Lake," by G.W.C.

[Music]

What means that sad and dismal look,
And why those falling tears?
No voice is heard, no word is spoke,
Yet nought but grief appears.

Ah! Mother, hast thou ever known
The pain of parting ties?
Was ever infant from thee torn
And sold before thine eyes?

Say, would not grief _thy_ bosom swell?
_Thy_ tears like rivers flow?
Should some rude ruffian seize and sell
The child thou lovest so?

There's feeling in a _Mother's_ breast,
Though _colored_ be her skin!
And though at Slavery's foul behest,
She must not weep for kin.

I had a lovely, smiling child,
It sat upon my knee;
And oft a tedious hour beguiled,
With merry heart of glee.

That child was from my bosom torn,
And sold before my eyes;
With outstretched arms, and looks forlorn,
It uttered piteous cries.

Mother! dear Mother!--take, O take
Thy helpless little one!
Ah! then I thought my heart would break;
My child--my child was gone.

Long, long ago, my child they stole,
But yet my grief remains;
These tears flow freely--and my soul
In bitterness complains.

Then ask not why "my