From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto I, I)

The negro slave by Swanee river sang;
Well-pleased he listened to his echoes ringing;
For in his hearth a secret comfort sprang,
When Nature seemed to join his mournful singing.
To mem’ry’s cherished objects fondly clinging;
His bosom felt the sunset’s patient glow,
And spirit whispers into weird life springing,
Allured to worlds he trusted yet to know,
And lightened for awhile life’s burdens here below.