How the traveller blesses thee,
When the night no moon allows,
And the sun-set hour is near,
And thou bend’st thy boughs
To kiss his brows,
Saying, ‘Come rest thee here.’
Oh! Abyssinian tree,
Thus bow thy head to me!”
In the burden of this song the companions of the young Nubian joined; and we heard the words, “Oh! Abyssinian tree,” dying away on the breeze, long after the whole group had been lost to our eyes.
Whether, in this new arrangement which I had made for our voyage, any motive, besides those which I professed, had a share, I can scarcely, even myself, so bewildered were my feelings, determine. But no sooner had the current borne us away from all human dwellings, and we were alone on the waters, with not a soul near, than I felt how closely such solitude draws hearts together, and how much more we seemed to belong to each other, than when there were eyes around.