922 A N N U A L R E G I S T E R, 1800. 



III. 



Then, where of Indian hills the daylight takes 

 His leave, how might you the flamingo see 

 Disporting like a meteor on the lakes— 

 And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree ; 

 And every sound of life was full of glee, 

 From merry mock-bird's song, or hum of men, 

 While heark'ning, fearing nought their revelry, 

 The wild deer arch'd his neck from glades, and then, 

 Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again. 



IV. 



And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime 



Heard but in transatlantic story rung, 



For here the exile met from every clime, 



And spoke in friendship ev'ry distant tongue ; 



Men from the blood of warring Europe sprung, 



Were but divided by the running brook ; 



And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung, 



On plains no sieging mine's volcano shook, 



The blue-ey'd German chang'd his sword to pruning-Iiook. 



V. 



Nor far some Andalusian saraband 



Would sound to many a native rondelay. 



But who is he that yet a dearer land 



Remembers, over hills and far away ? 



Green Albyn !* what though he no more survey 



Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore, 



Thy pellochs rolling from the mountain bay ; 



Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor, 



And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar \\ 



VI. 



Alas ! poor Caledonia's mountaineer, 



That want's stern edict e'er, Snd feudal grief. 



Had forced him from a home he lov'd so dear ! 



Yet found he here a home, and glad relief, 



And ply'd the bev'rage from his own fair sheaf, 



That fir'd his Highland blood with mickle glee ; 



And England sent her men, of men the chief, 



Who taught those sires of Empire yet to be, 



To plant the tree of life ; to plant fair freedom's tree ! 



Here 



* Scotland. 



t The great whirlpool of the Western Hebrides. 



