6 TUB FORESTERS. 



To Europe's shores renowned in deathless song, 

 Mast all the honors of the bard belong 1 

 And rural Poetry's enchanting strain 

 Be only heard beyond th' Atlantic main! 

 What though profuse in many a patriot's praise, 

 We boast a Barlow's soul-exalting lays; 

 An Humphreys blessed with Homer's nervous glow ; 

 And Freedom's friend and champion in Freneau; 

 Yet Nature's charms that bloom so lovely here, 

 Unbailed arrive, unheeded disappear; 

 While bare bleak heathes and brooks of half a mile 

 Can rouse the thousand bards of Britain's Isle. 

 There scarce a stream creeps down its narrow bed, 

 There scarce a hillock lifts its little head, 

 Or humble hamlet peeps their glades among 

 But lives and murmers in immortal sontr. 

 Our western world, with all its matchless floods, 

 Our vast transparent lakes and boundless woods, 

 Stamped with the traits of majesty sublime, 

 Unhonored weep the silent lapse of time, 

 Spread their wild grandeur to the unconscious sky, 

 In sw r eetest seasons pass unheeded by ; 

 While scarce one Muse returns the songs the}' gave. 

 Or seeks to snatch their glories from the grave. 



The sultry heats of summer's sun were o'er, 

 And ruddy orchards poured their ripened store ; 

 Stripped of their leaves the cherry av'nues stood, 

 While sage October tinged the yellow wood, 

 Bestrew'd with leaves and nuts the woodland path, 

 Aiid roused the Katydid (2) In chattering wrath.; 



