THE FORESTERS. 23 



Winding its stately pomp through valleys green. 



Hail, charming river ! pure transparent flood ! 

 Unstained by noxious swamps or choaking mud; 

 Thundering through broken rocks in whirling foam ; 

 Or pleased o'er beds of glittering sand to roam; 

 Green be thy banks, sweet forest-wandering stream! 

 Still may thy waves with finny treasures teem; 

 The silvery shad and salmon crowd thy shores, 

 Thy tall woods echoing to the sounding oars; 

 On thy swoln bosom floaiing piles appear, 

 Filled with the harvest of our rich frontier: 

 Thy pine-browned cliffs, thy deep romantic vales, 

 Where wolves now wonder, and the panther wails, 

 Whereat long intervals, the hut forlorn 

 Peeps from the verdure of embowering corn, 

 In future times (nor distant far the day) 

 ►Shall glow with crowded towns and villas gay; 

 Unnumbered keels thy deepened course divide; 

 And airy arches pompously bestride ; 

 The domes of Science and Religion rise, 

 And millions swarm where now a forest lies. 



Now up green banks, through level fields of grass, 

 V\ ith heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass 

 Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fired, 

 And warriors brave by savage hands expired ; 

 Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew 

 Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few ; 

 While screams of horror pierced the midnight wood, 

 And the dire axe drank deep of human blood. (20) 



