THE FORESTERS. 45 



So wonder-working is the hand of Toil, 



When Heav'n has blest and Freedom guards the soil. 



And streams so vast their powerful aid bestow 



To float down plenty whereso'er they flow. 



Now to the north, through open plains, we wind, 



And leave the river's bending course behind ; 



And now, where level lengthening meadows spread. 



Through hazel thickets rapidly we tread, 



Here, when descending rain in torrents pour, 



And the broad meadows float from shore to shore, 



In two wide routes their waters seek the main ; 



Part through St. Lawrence meets the sea again, 



Part to the south pursues its wandering way, 



And rolls to Chesapeake's capacious Bay.(29) 



Now dark before us gulfs of pines are seen, 

 That bear the name still of their Indian Queen ; 

 Great Catharine's Swamps, that deepening round extend, 

 Down whose dun glooms we awfully descend; 

 Around us thick ihe crowding pillars soar, 

 Surpassing all we ever viewed before, 

 So straight, so tall, so tow'ring side by side, 

 Each, in itself, appears the forest's pride, 

 A thousand fleets, with twice ten thousand more. 

 May here find masts iu everlasting store. 

 Here melancholy monks might moping dwell. 

 Nor ray of sunshine ever reach their cell 

 Through the dead twilight reigning horrid hero. 

 In ho!v oroans their relics sad revere. 



it s olitary shades ! so still and deep, 

 Even passing sighs in hollow murracrs cre^p ! 



C2 



