48 THE FORESTERS. 



And each returning Spring their tribute pour, 

 More rich, and more abundant than before. 



Now opening woods, in circuit wide, display, 

 A level vale with lawns and pastures gay, 

 Where music hailed us from a numerous brood, 

 The lone bells jumbling through the sounding wood ; 

 Sheep, oxen, cows, in busy parties strayed, 

 \Y hile snorting steeds our passing steps surveyed ; 

 Surrounding hills this peaceful place inclose, 

 And form a scene of sheltered sweet repose. (32) 

 Ah ! melancholy scene, (though once so dear) 

 To the poor Indian haply wandering here, 

 Whose eye forlorn, amid the gushing flood, 

 Beholds the spot where once his wigwam stood, 

 Where warrior's huts % in smoky pride were seen, 

 His nation's residence ! his native gTeen ! 

 Methinks, e ? n now, where yon red maples play, 

 The black-haired wanderer slowly bends his way, 

 And pensive stops, and heaves the stilled sigh, 

 As well known objects meet his rueful e) T e; 

 No words escape him, but while memory grieves, 

 These gloomy thoughts his burdened heart relieves. 



" O happy days ! for ever, ever gone ! 

 When these deep woods to white men were unknown ; 

 Then the Great Spirit gave us from on high, 

 A plain broad path, and unclouded sky ; 

 Then herds of deer in every thicket lay ; 

 Peace bleast our nights, and Plenty crowned our day ; 

 I5ut now dark clouds around our nation roar, 



