XXIX.

I turn to thee fair Trenton! Soft the sound

Of falling waters breaks upon the ear,
Like magic music in the air around;

Now in the distance faint, now heard more near
As though they sought yet dreaded to appear;
Now softly murmuring along the air

Where the high banks their cumbrous foliage rear,
And now retreating to the hollow, where

The ever-restless waves their deeper channel wear:

XXX.

Such melody is in the mingled voice

Of rushing waters, when the mellow roar
Of the wild torrent, bids the woods rejoice,
While the white rapids hurry mutt'ring o'er
Their bed of rocks. And now I see them pour
Their frothy billows from the frowning steep
Into the shady gulf, around whose shore

The reeling eddy slowly seems to creep,

As though the waves were stunn'd with their descending

leap.

XXXI.

But, soon reviving, they rush on, and chafe
The rugged masses of the narrow strand

On whose steep side the foot is scarcely safe.
Here Nature's care the lovely scene has plann'd
With equal mixture of the soft and grand;
On either bank in their majestic height
The forests stretch abroad their leafy hand

In quietude and peace; and softly bright,
Display their varied tints to evening's mellow light;

XXXII.

While, dark beneath, the torrent wends its way;

And, sullenly, the plunging fall is seen

To sink within its curtain'd bed of spray;

Seeming as though those beauteous banks had been United, ere the rude waves rush'd between And sever'd them for ever. Moulder'd low Tho' many a proud stem lies, yet others lean As fondly o'er the darkling gulf, and grow In all fantastic forms above its ceaseless flow.

XXXIII.

So, too, amid the forest's deep'ning shade

Youth triumphs over age; for here the scene

Grows sterner: mould'ring trunks, where Time has laid His heavy hand in silence, stretch between The lofty woods, where culture ne'er has been Extended to control their growth; and here The failing *hemlock's broken branches lean For help against the sturdy pine, and rear On high the shatter'd limbs whose dying day is near.

XXXIV.

Lie there thou prostrate monarch of the wood!

Memorial of Time's incessant flow!

Mark still the spot where thou hast proudly stood, And tell how tempest of past years might blow, And how once roar'd the blast which laid thee low: That long hush'd storm is gone for ever by,

And thy stout seedlings high above thee grow;

Rearing their quiet foliage to that sky

Whose darker mood, long since, has bid thee lowly lie.

*Abies Canadensis

XXXV.

And thou hast yet sav'd somewhat from decay;
Thy mould'ring trunk still shews its mighty size;
Grand e'en in ruin: but where now are they
Who might have seen thy lofty form arise,
Ere yet the wanderer from distant skies

Had reach'd the forest land? where are they gone Who dwelt around thee? where the hunting cries Which, gaily floating on the breath of morn, Rous'd from his leafy lair the lightly bounding fawn?

XXXVI.

That startling cry is now for ever still;

And still'd for ever is the wild deer's bound;
While, yielding only to the gurgling rill,
One long unbroken silence reigns around :
Save where, at times, the melancholy sound
Breaks on the ear, of some decaying tree
Sinking with hollow crash upon the ground;
Telling how vigour of young days will flee,

And pointing to the woods what they, full soon, must be.

XXXVII.

On ev'ry side extends the vast expanse

Of gloomy forest, where the loit❜ring breeze
Rustles the maple leaves, and bids them dance
To their own music; while the heavier trees
Rest still their sombre height in drowsy ease.
'Tis with a solemn feeling that alone

The Christian wanders through such scenes as these; Where but the wind, with melancholy moan, Despairing of all other sounds gives forth its own,

XXXVIII.

To tell him of his utter loneliness,

And draw, perchance, the heart's responding sigh:
Yet do they whisper too of peace; nor less
Than blither scenes, declare that He is nigh
On whom the soul may peacefully rely

When thoughts of earth seem only to deride
Our hopes, like dreams whose scenes pass idly by

And leave the weary mind unsatisfied.

Bright in its passing show, but never to abide,