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THOUGH the torrents from their fountains
Roar down many a craggy steep,
Yet they find among the mountains
Resting-places calm and deep.
Though almost with eagle pinion
O'er the rocks the Chamois roam,
Yet he has some small dominion
Which no doubt he calls his home.
If on windy days the Raven
Gambol like a dancing skiff,
Not the less he loves his haven
On the bosom of the cliff.
Though the Sea-horse in the ocean
Own no dear domestic
Yet he slumbers without motion
On the calm and silent wave,
Day and night my toils redouble!
Never nearer to the goal,
Night and day, I feel the trouble,
Of the Wanderer in my soul.
WHEN Ruth was left half desolate,
Her father took another Mate,
And so, not seven years old,
The slighted Child at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill
In thoughtless freedom bold.
And she had made a pipe of straw
And from that oaten pipe could draw.
All sounds of winds and floods;
Had built a bower upon the green,
As if she from her birth had been
An infant of the woods.
There came a Youth from Georgia's shore,
A military casque he wore
With splendid feathers drest;
He brought them from the Cherokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze
And inade a gallant crest.
From Indian blood you deem him spring;
Ah no! he spake the English tongue
And bear a Soldier's name;
And when America was free
From battle and from jeopardy
He cross the ocean came.
With hues of genius on his cheek
In finest tones the Youth could speak.
-While he was yet a Boy
The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run,
Had been his dearest joy.
He was a lovely Youth! I
The panther in the wilderness
Was not so fair as he;
And when he chose to sport and play,
No dolphin ever was so gay
Upon the Tropic sea,
Among the Indians he had fought,
And with him many tales he brought
Of pleasure and of fear;
Such tales as told to any
By such a Youth in the green
shade Were perilous to hear.
He told of Girls, a happy rout,
Who quit their fold with dance and shout,
Their pleasant Indian Town,
To gather strawberries all day long,
Returning with a choral song
When day-light is gone down.
He spake of plants divine and strange
That ev'ry day their blossoms change,
Ten thousand lovely hues!
With budding, fading, faded flowers,
They stand the wonder of the bowers
From morn to evening dews.
He told of the Magnolia, * spread
High as a cloud, high over-head!
The Cypress and her spire,
Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam
Cover a hundred leagues, and seem
To set the hills on fire.
The Youth of green Savannahs spake,
And many an endless endless lake,
With all its fairy crowds,
Of islands that together lie
As quietly as spots of sky
Among the evening clouds:
And then he said, “how sweet it were
“ A fisher or a hunter there,
“ A gardener in the shade,
“ Still wandering with an easy mind,
“ To build a houshold fire, and find
“ A Home in every glade.
'“What days and what sweet years! Ah me!' “ Our life were life indeed, with thee “ So pass'd in quiet bliss, “ And all the whilc (said he) to know 6. That we were in a world of woe, « On such an carth as this !"
And then he sometimes interwove
Dcar thoughts about a father's love,
“ For there (said he) are spun
" Around the heart such tender ties'
". That our own children to our eyes
“ Are dearer than the sun.