| |
| I HEARD the forests as they cried | |
| Unto the valleys green, | |
| “Where is the red-browed hunter race, | |
| Who loved our leafy screen, | |
| Who humbled mid these dewy glades | 5 |
| The red deer’s antlered crown, | |
| Or soaring at his highest noon, | |
| Struck the strong eagle down?” | |
| |
| Then in the zephyr’s voice replied | |
| Those vales, so meekly blest: | 10 |
| “They reared their dwellings on our side, | |
| Their corn upon our breast; | |
| A blight came down, a blast swept by, | |
| The cone-roofed cabins fell; | |
| And where that exiled people fled, | 15 |
| It is not ours to tell.” | |
| |
| Niagara, of the mountains gray, | |
| Demanded, from his throne, | |
| And old Ontario’s billowy lake | |
| Prolonged the thunder tone, | 20 |
| “The chieftains at our side who stood | |
| Upon our christening day, | |
| Who gave the glorious names we bear, | |
| Our sponsors, where are they?” | |
| |
| And then the fair Ohio charged | 25 |
| Her many sisters dear, | |
| “Show me once more those stately forms | |
| Within my mirror clear”; | |
| But they replied, “Tall barks of pride | |
| Do cleave our waters blue, | 30 |
| And strong keels ride our farthest tide, | |
| But where ’s their light canoe?” | |
| |
| The farmer drove his ploughshare deep; | |
| “Whose bones are these?” said he. | |
| “I find them where my browsing sheep | 35 |
| Roam o’er the upland lea.” | |
| But starting sudden to his path, | |
| A phantom seemed to glide, | |
| A plume of feathers on his head, | |
| A quiver at his side. | 40 |
| |
| He pointed to the rifled grave, | |
| Then raised his hand on high, | |
| And with a hollow groan invoked | |
| The vengeance of the sky. | |
| O’er the broad realm so long his own, | 45 |
| Gazed with despairing ray, | |
| Then on the mist that slowly curled, | |
| Fled mournfully away. | |
| |
