| |
(From Lancaster)
O THOU who journeyest through that Eden-clime, | |
| Winding thy devious way to cheat the time, | |
| Delightful Nashua! beside thy stream, | |
| Fain would I paint thy beauties as they gleam. | |
| Eccentric river! poet of the woods! | 5 |
| Where, in thy far secluded solitudes, | |
| The wood-nymphs sport and naiads plash thy wave, | |
| With charms more sweet than ever Fancy gave; | |
| How oft with Mantua’s bard, from school let free, | |
| I ’ve conned the silver lines that flow like thee, | 10 |
| Couched on thy emerald banks, at full length laid, | |
| Where classic elms grew lavish of their shade, | |
| Or indolently listened, while the throng | |
| Of idler beings woke their summer song; | |
| Or, with rude angling gear, outwatched the sun, | 15 |
| Comparing mine to deeds by Walton done. | |
| Far down the silent stream, where arching trees | |
| Bend their green boughs so gently to the breeze, | |
| One live, broad mass of molten crystal lies, | |
| Clasping the mirrored beauties of the skies! | 20 |
| Look, how the sunshine breaks upon the plains! | |
| So the deep blush their flattered glory stains. | |
| Romantic river! on thy quiet breast, | |
| While flashed the salmon with his lightning crest, | |
| Not long ago, the Indian’s thin canoe | 25 |
| Skimmed lightly as the shadow which it threw; | |
| Not long ago, beside thy banks of green, | |
| The night-fire blazed and spread its dismal sheen. | |
| Thou peaceful valley! when I think how fair | |
| Thy various beauty shines, beyond compare, | 30 |
| I cannot choose but own the Power that gave | |
| Amidst thy woes a helping hand to save, | |
| When o’er thy hills the savage war-whoop came, | |
| And desolation raised its funeral flame! | |
| |
