peak!
Upon this spot the redskin oft
Has danced his 'War dance' and his 'Feast,'
His face a reddish hue aglow--
Long locks with eaglets' plumes bedecked;
His bow and never-failing dart,
And scalper dangling at his side.
More brightly gleamed his wary eye,
As braves the war-whoop loudly yelled--
A sight more like the fiery fiends
From Pluto's ghastly shore returned
Than human blood and bone!
They all have gone and left no tale
But woe which hurled them ever hence
To that shore whence no bark returns.
Old Cabin, thou, a land-mark art,
Of human progress' steady march!"

III

Of thee
Thus has time passed with naught more said;
For man in his pedantic art
Soars far in feeble flights of song
From Nature's heart, and thus he fails
With Nature's God to hold commune!
The bard has slept, dreamed many a dream,
But failed to dream one dream of thee.
High hangs his lyre on willow reed,
And sitting 'neath yon shady nook,
He fails to catch one note of thy
Immortal song that fills the air.
Awake, O bard, from sleep so deep!
Attune thy lyre; let Nature breathe
In her immortal breath of song;
Then wilt thou sing a song most sweet,
The song by Nature's vesper choir,
Through all the countless ages sung,--
And still is singing day by day.
Then all the world will join thy sweet
Refrain in praise and ardent love
Of this fair forest Dame!

IV

The nations all their day shall have;
Yet each in turn shall rise and fall,
As falls the dark brown autumn leaf;
Or as those dread sky-kissing tides,
Which toss frail barks high upon
Some ghastly, frowning storm-beat shore,--
Though slowly, yet quite surely ebb away.
--Aye! Egypt fair once spread the Nile,
And green-bay-tree-like proudly flourished;
Her snowy sails sea-ports bedecked,
And deeply ploughed the rolling main,
Or clave the placid lakes, as does
The gentle swan, when some soft breeze
The bulrush stirs, flings its perfume
Upon the rippling silver waves!
Fair cities dotted here and there
Her vast domain. Her royal line
Of Pharaohs held the sceptre gold
Upon her all-emblazoned throne.
Now Egypt fair is wreck and ruin.
For, as fled on the flight of years,
The unrelenting Hand of time
Wiped her sweet visage off the globe!
Naught save the grim, grey pyramid,
Sublimest work of man, yet stands
To greet the rosy morn, with proud
Uplifted head, expanded chest--
A death defiant scoff at time!
Yet hoary Time in