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36 MARGARETTA V. FAUGERES.

Soon as the waves had pressed the level mead,
Full many a pearly-footed Naiad fair,
With hasty steps, her limpid fountain led,
To swell the tide, and hail it welcome there;
Their busy hands collect a thousand flowers,
And scatter them along the grassy shores,
There, bending low, the water-lilies bloom,
And the blue crocus shed their moist perfume;
There the tall velvet scarlet lark-spur, laves
Her pale green stem in the pellucid waves; 
There nods the fragile columbine, so fair,
And the mild dewy wild-rose scents the air;
While round the trunk of some majestic pine
The blushing honey-suckle's branches twine;
There too Pomona's richest gifts are found,
Her golden melons press the fruitful ground;
The glossy crimson plums there swell their rinds,
And purple grapes dance to autumnal winds;
While all beneath the mandrake's fragrant shade,
The strawberry's delicious sweets are laid.
         *    *    *    *    *
Through many a "blooming wild" and woodland green,
  The Hudson's sleeping waters winding stray,
Now 'mongst the hills its silvery waves are seen,
  And now through arching willows steal away:
Then bursting on the enamoured sight once more,
  Gladden some happy peasant's rude retreat, 
And passing youthful Troy's commercial shore;
  With the hoarse Mohawk's roaring surges meet.
Oh! beauteous Mohawk! wildered with thy - charms, 
  The chilliest heart sinks into rapturous glows;
While the stern warrior, used to loud alarms, 
  Starts at the thunderings of thy dread Cohoes!
Now more majestic rolls the ample tide, 
  Tall waving elms its clovery borders shade,   

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MARGARETTA V. FAUGERES.   37

And many a stately dome, in ancient pride
  And hoary grandeur, there exalts its head. 
There trace the marks of culture's sunburnt hand,
  The honey'd buck-wheat's clustering blossoms view, 
Dripping rich odours, mark the beard-grain bland,
  The loaded orchard, and the flax-field blue.
Albania's gothic spires now greet the eye;
  Time's hand hath wiped their burnish'd tints away, 
And the rich fanes which sparkled to the sky,
 'Reft of their splendours, mourn in cheerless grey.

Low sunk between the Alleganian hills,
  For many a league the sullen waters glide, 
  And the deep murmur of the crowded tide, 
With pleasing awe the wondering voyager fills. 
On the green summit of yon lofty clift,
  A peaceful runnel gurgles clear and slow, 
Then down the craggy steep-side dashing swift, 
  Tremendous falls in the white surge below. 
Here spreads a clovery lawn its verdure far, 
  Around it mountains vast their forests rear, 
And long ere day hath left his burnish'd car,
  The dews of night have shed their odours there.
There hangs a lowering rock across the deep;
  Hoarse roar the waves its broken base around;
Though its dark caverns noisy whirlwinds sweep, 
  While Horror startles at the fearful sound.
The shivering sails that cut the fluttering breeze, 
  Glide through these winding rocks with airy sweeps,
Beneath the cooling glooms of waving trees,
  And sloping pastures speck'd with fleecy sheep.

 A VERSION OF PART OF THE SEVENTH
           CHAPTER OF JOB.
  As sighs the labourer for the cooling shade,
  When glowing sunbeams scorch the verdant blade;
  4

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 13:04:32 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 15:01:58 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 18:18:27