Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay’d,

The modest matron, and the blushing maid,

Forc’d from their homes, a melancholy train,

To traverse climes beyond the western main—

main—

Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,3

And Niagara stuns with thundering sound?

27

27

Even now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays

Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways,

Where beasts with man divided empire claim,

And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim—

aim—

There, while above the giddy tempest flies,

And all around distressful yells arise—

arise—

The pensive exile, bending with his woe,

To stop too fearful, and too faint to go,

Casts a long look where England’s glories shine,

 Prev. P 37/189 next