YONNONDIO.

CANTO FIRST.

THE CAMP.

Lovely is Summer in old Mother Land,

Lighting up garden, park and pasture green; Wrecks of monastic pomp, and castle grand, Forever hallowed features of the scene! But lovelier look the nymph puts on, I ween, Amid lone forests of the Western World, Though brown of visage and untamed of mien

Moss-fringed her robe-her ringlets all uncurled With dew in leafy halls, at noontide hour impearled.

Oak groves of merry England are renowned
In rustic legend and in polished lay;

Mort on the horn her early monarchs wound,
While bled the stag, beneath their branches gray,

And still their iron trunks defy decay

But rugged woods of our Hesperian clime

Have wider empire :-clothed in dark array

That graced their arches at the birth of Time, When new-born spheres, with song, began their march sublime.

I.

Through pines that crowned the wooded steep,
Winds, freshened by the lake were sighing,
And in his basin, broad and deep,
Irondequoit was darkly lying.

A deeper, more luxuriant green,

In grassy spire and wood-plant seen;
A clearer tinkle in the rill,

And light more lustrous on the hill,
A richer fragrance in the breeze,
And wilder, sweeter melodies,
Told that serene and happy May
To summer had resigned her sway;
That arching sky had caught its hue
From June's clear orb of radiant blue.

II.

Earth was in gala dress arrayed,

And blushed with flowers the forest mould,

While stately tulip trees displayed

Their honied cups of glistening gold;

Rich robe was over maple flung;
On chestnut golden tassel hung;

Light airs a slumberous tune evoked

From leaves that trembling poplar cloaked, And oaks a thicker foliage bore,

To canopy the forest floor;

Where open space on hill side lay,
Exposed to ripening warmth of day,
The sod, with strawberries bestrown,
Was tinted like the ruby-stone.

Far up

III.

the reedy bay were seen

Bright upland swells with vales between,

Through which ran brooks of crystal sheen;

The lily-stem its silver cup

Above the water lifted up,

And throwing on deep pool a shade,
Waved the long flag its emerald blade;
To crumbling marge, with eager cries,
The heron bore his dripping prize,
And down the rough uneven bank
The snorting wild deer came and drank;
Amid the reeds that fringed the shore
The water-rat and otter swam,

And fearlessly the beaver bore

His tooth-hewn timber to the dam.

Wild was the scene!-his ragged cone,

Old mossy hemlock reared on high,
The forest eagle's lofty throne
When tired of circling in the sky.
The mock-bird, perched on bending spray,
Woke his sweet, imitative lay;

With arching neck and air of pride,
The white swan floated on the tide;

And gabbling in sequestered cove,

The black duck oiled her breast, and dove.

IV.

East of Irondequoit the scene

Was rich in robes of living green,
But ruder charm romantic gaze

Found on the Western shore to praise;
For the huge monarchs of the wood
In straggling groups disparted stood,
As if they did not wish to break
The broad blue prospect of the Lake,
Their playmate when the rugged earth
Gave stem and leaf a hardy birth; '
Whose bath of cool, refreshing spray
Had wet them many a summer day;
Whose surge kept time upon the shore
When night-blast woke their branches hoar,

In concert with the hollow roar.

On naked point of table-land

That, beetling o'er the polished strand,