UNIV. OF CALBORM. PROEM. Realm of the Senecas! no more In shadow lies the Pleasant Vale; Gone are the Chiefs who ruled of yore, Like chaff before the rushing gale. Their rivers run with narrowed bounds, Cleared are their broad, old hunting grounds, And on their ancient battle fields The greensward to the ploughman yields ; Their fame resounded and grew still, Recall their wild rich forest tongue, Oblivion swallows, one by one, Around the crackling camp-fire told- A few brave deeds and traits sublime. YONNONDIO. CANTO FIRST. THE CAMP. Lovely is Summer in old Mother Land, 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, Irondequoit was darkly lying. A deeper, more luxuriant green, And light more lustrous on the hill, 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; 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, III. Far up 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, And fearlessly the beaver bore His tooth-hewn timber to the dam. Wild was the scene!—his ragged cone, |