'Tis true no fairies haunt our verdant meads, No grinning imps deform our blazing hearth; Beneath the kelpie's fang no traveller bleeds, Nor gory vampyre taints our holy earth, Nor spectres stalk to frighten harmless mirth, Nor tortured demon howls adown the gale; Fair reason checks these monsters in their birth. Yet have we lay of love and horrid tale Would dim the manliest eye and make the bravest pale. VI. Where is the stony eye that hath not shed Compassion's heart-drops o'er the sweet Mc Rea? Through midnight's wilds by savage bandits led, "Her heart is sad--her love is far away!" Elate that lover waits the promised day When he shall clasp his blooming bride again-- Shine on, sweet visions! dreams of rapture, play! Soon the cold corse of her he loved in vain Shall blight his withered heart and fire his frenzied brain. VII. Romantic Wyoming! could none be found Of all that rove thy Eden groves among, To wake a native harp's untutored sound, And give thy tale of wo the voice of song? Oh! if description's cold and nerveless tongue From stranger harps such hallowed strains could call, How doubly sweet the descant wild had rung, From one who, lingering round thy ruined wall, Had plucked thy mourning flowers and wept thy timeless fall. VIII. The Huron chief escaped from foemen nigh, His frail bark launches on Niagara's tides, "Pride in his port, defiance in his eye," Singing his song of death the warrior glides; In vain they yell along the river sides, In vain the arrow from its sheaf is torn, Calm to his doom the willing victim rides, And, till adown the roaring torrent borne, Mocks them with gesture proud, and laughs their rage to scorn. IX. But if the charms of daisied hill and vale, And rolling flood, and towering rock sublime, If warrior deed or peasant's lowly tale Of love or wo should fail to wake the rhyme, If to the wildest heights of song you climb, (Tho' some who know you less, might cry, beware!) Onward! I say--your strains shall conquer time; Give your bright genius wing, and hope to share Imagination's worlds--the ocean, earth, and air. X. Arouse, my friend--let vivid fancy soar, Look with creative eye on nature's face, Bid airy sprites in wild Niagara roar, And view in every field a fairy race. Spur thy good Pacolet to speed apace, And spread a train of nymphs on every shore; Or if thy muse would woo a ruder grace, The Indian's evil Manitou's explore, And rear the wondrous tale of legendary lore. XI.