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Had ever been the dreary haunt, Of prowling wolves and tigers gaunt; And the soft wind had only borne Upon its fresh and balmy wings, Of some lone bird the cry forlorn, Or savage creature's murmurings. For the bright sands no foot-prints wear, Save of the forest's denizens— The track of the gigantic bear, Pacing its wild and dismal glens; The fearful alligator's tread, The steep and rugged paths, where shine, In slender spears profusely shed, Quills of the fretful porcupine. Yet, on this now-deserted strand In fleet career a warlike band Flung the jerreed, or galloped o'er In stately guise the echoing shore. And round each crag and pinnacle Unnumbered perfumed flowers were springing,