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Thus gleam'd the altar, where the lonely ark Found for the patriarch's foot a place of rest, Ere from the wildering waste of waters dark The rescued planet raised its mournful breast.

Hail hallow'd dome! whence first was heard to flow That strain of praise which heavenly choirs repeat, While the stern savage stay'd his quivering bow From echo's voice to woo that cadence sweet.—

Here, her young babe, the pensive matron brought, Here, the glad lover led his youthful bride, And in thy solemn ordinance forgot The far cathedral, once their childhood's pride.—

Were language thine, what scenes couldst thou describe When the New World to meet the Old essay'd,— The simple welcome of the wandering tribe, The incipient hatred, and the blood-stain'd shade.

The plumed chieftains round their council-fire,— The tireless hunters on the wind-swept hill, The sober pilgrims like some patient sire, Guarding the infant colony from ill.—

Here, for a time, beguiled by venal dreams, They scorn'd the labours of a cultured soil, To hoard the dust that paved their glittering streams Till meagre Famine mock'd their futile toil.

Here* too, the ebon race from Afric's plains, Learnt the dire import of the name of slave,