Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/232

228 A form, whom Beauty rare and high, And Genius, with an eagle eye, And Piety on radiant throne, Did consecrate, and make their own.

A traveller in the realms of old, Where art and wealth their charms unfold, Amid the Alpine cliffs be saw That Name which woke his infant awe, And summoned to an early tomb, In bright, but scarce perfected bloom, Beheld, with faith's exulting thought, The crown by his Redeemer bought.

Fair Wyoming, the enthusiast's eye Doth scan thy charms with ecstasy. Yet though the tide of minstrel song Hath flowed thine echoing haunts along, And martyr-courage, bold and free, Bequeathed its blood-stained wreath to thee, A holier fame for thee is spread, The birth-place of the sainted dead.