Page:Snow-Bound (1866).djvu/34

 "Does not the voice of reason cry,

Claim the first right which Nature gave,

From the red scourge of bondage fly,

Nor deign to live a burdened slave!"

Our father rode again his ride

On Memphremagog's wooded side;

Sat down again to moose and samp

In trapper's hut and Indian camp;

Lived o'er the old idyllic ease

Beneath St. François' hemlock-trees;

Again for him the moonlight shone

On Norman cap and bodiced zone;

Again he heard the violin play

Which led the village dance away,

And mingled in its merry whirl

The grandam and the laughing girl.

Or, nearer home, our steps he led

Where Salisbury's level marshes spread