Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/13



Summer in Wyoming.— Through the breast Of that fair vale, the Susquehannah roam'd, Wearing its robe of silver, like a bride. Now, with a noiseless current, gliding slow 'Mid the rich velvet of its curtaining banks, It seem'd to sleep,—o'erwearied with the toil By which its roughly-guarded 1 pass was won;— Then hasting on, refreshing and refresh'd, Vaunting the glories of its sylvan home, It spread a mirror to the changeful cloud In chrystal beauty.— From the towering hills That revel in the sunbeams, or retire Shrouded in mist, the gazing traveller drinks Such deep delight, as only Nature gives, When in her garb of loveliness, she mocks Pencil, and power of speech.—Yon pictur'd chart Of lawn, and stream, and mountain's shadowy height, And rocks in quiet verdure meekly bower'd, Rebukes the pomp of cities, and the strife Of competition, and the lust of gold. —The landscape 2 hath a legend: hurrying steps Of stately warriors,—valor, prompt and proud To guard its nested loves,—the fatal wile