This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1853 Excerpt: ...time, and read their doom. LAKE ONTARIO. Deep thoughts o'ershade my spirit while I gaze Upon the blue depths of thy mighty breast; Thy ...Read MoreThis historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1853 Excerpt: ...time, and read their doom. LAKE ONTARIO. Deep thoughts o'ershade my spirit while I gaze Upon the blue depths of thy mighty breast; Thy glassy face is bright with sunset rays, And thy far-stretching waters are at rest, Save the small wave that on thy margin plays, Lifting to summer airs its flashing crest: While the fleet hues across thy surface driven, Mingle afar in the embrace of heaven. Thy smile is glorious when the morning's spring Gives ha'f its glowing beauty to the deep; When the dusk swallow dips his drooping wing, And the gay winds that o'er thy bosom sweep Tribute from dewv woods and violets bring. Thy restless billows in their gifts to steep. Thou't beautiful when evening moonbeams shine, And the soft hour of night and stars is thine. Thou hast thy tempests, too; the lightning's home Is near thee, though unseen; thy peaceful shore, When storms have lashed these waters into foam, Echoes full oft the pealing thunder's roar. Thou hast dark trophies: the unhonored tomb Of those now sought and wept on earth no more: Full many a goodly firm, the loved and brave. Lies whelmed and still beneath thy sullen wave. The world was young with thee: this swelling flood As proudly swelled, as purely met the sky, When sound of life roused not the ancient wood, Save the wild eagle's scream, or panther's cry: Here on this verdant bank the savage stood, And shook his dart and battle-axe on high, While hues of slaughter tinged thy billows blue, As deeper and more close the conflict grew. Here, too, at early morn, the hunter's song Was heard from wooded isle and grassy glade; And here, at eve, these clustered bowers among, The low, sweet carol of the Indian maid, Chiding the slumbering breeze and shadows long, That kept her lingering lover from the shade, While, scarc...Read Less
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