Scarce have the paths been trod by Indian huntsman’s feet.
XV.
The forests are around him in their pride,
The green savannas, and the mighty waves;
And isles of flowers, bright-floating o’er the tide,[16]
That images the fairy worlds it laves,
And stillness, and luxuriance. O’er his head
The ancient cedars wave their peopled bowers,
On high the palms their graceful foliage spread,
Cinctured with roses the magnolia towers;