Its bosom thick-gemmed with the loveliest isles,
Its borders with vistas of Paradise studded,—
Looking up to the heaven sweet Horicon smiles.
Thick set are its haunts with old legend and story,
That, woven by genius, still cluster and blend;
But its beauty will cling, like a halo of glory,
When legend and record with ages shall end.
. . . . . . . . .
Far down in the waters the pebbles are gleaming,—
Far down in the clear waves that nothing can hide;