We have full many a splendid spot in our new-promis’d land,
Such soil,—so water’d,—timber’d too, soliciting your hand.”
“We thank you, liberal Colonists, for what you’re pleased to proffer,
We’re busy now,—another day we’ll listen to your offer.”
V.
The Colonists are waiting still, they prowl about their beach,
For well they guess some English dupes will come within their reach;
So they conjure up some Siren song, and have it put in print,
And rub their hands, and slap their thighs, at folks believing in’t:
They fabricate long letters home—from settlers well-to-do,