And roused wild echoes in the woody dell,
Where late the cougar, of terrific mien,
Devoured the fawn, or rocked upon his perch unseen.
With his penates, to the distant shores
Of our broad western streams, Adventure hied,
And pierced the soil for rich metallic ores,
Or, with a keen, prophetic vision, spied
An unborn mart upon the river-side;
While Traffic trimmed her bark to brave the gale,
And meet the terrors of a chartless tide—