The halls of their nativity were bright,
And fraught with recollections, fond and sweet,
Of childish hours; and hearts that loved them beat
Beneath their pleasant roofs: forsaking all—
They roused the wood-wolf from his dim retreat,
And boldly reared the gloomy cabin wall
Of rude, misshapen logs, amid the forest tall.
They little thought, while roving near the site
Of thy proud city,[[C]] deafened by the sound
Of waters tumbling from a fearful height,