That laughed on the vales and the tree-tops,
When he led his stalwort band
To slaughter the virgin forest
That blackened the Delaware’s brow,
And gayly and freely they slaughtered
The trees of the creek-fed river,
The river that leaped from its mountain-goblet
Glittering, clear as dew, and pure as a thought of the Deity,
Far up in its deep scoop of rock.
How they laughed as they swung their blows