The giant cataract to the astounded plains,—
Nature, in her sublimest moods, had given
Not man’s weak lore,—but a quick flash from heaven.
Roaming in their free lives, by lake and stream;
Beneath the splendour of their gorgeous sky;
Encamping, while shot down night’s starry gleam,
In piny glades, where their forefathers lie;
Voices would come, and breathing whispers seem
To rouse within, the life which may not die;