53
Had ever been the dreary haunt,
Of prowling wolves and tigers gaunt;
And the soft wind had only borne
Upon its fresh and balmy wings,
Of some lone bird the cry forlorn,
Or savage creature's murmurings.
For the bright sands no foot-prints wear,
Save of the forest's denizens—
The track of the gigantic bear,
Pacing its wild and dismal glens;
The fearful alligator's tread,
The steep and rugged paths, where shine,
In slender spears profusely shed,
Quills of the fretful porcupine.
Yet, on this now-deserted strand
In fleet career a warlike band
Flung the jerreed, or galloped o'er
In stately guise the echoing shore.
And round each crag and pinnacle
Unnumbered perfumed flowers were springing,
