Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/46

Had doubtless kept their minds more clear, and lent
A rarer sprinkling of intelligence
Than our sleek herds, who plunge in clover deep,
Ever attain. Yet still, 't was passing strange
Such intellectual intercourse to hold
With horned creatures, and behold them there
Amenable to none. For house, or home,
Or farm-yard, where some tinkling bell might call
Those roaming vassals to their rightful lord,
Though searching close, we saw not.
                                                       No frail hut,
Or slight canoe of the poor red-browed tribes,
So numerous once, on their own soil remained.
The white man's flocks and herds outnumbered them,
And took their lands.
                          Still, as we passed along,
On our right hand the glorious Ocean rolled,
With its long-terraced, thunder-uttering waves,
While on our left, spread out that sheltered sea
Which laves the green shores of my native State,
Approaching gently, with its whispered tides,
Subdued and docile, as a child at school.
The contrast pleased us well, as on we prest
To the sharp verge of that promontory
Where Sea and Ocean meet. And there, we climbed
To the hill-planted light-house, and beheld
The confluence of waters. Studded o'er
The near expanse, the fishing vessels lay,
Each fixed and still, as 'mid a sea of glass;