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A VALLEY from the river shore withdrawn
Was Albert's home, two quiet woods between,
Whose lofty verdure overlook'd his lawn;
And waters to their resting place serene
Came fresh’ning, and reflecting all the scene:
(A mirror in the depth of flowery shelves ;)
So sweet a spot of earth, you might, (I ween)
Have guess'd some congregation of the elves
To sport by summer moons, had shap'd it for them-

• selves,

Yet wanted not the eye far scope to muse,
Nor vistas open'd by the wand'ring stream;
Both where at evening Allegany views,
Through ridges burning in her western beam,
Lake after lake interminably gleam:
And past those settlers' haunts the eye might roam,
Where earth's unliving silence all would seem;

Save where on rocks the beaver built his dome,
Or buffalo remote low'd far from human home,

III.

But silent not that adverse eastern pathy
Which saw Aurora's hills th' horizon crown;
There was the river heard, in bed of wrath,
(A precipice of foam from mountains brown,)

Like tumults heard from some far distant town;
But soft'ning in approach he left his gloom,
And murmur'd pleasantly, and laid him down
To kiss those easy curving banks of bloom,
That lent the windward air an exquisite perfume.

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It seem'd as if those scenes sweet influence had
On Gertrude's-soul, and kindness like their own ..
Inspir'd those eyes affectionate and glad, . . ..
That seem'd to love whate'er they look'd upon;
Whether with Hebe's mirth her features shone,
Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast,
(As if for heav'nly musing meant alone;)
Yet so becomingly th' expression past,
That each succeeding look was lovelier than the

last..

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