Soon as the waves had pressed the level mead, Full many a pearly-footed Naiad fair, With hasty steps, her limpid fountain led, To swell the tide, and hail it welcome there; Their busy hands collect a thousand flowers, And scatter them along the grassy shores, There, bending low, the water-lilies bloom, And the blue crocus shed their moist perfume; There the tall velvet scarlet lark-spur, laves Her pale green stem in the pellucid waves; There nods the fragile columbine, so fair, And the mild dewy wild-rose scents the air; While round the trunk of some majestic pine The blushing honey-suckle's branches twine; There too Pomona's richest gifts are found, Her golden melons press the fruitful ground; The glossy crimson plums there swell their rinds, And purple grapes dance to autumnal winds;While all beneath the mandrake's fragrant shade, The strawberry's delicious sweets are laid.
Through many a "blooming wild" and woodland green, The Hudson's sleeping waters winding stray, Now 'mongst the hills its silvery waves are seen, And now through arching willows steal away: Then bursting on the enamoured sight once more, Gladden some happy peasant's rude retreat, And passing youthful Troy's commercial shore, With the hoarse Mohawk's roaring surges meet. Oh! beauteous Mohawk! wildered with thy charms, The chilliest heart sinks into rapturous glows; While the stern warrior, used to loud alarms, Starts at the thunderings of thy dread Cohoes! Now more majestic rolls the ample tide, Tall waving elms its clovery borders shade,