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SAVILLE.
Fair Saville! earliest village of the wood, To break the reign of ancient solitude, Where erst the dusky tennants of the shade, Along the Mississippi's waters strayed; Thou once did flourish on the lap of fame, When to thy rude abodes adventure's wand'ring footsteps came.
I turn with reverential step and slow, To trace the scenes my recollections know. Where now thy cliffs bleak winter's wiles oppose, When through the screeching air his blasts he throws, There warring totems once prolonged their stay, And then e'en with reluctance went their way. And where yon blossomed fields, and orchards green, Fresh meadows, and contented flocks are seen, There erst the Indian reared his wigwam rude, Deep in the wide forest's pathless solitude.
Dear to me yet, and every day more dear, Familiar sounds revive upon my ear; Familiar scenes come to me o'er the past, And I, recoiling from the Future vast, Revisit in my dreams and solitude, The pleasant places of thy borders rude.