Chapter XXXVI

Thence, in the vale below, our Founder sees
Where dark Mooshausick rolls, and seaward casts,
Its waters,--rolling under lofty trees
With crossing branches, thick as e’er the masts
That shall, thereafter, on the wanton breeze
Display their banners, when, in sounding blasts,
The cannon utters its triumphant voice,
And bids the land through all its States rejoice.