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TO THE RIVER HAWKESBURY.
Majestic flood, that glid'st 'mid shading trees,
Seeking, like rarest good; a course unseen,
How rich a lesson may the muser glean
From out thy heaven-writ page! In thee he sees
A pilgrim that for ages held thy way,
Blessing the land, when none did mark thy wave
Save tribes unwitting of the good ye gave.
Waiting with patience the all-welcome day,
When happy homes should line thy bounteous banks,
And maids; like Mary Anne, should bide
Amid thy vales, and in thy sunny tide,
Mirror their graceful forms. Thus yielding thanks
For ev'ry fleeting joy, the true hearts know
No change, let sadness come or fortune's favours flow.
