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Where Manitou once lived and reigned,
Great Spirit of a race gone by;
And Ontiora lies enchained,
With face uplifted to the sky.
The dream-land, too, of later days,
Where Rip Van Winkle slept in peace,
Wrapped up in deep poetic haze,
A twenty years of sweet release.
Ay, burning years! a nation's forge!
To wake to freedom grown to more;
To find another painted "George"
Above the old familiar door.
Through summer heat and winter snow,
Beside that rushing mountain stream,
Just how he slept we cannot know;
Perhaps 't was all a pleasant dream.
Mayhap in many a wintry squall,
Or howling blast, or blinding storm,
He thought he heard Dame Gretchen's call,
And that sufficed to keep him warm;
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