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OUR ABORIGINES.
��I HEARD the forests as they cried
Unto the valleys green, " Where is the red-brow'd hunter race,
Who lov'd our leafy screen P Who humbled 'mid these dewy glades
The red deer's antler 'd crown ? Or soaring at his highest noon,
Struck the strong eagle down ? "
Then in the zephyr's voice replied
Those vales, so meekly blest, " They rear'd their dwellings on our side,
Their corn upon our breast ; A blight came down, a blast swept by,
The cone-roofd cabins fell, And where that exil'd people fled,
It is not ours to tell."
Niagara, of the mountains grey, Demanded, from his throne,
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