Montpelier

How fair, beneath Virginia's sky,Montpelier strikes the traveller's eye,Emerging from its forest-bower,Like feudal chieftain's ancient tower,With parks and lawns and gardens drest,In peaceful verdure proudly blest.

What blended beauties cheer the sight!The distant mountain's misty height,The nearer prospect's cultured face,The sylvan temple's attic grace,The locust copse, where warblers throng,And gaily pour the unfettered song,The flowers in bright profusion seen,The luscious fig's luxuriant green,The clasping vine, whose clusters fair,Seem as of genial France the care,

The bright-eyed pheasant, beauteous guest,The eastern bird with gorgeous vest,Still for his mimic speech carest,The curtaining jessamine, that showersRich fragrance o'er the nightly bowers,Those halls, whose varied stores impartThe classic pencil's magic art,The chisel's life-bestowing power,The lore that cheats the studious hour,And music's strains, that vainly vieWith the touched spirit's melody;How strong the tissued spells that bindThe admiring eye and grateful mind.

Here Wisdom rests in sylvan shade,That erst an empire's council's swayed.And Goodness, whose persuasive artSo justly won that empire's heart,And Piety, with hoary hair,Which rising o'er this Eden fair,Beholds, by mortal foot untrod,A brighter Eden with its God.

Montpelier! these thy name have setA gem in memory's coronet,Whose lustre ruthless time shall spareTill from her brow that crown he tear,Till from her book that page he rend,Which of a stranger made a friend.