University of Virginia Library

In gray Glen-Ample's forest deep,
Hid from the rains and tempests' sweep,
In bosom of an aged wood
His solitary cottage stood.
Its walls were bastioned, dark and dern,
Dark was its roof of filmot fern,
And dark the vista down the linn,
But all was love and peace within.
Religion, man's first friend and best,
Was in that home a constant guest;
There sweetly, every morn and even,
Warm orisons were poured to Heaven;
And every cliff Glen-Ample knew,
And greenwood on her banks that grew,
In answer to his bounding string,
Had learned the hymns of Heaven to sing,
With many a song of mystic lore,
Rude as when sung in days of yore.