And here nerhans. when Boone
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Stole from the dusky forest, and, at night, Glazed on the sweeping river, here he kept His lonely yigils pleasantly, or slept, Dreaming the dream of home, and woke with

 fright, To eonjure yells of Indians on the height, From the nocturnal tune Of boding owl or night-hawk, fitting in the

 moon,