But nothing, with romantic zest,
Created such deep interest,
As when the Western wilds they draw,
Describe those ancient Forts they saw,
And those huge Mounds where, buried, lie
Secrets of dark antiquity,
So deep that fancy checks her flight,
Consigning to Oblivion's night
Those wonders of the olden dead,
That speak, beneath our silent tread,
Of Nations perished…