St. Lawrence and the Saguenay, The - Part 68

E BOULLEMENS sleeps serenely in the arms
Of the Maternal hill, upon whose breast
It lies, like a sweet, infant soul, whose charms
Fill some fond mother's bosom with that rest
Caused by the presence of a heavenly guest.
How coyly — close — it nestles! how retired,
Half conscious of its charms, and half oppress'd,
As with a blushing sense of being admired;
As modest as a gem, with gem-like beauty fired.
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