From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, XXXV)

Hark! in the troubled West what means this roar?
Like forests in a storm’s tremendous glee,
Or like the waves on dread Atlantic’s shore,
It rolls and breaks around Mickanopy!
Oh! what hath roused this angry human sea?
Why howls the waste in such unwonted throes?
What rends the bosom of tranquillity?
The loud, resistless onset of fierce foes,
Startles a peaceful land and breaks its deep repose!