Samuel Woodworth

’TIS done, ’tis done! The mighty chain

Which joins bright Erie to the Main,

For ages shall perpetuate

The glory of our native State.

’Tis done! The monarch of the briny tide,

Whose giant arm encircles earth,

To virgin Erie is allied,

A bright-eyed nymph of mountain birth.

Rising from their watery cells

Tritons sport upon the tide,

And gaily blow their trumpet-shells

In honour of the bride.

Sea-nymphs leave their coral caves,

Deep beneath the ocean waves,

Where they string with tasteful care

Pearls upon their sea-green hair.

Thetis’ virgin train advances,

Mingling in the bridal dances;

Jove himself with raptured eye

Throws his forkèd thunders by,

And bids Apollo seize his golden lyre,

A strain of joy to wake;

While Fame proclaims that Ocean’s Sire

Is wedded to the goddess of the Lake.

The smiling god of song obeys

And heaven re-echoes with his sounding lays.