DIOS TE DE.[1]

In the green and shadowy woodpath, Where the Fly-bird's[2] golden hue, Like a shower of broken fire, Lights the forests of Peru, 'Mid primeval sward and tree, Lives the bird, Dios Te De. There the Indian hunter roaming Softly through the massive shade, By the Laurel and Cinchona And the thick-leaved Balsam made, Halts beneath the canopy At the sounds, Dios Te De. And the bow unbent reposes, And the poisoned arrows rest, And a gush of solemn feeling Thrills with awe the savage breast, While the bird unharmed and free Rocks and sings, Dios Te De. If the name of God thus dropping From the preacher of the wild, In the solitude of Nature, Wraps with awe the forest child,— What a meaning deep have we In the bird, Dios Te De!