orm-torn plumes
Of old pine-forest kings,
Beneath whose century-woven shade
Deer Island's mistress sings."

[Illustration: DEER ISLAND AND CHAIN BRIDGE]

The Merrimac, beautiful as are its banks along its entire course,
nowhere presents more picturesque scenery than where it passes through
the deep valley it has worn for itself between the hills of Amesbury
and Newbury, and especially where its tidal current is parted by the
perpendicular cliffs of Deer Island. At this point the quaint old chain
bridge, built about a century ago, spans the stream. This island is the
home of Harriet Prescott Spofford, who is referred to in the stanza
just quoted. About forty years ago, it was proposed to build a summer
hotel on this island, which is four or five miles from the mouth of the
Merrimac. I have found among Mr. Whittier's papers an unfinished poem,
protesting against what he considered a desecration of this spot which
always had a great charm for him. It is likely that the reason why this
poem was never finished or published was because the project of
building a hotel was abandoned. I have taken the liberty to give as a
title for it "The Plaint of the Merrimac." As it was written in almost
undecipherable hieroglyphics, some of the words are conjectural:--

"I heard, methought, a murmur faint,
Our River making its complaint;
Complaining in its liquid way,
Thus it said, or seemed to say:

"'What 's all this pother on my banks--
Squinting eyes and pacing shanks--
Peeping, running, left and right,
With compass and theodolite?

"'Would they spoil this sacred place?
Blotch with paint its virgin face?
Do they--is it possible--
Do they dream of a hotel?

"'Match against my moonlight keen
Their tallow dip and kerosene?
Match their low walls, plaster-spread,
With my blue dome overhead?

"'Bring their hotel din and smell
Where my sweet winds blow so well,
And my birches dance and swing,
While my pines above them sing?

"'This puny mischief has its day,
But Nature's patient tasks alway
Begin where Art and Fashion stopped,
O'ergrow, and conquer, and adopt.

"'Still far as now my tide shall flow,
While age on age shall come and go,
Nor lack, through all the coming days,
The grateful song of human praise.'"

Before the chain bridge was built, a ferry was maintained at the mouth
of the Powow, a