These happy regions must forever rest, Of man unseen, by native beasts possest; And the best heritage my sons could boast Illude their search in far dim deserts lost, For see, no ship can point her pendants here, No stream conducts nor ocean wanders near; Frost, crags and cataracts their north invest, And the tired sun scarce finds their bounds awest.
"The Columbiad"
Joel Barlow