3. 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in his hand,
Whose grasp at creation the universe spann'd;
'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime,
His vow from the flood to the exile of time;—
Not dreadful, as when in a whirlwind he pleads,
When storms are his chariot, and lightning his steeds,-
The black cloud of vengeance his banner unfurl'd,
And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world,-
In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire,
And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire,
And the sword and the plague-spot with death strew the plain,
And vultures and wolves are the graves of the slain :-
4. Not such was that rainbow, that beautiful one!
Whose arch was refraction, its key-stone-the sun;
A pavilion it seem'd with a deity graced,
And justice and mercy met there and embraced.
Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom,
Like love o'er a death-couch, or hope o'er the tomb;
Then left the dark scene, whence it slowly retired,
As love has just vanished, or hope had expired.
5 I gazed not alone on that source of my song;
To all who beheld it these verses belong;
Its presence to all was the path of the Lord!
Each full heart expanded, grew warm and adored.
Like a visit the converse of friends-or a day,
That bow from my sight pass'd forever away;
Like that visit, that converse, that day, to my heart,
That bow from remembrance can never depart.
'Tis a picture in mem'ry, distinctly defined,
With the strong and imperishing colors of mind :—
A part of my being beyond my control,
Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul.
The last Days of Autumn.
1. Now the growing year is over,
And the shepherd's tinkling bell,
Faintly from its winter cover,
Rings a low farewell:
Now the birds of Autumn shiver
Where the withered beach-leaves quiver,
O'er the dark and lazy river,
2. Now the mist is on the mountains,
Redd'ning in the rising sun;
Now the flowers around the fountains
Perish one by one:
Not a spire of grass is growing,
But the leaves that late were glowing,
Now its blighted green are strowing
With a mantle dun.
3. Now the torrent brook is stealing
Faintly down the furrowed glade-
Not as when in winter pealing,
Such a din it made,
That the sound of cataracts falling
Gave no echo so appalling,
As its hoarse and heavy brawling
In the pine's, black shade.
4. Darkly blue the mist is hovering
Round the clifted rock's bare height
All the bordering mountains covering
With a dim uncertain light
Now, a fresher wind prevailing,
Wide its heavy burden sailing,
Deepens as the day is failing,
Fast the gloom of night.
5. Slow the blood-stained moon is rising
Through the still and hazy air,
Like a sheeted spectre gliding
In a torch's glare:
Few the hours her light is given-
Mingling clouds of tempest driven
O'er the mourning face of heaven,
All is blackness there."
The sovereign sun behind his western hills
In glory hath declined. The mighty clouds
Kissed by his warm effulgence, hang around
In all their congregated hues of pride,
Like pillars of some tabernacle grand,
Worthy his glowing presence; while the sky,
Iliumin'd to its center, glows intense,
Changing his sapphire majesty to gold.
2. How deep is the tranquillity! the trees Are slumbering through their multitude of boughs, Even to the leaflet on the frailest twig!
A twilight gloom pervades the distant hills;
An azure softness mingling with the sky.
Then drags the fishman to the yellow shore
His laden nets; and, in the sheltering cove,
Behind yon rocky point, his shallop moors,
To tempt again the perilous deep at dawn.
3. The sea is waveless, as a lake ingulf'd
'Mid sheltering hills,—without a ripple spreads
Its bosom, silent and immense,-the hues
Of flickering day have from its surface died,
Leaving it garb'd in sunless majesty.
With bosoming branches round, yon village hangs It rows of lofty elm trees; silently,
Towering in spiral wreaths to the soft sky,
The smoke from many a cheerful hearth ascends, Melting in ether.
As I gaze, behold
The evening star illumines the blue south,
Twinkling in loveliness. O! holy star,
Thou bright dispenser of the twilight dews,
Thou herald of Night's glowing galaxy,
And harbinger of social bliss!—how oft,
Amid the twilights of departed years,
Resting beside the river's mirror clear,
On trunk of massy oak, with eyes upturn'd
To thee in admiration, have I sat,
Dreaming sweet dreams till earth-born turbulenc
Was all forgot; and thinking that in thee,
Far from the rudeness of this jarring world,
There might be realms of quiet happiness!
SECTION IV.
Niagara Falls.
1 TREMENDOUS torrent! for an instant hush
The terrors of thy voice, and cast aside
Those wide-involving shadows, that my eyes
May see the fearful beauty of thy face-
I am not all unworthy of thy sight;
For, from my very boyhood, have I loved-
Shunning the meaner track of common minds-
To look on nature in her loftier moods.
2. At the fierce rushing of the hurricaneAt the near bursting of the thunderbolt
I have been touched with joy; and, when the sea,
Lashed by the wind, hath rocked my bark, and showed
Its yawning caves beneath me, I have loved
Its dangers and the wrath of elements.
But never yet the madness of the sea
Hath moved me, as thy grandeur moves me now.
3. Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves
Grow broken 'midst the rocks; thy current then
Shoots onward, like the irresistible course
Of destiny. Ah! terrible thy rage!
The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain
Grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze
Upon the hurrying waters; and my sight
Vainly would follow, as toward the verge
Sweeps the wide torrent-waves innumerable
Meet there and madden-waves innumerable
Urge on and overtake the waves before,
And disappear in thunder and in foam.
4. They reach-they leap the barrier: the abyss Swallows, insatiable, the sinking waves.
A thousand rainbows arch them, and the woods
Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock
Shatters to vapor the descending sheets;
A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves
The mighty pyramid of circling mist
To heaven. The solitary hunter, near,
Pauses with terror in the forest shades.
5. God of all truth! in other lands I've seen
Lying philosophers, blaspheming men,
Questioners of thy mysteries, that draw
Their fellows deep into impiety;
And therefore doth my spirit seek thy face
In earth's majestic solitudes. Even here
My heart doth open all itself to thee.
In this immensity of loneliness
I feel thy hand upon me.
The eternal thunder of the cataract brings
Thy voice, and I am humbled as I hear.
6. Dread torrent! that with wonder and with fear
Dost overwhelm the soul of him that looks
Upon thee, and dost bear it from itself
Whence hast thou thy beginning? Who supplies
Age after age, thy unexhausted springs?
What power hath ordered, that, when all thy weight
Descends into the deep, the swollen waves
Rise not, and roll to overwhelm the earth?
7. The Lord hath opened his omnipotent hand,
Covered thy face with clouds, and given his voice
To thy down-rushing waters; he hath girt
Thy terrible forehead with his radiant bow.
I see thy never-resting waters run,
And I bethink me how the tide of time
Sweeps to eternity. So pass off man-
Pass-like a noon-day dream-the blossoming days,
And he awakes to sorrow.
8. Hear, dread Niagara! my latest voice. Yet a few years, and the cold earth shall close Over the bones of him who sings thee now
Thus feelingly. Would that this, my humble verse,
Might be, like thee, immortal. I, meanwhile,
Cheerfully passing to the appointed rest,
Might rise my radiant forehead in the clouds,
To listen to the echoes of my fame.
1. ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
2. But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.
3. By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd,
To join the dreadful revelry.
4. Then shook the hills with thunder riven.
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.
5. And redder yet those fires shall glow,
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow.
And darker yet shall be the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
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