STANZAS,
WRITTEN WHILE SAILING THROUGH THE DELAWARE WATER-GAP.
Onward with gliding swiftness
Our light bark cleaves the deep;
The billow dances in our wake
As down the tide we sweep.
The broad high cliffs above us
Like giant columns stand;
As in their grandeur stationed there
The guardians of the land.
Yon purple clouds are drooping
Their banners from on high,
And brightly through their waving folds
Gleams forth the azure sky.
Sunset’s rich beams are tinting
The mountain’s lofty crest;
Yet fails their golden light to reach
The silent river’s breast.
The eagle soars around us;
His home is on the height
To which with eager, upward wing,
He shoots in airy flight.
The rough night blast high o’er us
Assails the beetling verge;
And through the forest’s tangled depths
Murmurs like ocean’s surge:
The foliage trembles to his breath,
The massive timbers groan—
But we, his might defying, pass
In sheltered silence on.
Onward! dim night is gathering;
Those gilded summits fade—
And darkly from the thickets brown
Extends the deepening shade.
It shrouds us, but we pause not;—
With light and graceful sweep,
Shadowy and swift, our vessel breaks
The waters’ glassy sleep.
Their rocky barrier past at length,
We feel the cool fresh air:
Yon light is beaming from our home,
And welcome waits us there.