The little fall, with width of seventy-three,
Will tell whence Neptune feeds his hungry sea.
Tumbling one hundred sixty feet, they all
Make one loud groaning in Niagara Fall.
Thick hov’ring mists in mountain vapours rise,
Bright colour’d rainbows gild the azure skies.
The dazzled eye, fill’d with the novel blaze
Beholds, astonished, their refracted rays.
Nor ends the awful scene, till down the view,
Through the dark gulf, these boiling floods pursue.