I do not wonder that the "stream of his fathers" should be ever so favorite a theme with the poet, and that wherever he has sung its praise, the spot should henceforth be as classic ground. Wherever some "gently rolling river" has whispered its soft murmurs to the recording muse, its name has been linked with his; and far as that name may extend, is the beauty of that inspiring streamlet appreciated.
Helicon and Castalia are more frequently referred to than Parnassus,—and even the small streams of hilly Scotland, are renowned wherever the songs of her poet "are said or sung." "The banks and braes o' bonny Doon," are duly applauded in the drawing-rooms of America; and the Tweed, the "clear winding Devon," the "braes of Ayr," the "braes o' Ballochmyle," and the "sweet Afton," so often the theme of his lays, for his "Mary's asleep by its murmuring stream," are names even here quite as familiar, perhaps more so, than our own broad and beauteous rivers. Such is the hallowing power of Genius; and upon whatever spot she may cast her bright unfading mantle, there is forever stamped the impress of beauty.
"The Bard of Avon" is an honorary title wherever our language is read; and though we may have few streams which have as yet been sacred to the muse, yet time will doubtless bring forth those whose genius shall make the Indian cognomens of our noble rivers' names associated with all that is lofty in intellect and beautiful in poetry.
The Merrimac has already received the grateful tribute of praise from the muse of the New England poet; and well does it merit the encomiums which he has bestowed upon it. It is a beautiful river, from the time when its blue waters start on their joyous course, leaving "the smile of the Great Spirit," to wind through many a vale, and round many a hill, till they mingle
"With ocean's dark eternal tide."
I have said that I have seen but few rivers. No! never have I stood
"Where Hudson rolls his lordly flood;
Seen sunrise rest, and sunset fade
Along his frowning palisade;
Looked down the Appalachian peak
On Juniata's silver streak;
Or seen along his valley gleam
The Mohawk's softly winding stream;
The setting sun, his axle red
Quench darkly in Potomac's bed;
And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner
Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna;"—
but I still imagine that all their beauties are concentrated in the blue waters of the Merrimac—not as it appears here, where, almost beneath my factory window, its broad tide moves peacefully along; but where by "Salisbury's beach of shining sand," it rolls amidst far lovelier scenes, and with more rapid flow. Perhaps it is because it is my river that I think it so beautiful—no matter if it is; there is a great source of gratification in the feeling of whatever is in any way connected with our humble selves is on that account invested with some distinctive charm, and in some mysterious way rendered peculiarly lovely.
But even to the stranger's eye, if he have any taste for the beautiful in nature, the charms of the banks of the Merrimac would not be disregarded. Can there be a more beautiful bend in a river, than that which it makes at Salisbury Point? It is one of the most picturesque scenes, at all events, which I have ever witnessed. Stand for a moment upon the drawbridge which spans with its single arch the spot where "the winding Powow" joins his sparkling waters with the broad tide of the receiving river. We will suppose it is a summer morning. The thin white mist from the Atlantic, which the night-spirit has thrown, like a bridal veil, over the vale and river, is gently lifted by Aurora, and the unshrouded waters blush "celestial rosy red" at the exposure of their own loveliness. But the bright flush is soon gone, and as the sun rides higher in the heavens, the millions of little wavelets don their diamond crowns, and rise, and sink, and leap, and dance rejoicingly together; and while their sparkling brilliancy arrests the eye, their murmurs of delight are no less grateful to the ear. The grove upon the Newbury side is already vocal with the morning anthems of the feathered choir, and from the maple, oak, and pine is rising one glad peal of melody. The slight fragrance of the kalmia, or American laurel, which flourishes here in much profusion, is borne upon the morning breeze; and when their roseate umbels are opened to the sun, they "sing to the eye," as their less stationary companions have done to the ear.
The road which accompanies the river in its beauteous curve, is soon alive with the active laborers of "Salisbury shore;" and soon the loud "Heave-ho!" of the ship-builders is mingled with the more mellifluous tones which have preceded them. The other busy inhabitants are soon threading the winding street, and as they glance upon their bright and beauteous river, their breasts swell with emotions of pleasure, though in their constant and active bustle, they may seldom pause to analyze the cause. The single sail of the sloop which has lain so listless at the little wharf, and the double one of the schooner which is about to traverse its way to the ocean, are unfurled to the morning wind, and the loud orders of the bustling skipper, and the noisy echoes of his bustling men, are borne upon the dewy breeze, and echoed from the Newbury slopes. Soon they are riding upon the bright waters, and the little skiff or wherry is also seen darting about, amidst the rolling diamonds, while here and there a heavy laden "gundelow" moves slowly along, "with sure and steady aim," as though it disdained the pastime of its livelier neighbors.