Through the dark night urging our rapid way
We listen to a low, continued sound,
As of a distant drum calling to arms.
It grows with our approach; lulls with the breeze,
And swells again into a bolder note,
Like an Æolian harp of giant string.
Again, the tone is changed, and a fierce roar
Of tumult rises from the trembling earth,
As if the imprisoned spirits of the deep
Had found a vent for that rebellious shout,
Which from ten thousand lips ascends to Heaven.
Voice not to be mistaken—even he
Upon whose ear it comes for the first time
Claims it as known, and bringing to his heart
The boldest fancies of his early days—
Thy thunders, dread Niagara, day and night,
Which vary not their ever-during peal.
Burning impatience, not to be controlled,
Has hurried on my steps until I stand
Within the breath of thy descending wave.
The night conceals thy wonders, but enrobes
Thee with a grandeur, wild, mysterious,
As with thy spray around me, and the wind
Which rushes upward from thy dark abyss,
And thy deep organ pealing in my ear,
Thy mass is all unseen, and I behold
Only the ghost-like whiteness of thy foam.
The morning comes. The clouds have disappeared,
And the clear silver of the eastern sky
Gives promise of a glowing summer sun.
In the fresh dawn, I hasten to the rock
Which overhangs the ever-boiling deep,
And all the wonders of Niagara
Are spread before me—not the simple dash
Of falling waters, which the fancy drew,
But myriad forms of beautiful and grand
Press on the senses and o'erwhelm the mind.
Yon bright, broad waters on their channel sleep
As if they dreamed of the most peaceful flow
To the far-distant sea. But now their course
Accelerates on their inclining path,
Though still 'tis with the appearance of a calm
And dignified reluctance, and the wave
Remains unbroken, till the inward force
Increasingly silently, like that which breaks
The short laborious quiet of the insane,
Bursts all restraint, and the wild waters, tossed
In fiercest tumult, uncontrollable,
Menace all life within their giant grasp;
Leaping and raging in their frantic glee,
Dashing their spray aloft, as on they rush
In wild confusion to the dreadful steep.
An instant on the verge they seem to pause,
As if, even in their frenzy, such a gulf
Were horrible, then slowly bending down,
Plunge headlong where the never-ceasing roar
Ascends, and the revolving clouds of spray,
Forever during yet forever new.
The sun appears. And, straightway, on the cloud
Which veils the struggles of the fallen wave
In everlasting secrecy, and wafts
Away, like smoke of incense, up to Heaven,
Beams forth the radiant diadem of light,
Brilliant and fixed amid the moving mass;
And beauty comes to deck the glorious scene.
For as the horizontal sunbeams rest
Upon the deep blue summit, or unfold
The varying hues of green, that pass away
Into the white of the descending foam,
So colors of the loveliest rainbow dye
Tinge the bright wave, nor lessen aught its pride,
Now joyous companies of fair and young
Come lightly forth, with voice of social glee,
But, one by one, as they approach the brink,
A change comes over them. The noisy laugh
Is hushed, the step is soft and reverent,
And the light jest is quenched in solemn thought—
Yea, dull must be his brain and cold his heart
To all the sacred influences that spring
From grandeur and from beauty, who can gaze,
For the first time, on the descending flood
Without restraint upon the flippant tongue.
If such the reverence Great Invisible,
Attendant on one of thy lesser works,
What dread must overwhelm us when the eye
Is opened to the glories of thyself,
Who sway'st the moving universe and holdst
The "waters in the hollow of thy hand."
SONNET.
BY CAROLINE F. ORNE.
There have been tones of cheer, and voices gay,
And careless laughter ringing lightly by,
And I have listened to wit's mirthful play,
And sought to smile at each light fantasy.
But ah, there was a voice more deep and clear,
That I alone might hear of all the throng,
In softest cadence falling on my ear
Like a sweet undertone amid the song.
And then I longed for this calm hour of night,
That undisturbed by any voice or sound,
My spirit from all meaner objects free
Might soar unchecked in its far upward flight,
And by no cord, no heavy fetter bound,
Scorning all space and distance, hold commune with thee.