Of the grandeur of the Catskills at sunrise; of the patriotic blazon which our bonfire made on the Fourth, at evening; of the Falls, and certain pecuniary trickeries connected with their grim majesty, and a general digest of the stupendous scene, shall these not be discoursed hereafter, and in truthful wise? Yea, reader, verily, and from the note-book of thine, faithful to the end,
Ollapod.
[TO THE NEW MOON.]
Fair gem on the dark brow of night,
Fancy springs up, exulting, to greet thee;
But purer than thine is the light
Of the eye smiling gladly to meet me.
It is glowing—thy crescent, late pale,
Is glowing, like spray on the ocean:
But lovelier far, through its veil,
Steals the light of Love's secret emotion.
New-York, August, 1837.
James F. Otis.