 | The battle of Niagara |  |
181
When all the western heaven was bright;
When, thronging down the far blue dome,
The sun in rolling clouds went home;—
There wandered to a goatherd's cot,
A youth—who sought to be forgot:
Who many a long and weary year
Had breathed his prayer and shed his tear.
Beneath his look of cloud was seen,
Somewhat, that told where fire had been;
For yet, a sorrowing beam was there:
A beam—in mockery of despair:
A beam that gave enough of light
To show his soul had set in night.
His step was slow—his form was bowed:
But yet his minstrel-air was proud:
Upon the mountain height he stood,
And looked abroad o'er wave and wood
Yet glowing with the blush of even,
182
With such a melancholy grace,
He seemed as thus he stood alone,
Like some young prince upon his throne—
The genius of the lofty place!
| The battle of Niagara | |