The legendary consisting of original pieces, principally illustrative of American history, scenery, and manners |
 |
THE HUDSON. |
 | THE HUDSON. The legendary |  |
127
THE HUDSON.
BY H. PICKERING.
Imperial Flood! on thy romantic banks
I waked to life and joy; but ah! too soon
Was exiled thence; and now, when the soft morn
Which shed its rosy light upon my youth
Is past, and gathering clouds involve the day,
I come a weary wanderer to thy brink
To kiss thy wave. Oh! would to Heaven that thou
Wert still the same as when my infant eyes
Unconsciously upon thy waters gazed—
And I unaltered too! Half that warm prayer,
Sighing, I well may breathe; but can a few
Swift circling suns in thee produce a change?
As proudly onward roll thy waves to-day,
As when a thousand years ago they poured
Their tribute to the sea; but where are now
Thine ancient honors? where thy wood-crowned heights?
Thy sylvan banks umbrageous?—He who first
Into thy trackless deep dared urge his prow,
And saw shoot like a meteor o'er thy tide,
The Indian skiff, and wild eyes peering out
The densest shades—beheld thee, Mighty Stream!
In all thy grandeur. Mountains that beneath
Thy undiscoverable depths extend
Their giant feet, then far in the blue heavens
Precipitous rose with their incumbent woods;
And lofty verdurous tufts, more beautiful
Than aigret upon Soldan's diadem,
I waked to life and joy; but ah! too soon
Was exiled thence; and now, when the soft morn
Which shed its rosy light upon my youth
Is past, and gathering clouds involve the day,
I come a weary wanderer to thy brink
To kiss thy wave. Oh! would to Heaven that thou
Wert still the same as when my infant eyes
Unconsciously upon thy waters gazed—
And I unaltered too! Half that warm prayer,
Sighing, I well may breathe; but can a few
Swift circling suns in thee produce a change?
As proudly onward roll thy waves to-day,
As when a thousand years ago they poured
Their tribute to the sea; but where are now
Thine ancient honors? where thy wood-crowned heights?
Thy sylvan banks umbrageous?—He who first
Into thy trackless deep dared urge his prow,
And saw shoot like a meteor o'er thy tide,
The Indian skiff, and wild eyes peering out
The densest shades—beheld thee, Mighty Stream!
In all thy grandeur. Mountains that beneath
Thy undiscoverable depths extend
Their giant feet, then far in the blue heavens
Precipitous rose with their incumbent woods;
And lofty verdurous tufts, more beautiful
Than aigret upon Soldan's diadem,
128
Crowned each bold crag; while from thy northern founts
E'en to the ocean's brim, dark forests spread,
Which, waving with the breeze of even or morn,
Alternate threw their broad continuous shade
O'er half thy watery realm. Look now abroad!
For lo! o'er all the rich productive glebe,
Upland or champaign smooth, where towered superb
The vegetable kings, cedar, and larch,
And fir, and statelier oak—all that e'er bloomed,
Or yet shall bloom in song—the procreant power
Of cultivation reigns, and virgin fields
That never drank the sun, with harvests wave,
On the slant hill the orchard slow matures
The golden apple, and the trees of climes
Far distant, while they yield a penury
Of shade, shower fruits and blossoms o'er the land.
Mutation strange! by other eyes than mine
Careless beheld; and by the aid alone
Of thine, indulgent Fancy, now revealed.
Yet must I love ye still, my native banks,
And still admire; and thou, Exuberant Flood!
That laugh'st to see wild-bounding from above
Thy mountain torrents, and, to thy embrace,
Through tangled thicket and through secret dell,
Lurest every bashful and pellucid stream—
How dost thou win my heart! Thy shores, indeed,
Have been despoiled; and bowing 'neath the axe,
Trees that for ages on thy mist-robed hills
Had borne their leafy glories in mid heaven,
Have thundered to the vales. But shall not man
Grow wise? for nature, with maternal care,
A tenderer growth has reared; and many a grove,
The sacred relic of our ancient woods,
Still sees itself depictured in thy wave.
E'en to the ocean's brim, dark forests spread,
Which, waving with the breeze of even or morn,
Alternate threw their broad continuous shade
O'er half thy watery realm. Look now abroad!
For lo! o'er all the rich productive glebe,
Upland or champaign smooth, where towered superb
The vegetable kings, cedar, and larch,
And fir, and statelier oak—all that e'er bloomed,
Or yet shall bloom in song—the procreant power
Of cultivation reigns, and virgin fields
That never drank the sun, with harvests wave,
On the slant hill the orchard slow matures
The golden apple, and the trees of climes
Far distant, while they yield a penury
Of shade, shower fruits and blossoms o'er the land.
Mutation strange! by other eyes than mine
Careless beheld; and by the aid alone
Of thine, indulgent Fancy, now revealed.
Yet must I love ye still, my native banks,
And still admire; and thou, Exuberant Flood!
That laugh'st to see wild-bounding from above
Thy mountain torrents, and, to thy embrace,
Through tangled thicket and through secret dell,
Lurest every bashful and pellucid stream—
How dost thou win my heart! Thy shores, indeed,
Have been despoiled; and bowing 'neath the axe,
Trees that for ages on thy mist-robed hills
Had borne their leafy glories in mid heaven,
Have thundered to the vales. But shall not man
Grow wise? for nature, with maternal care,
A tenderer growth has reared; and many a grove,
The sacred relic of our ancient woods,
Still sees itself depictured in thy wave.
129
And yet, Majestic River! should the blast
Of desolation sweep thy utmost bounds,
E'en then, amid the waste, thou must possess
Enduring grandeur. Now, two glorious forms,
Beauty and Majesty, o'er thee preside
Inseparable; and, whether the morn
Silvers thy waves, or with the setting sun
They glow with crimson—whether calm, or lashed
By tempests into foam—thou hast for me
Inimitable charms. But when the moon
Lifts her bright circlet o'er yon shadowy hills,
And wraps thee in her light, while not a breath
Steals o'er thy waters, and night's mantle falls
Upon the woods, and deepest solitude
And silence reign, and heaven and earth seem drawn
Insensibly to each—how is my soul
To ecstasy then kindled! Brighter scenes,
And varied more, with the first beams of day,
Flash on the eye. Then restless life awakes;
The husbandman elated hies afield;
Wanton the flocks upon the green hill side,
And mount and valley ring. Far o'er the plains,
In every dell, and on each gentle slope,
Its modest front some peaceful cot uprears;
Bosomed in trees, upon the broad flood's marge,
The ambitious villa stands; and hamlets, towns
And cities stretch along the extended shores,
While with light wings, as if with life endued,
Swift o'er the wave the graceful shallop glides;
And ever and anon, breasting the surge
With a resistless might, comes rushing by
Some ark magnificent—to every eye
A form of wonder—and by power occult,
Reckless of winds and tide, urged through the deep!
The praise, immortal Fulton! be to thee;
Of desolation sweep thy utmost bounds,
E'en then, amid the waste, thou must possess
Enduring grandeur. Now, two glorious forms,
Beauty and Majesty, o'er thee preside
Inseparable; and, whether the morn
Silvers thy waves, or with the setting sun
They glow with crimson—whether calm, or lashed
By tempests into foam—thou hast for me
Inimitable charms. But when the moon
Lifts her bright circlet o'er yon shadowy hills,
And wraps thee in her light, while not a breath
Steals o'er thy waters, and night's mantle falls
Upon the woods, and deepest solitude
And silence reign, and heaven and earth seem drawn
Insensibly to each—how is my soul
To ecstasy then kindled! Brighter scenes,
And varied more, with the first beams of day,
Flash on the eye. Then restless life awakes;
The husbandman elated hies afield;
Wanton the flocks upon the green hill side,
And mount and valley ring. Far o'er the plains,
In every dell, and on each gentle slope,
Its modest front some peaceful cot uprears;
Bosomed in trees, upon the broad flood's marge,
The ambitious villa stands; and hamlets, towns
And cities stretch along the extended shores,
While with light wings, as if with life endued,
Swift o'er the wave the graceful shallop glides;
And ever and anon, breasting the surge
With a resistless might, comes rushing by
Some ark magnificent—to every eye
A form of wonder—and by power occult,
Reckless of winds and tide, urged through the deep!
The praise, immortal Fulton! be to thee;
130
For though my country still with coldness lists
The claim of gratitude to thee and thine,
Science and Poesy shall aye delight
To crown thy bust with never fading bays.
But now, while yet the invigorating breeze
Flies o'er the hills, yon steepy way attempt
With foot adventurous, and exulting climb
The mountain's brow; or, if the toilsome path
Deter, on bright Imagination's wing
Ascend the towering Kaatskill, and through fields
Of heaven let the charmed sight excursive range.
Behold! the summit gained, the ravished soul
Breathing etherial air, feels its fine powers
Dilate, in thought yet soars, and meditates
A loftier flight. But to itself recalled,
With what ineffable delight the eye,
Yet heavenward turned, surveys the clear blue vault
And stainless ether! For, O wonder! see
The billowy clouds convolved below thy feet,
And thou as if upon a lonely isle
Amid the storm-rocked sea! And tumult wild
And storm are there; and hark! the thunder roars;
And yet another and a louder peal!
And lo! the winged lightning! how it darts
Athwart the shadowy deep! Flash after flash
Succeeds; and now 't is night beneath, and now
Insufferable day! The affrighted earth
Trembling beholds, and from her thousand hills
Sends back the thunder's note. At length 't is o'er!
The storm is lulled to peace; and day's glad beams
Piercing the gloom, effulgent looks the sky,
And renovated nature smiles serene.
Bright, glorious view! See where the land extends
On this side and on that, boundless as air;
The claim of gratitude to thee and thine,
Science and Poesy shall aye delight
To crown thy bust with never fading bays.
But now, while yet the invigorating breeze
Flies o'er the hills, yon steepy way attempt
With foot adventurous, and exulting climb
The mountain's brow; or, if the toilsome path
Deter, on bright Imagination's wing
Ascend the towering Kaatskill, and through fields
Of heaven let the charmed sight excursive range.
Behold! the summit gained, the ravished soul
Breathing etherial air, feels its fine powers
Dilate, in thought yet soars, and meditates
A loftier flight. But to itself recalled,
With what ineffable delight the eye,
Yet heavenward turned, surveys the clear blue vault
And stainless ether! For, O wonder! see
The billowy clouds convolved below thy feet,
And thou as if upon a lonely isle
Amid the storm-rocked sea! And tumult wild
And storm are there; and hark! the thunder roars;
And yet another and a louder peal!
And lo! the winged lightning! how it darts
Athwart the shadowy deep! Flash after flash
Succeeds; and now 't is night beneath, and now
Insufferable day! The affrighted earth
Trembling beholds, and from her thousand hills
Sends back the thunder's note. At length 't is o'er!
The storm is lulled to peace; and day's glad beams
Piercing the gloom, effulgent looks the sky,
And renovated nature smiles serene.
Bright, glorious view! See where the land extends
On this side and on that, boundless as air;
131
Till the far hills, blending their soft blue tints
With the sky's azure, seem to mix and lose
Themselves in heaven. Within the ample round—
Save the vast central ridge on which thou stand'st,
And here and there an isolated mount—
All seems a smooth, extended plain, where each
Soft vale and gentle eminence, outspread
And level to the eye, with vivid green
Resplendent shine; while through the midst, stretched out
In longitude immense, the river streams
In one bright line to the far distant main.
Oh! that the Muse could aye attune her lyre
Mid rural scenes, and that war's clarion hoarse
Were never heard! But in no distant times
These banks, so peaceful now, by hostile feet
Were trod. The red man fought, and is at rest.
He fought, and in a noble cause—not so
Our elder brothers. Free themselves, they aimed,
O strange! to forge for us, even heirs alike
Of freedom, the indissoluble chain.
Then mortal Hatred swelled! and Battle reared
His sanguine crest; and fields were won and lost;
But soon a memorable day arrived,
Whose close even distant realms beheld with awe;
When Saratoga's echoing hills proclaimed
In voice of thunder, `Victory is ours!'
Ah! hush that note of triumph; can it chill
The vanquished, or the conquering host once more
Arouse? Both sleep forgotten!—Yet not all
Whose hearts were fired in freedom's cause may rest
Inglorious. Washington, whose patriot zeal,
Consummate prudence, and exalted soul,
Were all devoted to his country's weal,
In cloudless splendor through all time shall live;
With the sky's azure, seem to mix and lose
Themselves in heaven. Within the ample round—
Save the vast central ridge on which thou stand'st,
And here and there an isolated mount—
All seems a smooth, extended plain, where each
Soft vale and gentle eminence, outspread
And level to the eye, with vivid green
Resplendent shine; while through the midst, stretched out
In longitude immense, the river streams
In one bright line to the far distant main.
Oh! that the Muse could aye attune her lyre
Mid rural scenes, and that war's clarion hoarse
Were never heard! But in no distant times
These banks, so peaceful now, by hostile feet
Were trod. The red man fought, and is at rest.
He fought, and in a noble cause—not so
Our elder brothers. Free themselves, they aimed,
O strange! to forge for us, even heirs alike
Of freedom, the indissoluble chain.
Then mortal Hatred swelled! and Battle reared
His sanguine crest; and fields were won and lost;
But soon a memorable day arrived,
Whose close even distant realms beheld with awe;
When Saratoga's echoing hills proclaimed
In voice of thunder, `Victory is ours!'
Ah! hush that note of triumph; can it chill
The vanquished, or the conquering host once more
Arouse? Both sleep forgotten!—Yet not all
Whose hearts were fired in freedom's cause may rest
Inglorious. Washington, whose patriot zeal,
Consummate prudence, and exalted soul,
Were all devoted to his country's weal,
In cloudless splendor through all time shall live;
132
While he, the Child of Glory! whose young brow
Immortal Wisdom stooped from heaven to crown—
Whose death surprised a nation into tears—
With that great name henceforth forever linked,
A like resplendant destiny will share.
But whither am I led? Return, my Muse,
Nor deem it alien from the theme, that thou,
The Emporium of this Bright New World, shouldst claim
One parting strain. How wondrous is thy rise!
But yesterday thou wast not; now thy port—
By the green isles encircled, and through which
The Hudson ceaseless rolls his mighty flood—
Is thronged with fleets innumerous! Say, what power,
What wizard's art hath called thee from the deep,
And compassed thee with glory round about?
How like a queen on her imperial throne
Thou look'st! nor less than regal is thy wealth—
From various foreign lands and from thine own
Poured in, profuse. Oh! marvellous result
Of industry with enterprise combined,
And kindly intercourse with other climes!
Who may the future scan? What eye can read
Thy distant fortunes, Empress of the West?
Lo! in the magic mirror I uphold,
Thou seest thy ripening greatness; wide thy bounds
Extend, temples and palaces arise,
Arts flourish, and the pomp of luxury
Rolls through thy gorgeous streets. But in the heavens
Behold the appalling sign! and on it writ
In characters of fire—`Carthage is not,
Nor Tyre, nor Sidon—and their fate is thine!'
Immortal Wisdom stooped from heaven to crown—
Whose death surprised a nation into tears—
With that great name henceforth forever linked,
A like resplendant destiny will share.
But whither am I led? Return, my Muse,
Nor deem it alien from the theme, that thou,
The Emporium of this Bright New World, shouldst claim
One parting strain. How wondrous is thy rise!
But yesterday thou wast not; now thy port—
By the green isles encircled, and through which
The Hudson ceaseless rolls his mighty flood—
Is thronged with fleets innumerous! Say, what power,
What wizard's art hath called thee from the deep,
And compassed thee with glory round about?
How like a queen on her imperial throne
Thou look'st! nor less than regal is thy wealth—
From various foreign lands and from thine own
Poured in, profuse. Oh! marvellous result
Of industry with enterprise combined,
And kindly intercourse with other climes!
Who may the future scan? What eye can read
Thy distant fortunes, Empress of the West?
Lo! in the magic mirror I uphold,
Thou seest thy ripening greatness; wide thy bounds
Extend, temples and palaces arise,
Arts flourish, and the pomp of luxury
Rolls through thy gorgeous streets. But in the heavens
Behold the appalling sign! and on it writ
In characters of fire—`Carthage is not,
Nor Tyre, nor Sidon—and their fate is thine!'
| THE HUDSON. The legendary | |