 | The battle of Niagara |  |
Such is the awful light that plays
Around his steps! the meteor blaze
That goes before Destruction's path!
That follows the Destroyer's wrath,
When o'er the blessed earth are seen,
Their footsteps in the blasted green:
And pyramids and statues thrown
In ruin o'er the earth—o'ergrown
With savage garlands—living wreaths
Of creeping things—while poison breathes
From every chaplet—every crown—
And every wonder that is down—
As if in mockery of their power—
The dread immortals of an hour:
As in derision of their strength,
Thus prostrate—rent—and strown at length.
Such is that minstrel's memory yet;
The very page he should forget,
Of all the volume of his days,
Is ever opened in its blaze!
And all the rest is from his sight
Enveloped in eternal night!
The ruins of his hopes are seen,
And ruins only!—all the rest—
That in their days of light have been,
Are darkly shrouded in his breast.
Around his steps! the meteor blaze
That goes before Destruction's path!
That follows the Destroyer's wrath,
When o'er the blessed earth are seen,
Their footsteps in the blasted green:
And pyramids and statues thrown
In ruin o'er the earth—o'ergrown
With savage garlands—living wreaths
Of creeping things—while poison breathes
From every chaplet—every crown—
And every wonder that is down—
As if in mockery of their power—
The dread immortals of an hour:
As in derision of their strength,
Thus prostrate—rent—and strown at length.
Such is that minstrel's memory yet;
The very page he should forget,
Of all the volume of his days,
Is ever opened in its blaze!
And all the rest is from his sight
Enveloped in eternal night!
191
And ruins only!—all the rest—
That in their days of light have been,
Are darkly shrouded in his breast.
| The battle of Niagara | |