 | The battle of Niagara |  |
The tempting precipice was hidden;
The angels of the storm forbidden
To strive upon his wasting frame—
The powers of air! enrobed in flame—
Whose thrones are everlasting hills,
Whose army all creation fills:
Who ride upon the roaring main;
And listen to the battle strain;
The thunders of the deep, and song
Of trumpets bursting all along,
When streamers flash, and banners blaze,
And tall plumes bow, and lightning strays
O'er Ocean's dull-blue billows;
And far amid the clouds are seen,
Young angels' hands, that twine the green
Of laurels dripping gallant blood,
With sea-weed from the stormy flood,
And thunder-blasted willows.
The angels of the storm forbidden
To strive upon his wasting frame—
The powers of air! enrobed in flame—
Whose thrones are everlasting hills,
Whose army all creation fills:
Who ride upon the roaring main;
And listen to the battle strain;
The thunders of the deep, and song
Of trumpets bursting all along,
When streamers flash, and banners blaze,
And tall plumes bow, and lightning strays
193
And far amid the clouds are seen,
Young angels' hands, that twine the green
Of laurels dripping gallant blood,
With sea-weed from the stormy flood,
And thunder-blasted willows.
| The battle of Niagara | |