 | The genius of oblivion ; and Other Original Poems |  |
CANTO FIRST.
The freshening breeze o'er ocean blew,
And curling vapors upward drew,
As morn, in robe of misty grey,
Peep'd forth—the harbinger of day:
The sea-fowl rais'd her plaintive cry,
And coursed the wave in circles high;
Or dashed the flood, her prey to gain—
Her toils, like human, often vain.
The fisherman trill'd his merry lay;
No cares disturb his active day;
And labor roused the village train,
And shook his unshorn locks again.
The flowers, that droop with nightly fears,
A kiss of Sol soon dries their tears;
And all is fresh and fair to see,
As smiles on lip of infancy;—
E'en sickness lifts her cheek, so pale,
And fancies health may wing the gale;
And scarce a heart so cold, forlorn,
That glows not with the glow of morn.
And curling vapors upward drew,
As morn, in robe of misty grey,
Peep'd forth—the harbinger of day:
The sea-fowl rais'd her plaintive cry,
And coursed the wave in circles high;
Or dashed the flood, her prey to gain—
Her toils, like human, often vain.
The fisherman trill'd his merry lay;
No cares disturb his active day;
And labor roused the village train,
And shook his unshorn locks again.
The flowers, that droop with nightly fears,
A kiss of Sol soon dries their tears;
10
As smiles on lip of infancy;—
E'en sickness lifts her cheek, so pale,
And fancies health may wing the gale;
And scarce a heart so cold, forlorn,
That glows not with the glow of morn.
Beneath an oak, with thoughtful eye,
Young Ormond watch'd the kindling sky
And there on many a morn was he,
And still, as if 'twere novelty,
He dwelt with that unsated gaze,
Which, far more eloquent than praise,
Pours the beholder's spirit forth,
E'er thought can yield to language birth;
Till, from th' enthusiastic tone,
Each movement of the mind is known.
And Ormond's was a figure fine,
That Grecian artists might design;
His features, too, their skill might reach,
And all of manly beauty teach;
But, even should Appelles dare
To throw the soul's expression there;
Those quick and varying turns that show
How passions melt, or feelings glow—
Oh, he would fail, unless 'twere given,
To blend his dyes with breath of heaven!
Yet neighbors call'd him “truant boy,”
“Who spurn'd control, and scorn'd employ;”
Because no trifling play or jest
E'er gave his boyish pleasures zest;—
The lonely ramble he preferr'd,
Where human voice was never heard;
With eager step, and wild delight,
He climb'd the mountain's dizzy height;
Or days, beside the glassy brook,
He lay and watch'd his floating hook;
Yet still, when to repay his toil,
He chanc'd to snare the finny spoil,
With sympathy he mark'd its pain,
And cast the struggler home again.
Then would he choose some curious flower,
Peruse its texture, try its power,
Study its use, and trace design,
Th' impression of the Power divine.
And to that One all great, all good,
His spirit only bowed, subdued!
His fellow men, for much he thought
On man,—his end and duty sought
But saw him stoop from aims divine
Saws reason kneel at folly's shrine;
And fair integrity give place
To bribes, or fawns, or cunning base;
And vice and ignorance parade,
Whilst worth and wisdom pine in shade;
And Slander's arrows, foul as hell,
That pierce with griefs incurable,
By Envy forged, and Malice sent,
Oft wound the good, the innocent—
Oppression's ruthless gauntlet fall,
And peace and safety weep their all.
And though some fair examples, bright,
Shone beacons in this starless night;
He could not, and he would not throng
With fashion's herd, that, right or wrong,
Still follow custom's train along:
His fellow-men, when such the view,
Claim'd not his homage as their due;
He pitied—he despised them too!
'Twas wrong, perhaps: the mighty mind,
That soars with pinions unconfin'd,
And searches, with discerning skill,
The cause, effect of good and ill,
Traces the harmony that springs
From seemingly discordant things,
And finds the universal plan
Is love to God, and love to man.
Then, lest its knowledge mar its peace,
It still must judge with tenderness;
For heaven's pure truths may be discern'd,
And priz'd, by weak as well as learn'd:
Unfathom'd depth of glorious grace!
That links all being—fills all space.
Pride may, at times, with knowledge dwell,
As men are frail in court or cell;
But empty heads its favorites are;
With dress attendance, title, glare,
Self-love aspires, like balloon light,
As airy, and as useless quite—
Yet hears the world this clamorous crew,
Nor gives to modest worth his due;
But, with some trite and trifling rule,
Dooms him a dull and dreaming fool.
Young Ormond watch'd the kindling sky
And there on many a morn was he,
And still, as if 'twere novelty,
He dwelt with that unsated gaze,
Which, far more eloquent than praise,
Pours the beholder's spirit forth,
E'er thought can yield to language birth;
Till, from th' enthusiastic tone,
Each movement of the mind is known.
And Ormond's was a figure fine,
That Grecian artists might design;
His features, too, their skill might reach,
And all of manly beauty teach;
But, even should Appelles dare
To throw the soul's expression there;
Those quick and varying turns that show
How passions melt, or feelings glow—
Oh, he would fail, unless 'twere given,
To blend his dyes with breath of heaven!
11
“Who spurn'd control, and scorn'd employ;”
Because no trifling play or jest
E'er gave his boyish pleasures zest;—
The lonely ramble he preferr'd,
Where human voice was never heard;
With eager step, and wild delight,
He climb'd the mountain's dizzy height;
Or days, beside the glassy brook,
He lay and watch'd his floating hook;
Yet still, when to repay his toil,
He chanc'd to snare the finny spoil,
With sympathy he mark'd its pain,
And cast the struggler home again.
Then would he choose some curious flower,
Peruse its texture, try its power,
Study its use, and trace design,
Th' impression of the Power divine.
And to that One all great, all good,
His spirit only bowed, subdued!
His fellow men, for much he thought
On man,—his end and duty sought
But saw him stoop from aims divine
Saws reason kneel at folly's shrine;
And fair integrity give place
To bribes, or fawns, or cunning base;
12
Whilst worth and wisdom pine in shade;
And Slander's arrows, foul as hell,
That pierce with griefs incurable,
By Envy forged, and Malice sent,
Oft wound the good, the innocent—
Oppression's ruthless gauntlet fall,
And peace and safety weep their all.
And though some fair examples, bright,
Shone beacons in this starless night;
He could not, and he would not throng
With fashion's herd, that, right or wrong,
Still follow custom's train along:
His fellow-men, when such the view,
Claim'd not his homage as their due;
He pitied—he despised them too!
'Twas wrong, perhaps: the mighty mind,
That soars with pinions unconfin'd,
And searches, with discerning skill,
The cause, effect of good and ill,
Traces the harmony that springs
From seemingly discordant things,
And finds the universal plan
Is love to God, and love to man.
Then, lest its knowledge mar its peace,
It still must judge with tenderness;
13
And priz'd, by weak as well as learn'd:
Unfathom'd depth of glorious grace!
That links all being—fills all space.
Pride may, at times, with knowledge dwell,
As men are frail in court or cell;
But empty heads its favorites are;
With dress attendance, title, glare,
Self-love aspires, like balloon light,
As airy, and as useless quite—
Yet hears the world this clamorous crew,
Nor gives to modest worth his due;
But, with some trite and trifling rule,
Dooms him a dull and dreaming fool.
But Ormond, if his mind approv'd,
Could hear “the world's dread laugh” unmov'd,
Nor o'er his philosophic soul,
Its spleen or censure held control.
Mirth never formed his happiness,
Nor passing compliments his peace;
But solitude was company,
Where his wild fancy sported free.
And ne'er, in any clime or age,
Did Nature ope so fair a page
To awe, enrapture, elevate,
With the sublime, surprising, great,
As where untamed by man, she reigns
O'er sky-wrapp'd mountains, boundless plains,
With rivers laced, whose sweeping tide
Makes eastern streams like riv'lets glide;
For Nature's dress deep forests spread,
Where mammoths made their lonely bed;
And at her call, earth, ocean, air,
Her table heap with viands rare;—
When Sirius glows, her thirst to slake,
Her cup's Superior's foaming lake,
Whose wide unrivalled grandeur mocks
All Europe's narrow seas and lochs.
Now Ormond, from the Atlantic shore,
That morn had purposed to explore
Those pathless tracts, and aged woods,
And caverns deep, and rushing floods;
And prairies, that the wild deer hold,
And cliffs, the vultures' eyries bold,
And all those thousand wonders found,
That, stretching from the billowy bound,
Follow our Eagle's circles round.
Could hear “the world's dread laugh” unmov'd,
Nor o'er his philosophic soul,
Its spleen or censure held control.
Mirth never formed his happiness,
Nor passing compliments his peace;
But solitude was company,
Where his wild fancy sported free.
And ne'er, in any clime or age,
Did Nature ope so fair a page
To awe, enrapture, elevate,
14
As where untamed by man, she reigns
O'er sky-wrapp'd mountains, boundless plains,
With rivers laced, whose sweeping tide
Makes eastern streams like riv'lets glide;
For Nature's dress deep forests spread,
Where mammoths made their lonely bed;
And at her call, earth, ocean, air,
Her table heap with viands rare;—
When Sirius glows, her thirst to slake,
Her cup's Superior's foaming lake,
Whose wide unrivalled grandeur mocks
All Europe's narrow seas and lochs.
Now Ormond, from the Atlantic shore,
That morn had purposed to explore
Those pathless tracts, and aged woods,
And caverns deep, and rushing floods;
And prairies, that the wild deer hold,
And cliffs, the vultures' eyries bold,
And all those thousand wonders found,
That, stretching from the billowy bound,
Follow our Eagle's circles round.
The sons of sloth and luxury,
Who trifling live, and trembling die,
Pleasure their shrine, and ease their pray'r—
They will not sure attend him there.
But come, Columbia's Pride, who first
The vestal spark of freedom nurs'd,
That now with the volcano's force,
Prostrates the Mighty in its course,
And shines, as erst on Egypt's night,
The Despot's cloud, the Captive's light—
Come trace your vast inheritance;
Thence is your strength, your glory thence—
A wall no engine shakes, no foe
Its passes, or its guards may know.
And let the “ancient cities” tread
The mould'ring rubbish of their dead—
The broken column, ruined wall,
At once their pride and shame recal—
Ours the fresh joy existence knows,
When youth and health all rapture glows;
With Ormond follow nature free,
And feel the worth of Liberty.
Who trifling live, and trembling die,
Pleasure their shrine, and ease their pray'r—
They will not sure attend him there.
15
The vestal spark of freedom nurs'd,
That now with the volcano's force,
Prostrates the Mighty in its course,
And shines, as erst on Egypt's night,
The Despot's cloud, the Captive's light—
Come trace your vast inheritance;
Thence is your strength, your glory thence—
A wall no engine shakes, no foe
Its passes, or its guards may know.
And let the “ancient cities” tread
The mould'ring rubbish of their dead—
The broken column, ruined wall,
At once their pride and shame recal—
Ours the fresh joy existence knows,
When youth and health all rapture glows;
With Ormond follow nature free,
And feel the worth of Liberty.
If, prisoned in some narrow cell,
Oppression's hapless victim dwell,
Till time, his first wild sorrow spent,
Half soothes him with a cold content,
A visionary happiness
Then cheats the pressure of distress—
Employment numbers o'er and o'er,
Each bar and grate and massy door;
And feeling, that the heart must share,
Makes, like poor Trenck, some pet his care,—
Oh, then should pale captivity,
Release her prey with, ‘go be free!’
How bounds the burning soul—and yet
There mingles something like regret,
As turning from that dungeon door,
Where oft he dreamed, he dreams no more.
Oppression's hapless victim dwell,
Till time, his first wild sorrow spent,
Half soothes him with a cold content,
A visionary happiness
Then cheats the pressure of distress—
Employment numbers o'er and o'er,
Each bar and grate and massy door;
16
Makes, like poor Trenck, some pet his care,—
Oh, then should pale captivity,
Release her prey with, ‘go be free!’
How bounds the burning soul—and yet
There mingles something like regret,
As turning from that dungeon door,
Where oft he dreamed, he dreams no more.
What magic chain thus holds the mind?
Mem'ry's associations bind—
The rudest spot her charm endears,
If cloth'd in tints of early years.
No wonder, then attained a height,
That Ormond paused and cleared his sight;
A tear perhaps, was gath'ring there—
Then rose his home, so calm, so fair;
Like vanished joys, unprized till gone.
He sighed—but now the ceaseless sun
Warned him to snatch a farewell view;
Turning, he breathed a warm adieu.
But the sequestered haunt had power
To soothe him in the moodiest hour,
Like holy charm, it lulled to rest
Each stormy passion of the breast;
For swells a heart, or strives a will
To rage, when Nature cries ‘be still!’
With moral pointed spreads her page
To woo the wild, instruct the sage,
Reprove the wayward, rouse the dull,
And stamp th' immortal truth of Soul!
Kind monitor—like conscience, given
To preach a God, and point to heaven.
Mem'ry's associations bind—
The rudest spot her charm endears,
If cloth'd in tints of early years.
No wonder, then attained a height,
That Ormond paused and cleared his sight;
A tear perhaps, was gath'ring there—
Then rose his home, so calm, so fair;
Like vanished joys, unprized till gone.
He sighed—but now the ceaseless sun
Warned him to snatch a farewell view;
Turning, he breathed a warm adieu.
But the sequestered haunt had power
To soothe him in the moodiest hour,
Like holy charm, it lulled to rest
Each stormy passion of the breast;
For swells a heart, or strives a will
To rage, when Nature cries ‘be still!’
17
To woo the wild, instruct the sage,
Reprove the wayward, rouse the dull,
And stamp th' immortal truth of Soul!
Kind monitor—like conscience, given
To preach a God, and point to heaven.
'Twas now that animated time,
When spring rejoicing rules our clime
In beauty robes the youthful year,
No artist's pencil rivals here.
On earth is there a soul so cold,
Or fashioned in so rough a mould,
That warms not, melts not, when the grove
Is fragrance, harmony and love?
Not so our trav'ler's; every view
Was pleasure, as the season new;
The crystal brook, where osiers sip,
The rose as sweet as beauty's lip;
The lofty oak a monarch frown'd,
But tender woodbine clasped him round,
And graced, for her support, the tree,
Like woman in society.
From blossomed boughs the songsters sent.
Sublimed as their fine element,
Hosannas in each matin song,
Or brushed with rapid wing along,
To lure the stranger foot, that near
Their slender dwellings, raised their fear.
With nut in mouth, and glance so sly,
The roguish squirrel darted by;
A little thief—yet steals he nought,
Save what instinctive nature taught;
Her law his rule, absolve him then;
Reason and conscience are for men.
When spring rejoicing rules our clime
In beauty robes the youthful year,
No artist's pencil rivals here.
On earth is there a soul so cold,
Or fashioned in so rough a mould,
That warms not, melts not, when the grove
Is fragrance, harmony and love?
Not so our trav'ler's; every view
Was pleasure, as the season new;
The crystal brook, where osiers sip,
The rose as sweet as beauty's lip;
The lofty oak a monarch frown'd,
But tender woodbine clasped him round,
And graced, for her support, the tree,
Like woman in society.
From blossomed boughs the songsters sent.
Sublimed as their fine element,
18
Or brushed with rapid wing along,
To lure the stranger foot, that near
Their slender dwellings, raised their fear.
With nut in mouth, and glance so sly,
The roguish squirrel darted by;
A little thief—yet steals he nought,
Save what instinctive nature taught;
Her law his rule, absolve him then;
Reason and conscience are for men.
But past are soon the glade and grove,
Those scenes of bloom, of peace and love.
As frowned the world to Eden's pair,
So awful was the contrast there,
When Ormond left those haunts of bliss,
Where Spring was bride to Happiness,
And o'er the Alleghany's steep
His rugged course prepared to keep.—
And wary was his footing held,
Slowly, yet oft to pause compell'd,
Where scattered fragments, tempest riven,
And from the rock's huge masses driven,
Lay heap'd, and choked the broken path,
Whilst yawned some horrid gulph beneath.
There stubborn guilt must shrink to see
One step might reach Eternity!
Those scenes of bloom, of peace and love.
As frowned the world to Eden's pair,
So awful was the contrast there,
When Ormond left those haunts of bliss,
Where Spring was bride to Happiness,
And o'er the Alleghany's steep
His rugged course prepared to keep.—
And wary was his footing held,
Slowly, yet oft to pause compell'd,
Where scattered fragments, tempest riven,
And from the rock's huge masses driven,
Lay heap'd, and choked the broken path,
Whilst yawned some horrid gulph beneath.
There stubborn guilt must shrink to see
One step might reach Eternity!
19
But Ormond passed unmoved, or sought
From every change new fund for thought.
The cloud that clothed the mountain's top
Was emblem of life's shifting hope—
At every view its shades were lost,
As every hour man's hopes are cross'd:
And while he reached one pinnacle,
Still more and more before him swell;
He mused—‘Ambition here must sigh,’
‘'Tis thus his wishes multiply.’
And oft he lingered to explain
Some fissure's deep and varied vein;
Admired that strong and subtle force,
That guides the planets in their course,
And draws each pebbly particle
Within the rock's huge mass to dwell.
He gains the summit—boundless mind
Then bursts and revels unconfin'd!
Nor for the languid senses waits,
Nor pauses, nor discriminates,
Till all the mighty round she flies—
No barrier, save the bending skies!
From every change new fund for thought.
The cloud that clothed the mountain's top
Was emblem of life's shifting hope—
At every view its shades were lost,
As every hour man's hopes are cross'd:
And while he reached one pinnacle,
Still more and more before him swell;
He mused—‘Ambition here must sigh,’
‘'Tis thus his wishes multiply.’
And oft he lingered to explain
Some fissure's deep and varied vein;
Admired that strong and subtle force,
That guides the planets in their course,
And draws each pebbly particle
Within the rock's huge mass to dwell.
He gains the summit—boundless mind
Then bursts and revels unconfin'd!
Nor for the languid senses waits,
Nor pauses, nor discriminates,
Till all the mighty round she flies—
No barrier, save the bending skies!
And poor the joys that wait a throne
To Ormond's, when he called his own
Such varied prospect rich and grand,
Where art and nature, hand in hand,
Their treasures or their toil display.
Here hamlets, farms beneath him lay,
Bright'ning with glow of vernal sun—
There rivers rushed all foaming on;
Or winding through the meadows gay,
As sleeping warrior, calm they lay.
At once were groves and forests seen,
And swelling pastures stretched between;
The mines whence freedom draws her wealth,
And industry repays with health;
And where each yeoman reigns a lord:
Such spot, can eastern world afford?
To Ormond's, when he called his own
Such varied prospect rich and grand,
20
Their treasures or their toil display.
Here hamlets, farms beneath him lay,
Bright'ning with glow of vernal sun—
There rivers rushed all foaming on;
Or winding through the meadows gay,
As sleeping warrior, calm they lay.
At once were groves and forests seen,
And swelling pastures stretched between;
The mines whence freedom draws her wealth,
And industry repays with health;
And where each yeoman reigns a lord:
Such spot, can eastern world afford?
But shifting with the shifting wind,
Like fortune's smiles, to merit blind,
The shapeless clouds in volumes vast,
Borne onward by the rushing blast,
Their dark and heavy shadows flung,
And o'er the mountain landscape hung;
Still gleams of light would intervene,
As loth to leave the lovely scene—
These bright as smiles of pity be,
Those dark as frowns adversity.
And now, as war would rend the sky,
The quivering coils of lightning fly—
Low, deep the thunder burst around,
And cave and cliff reverbed the sound!
The gathering storm drove fierce and fast;
But, like the spirit of the blast,
A cloud his robe, a crag his seat,
Thus Ormond's strains the tempest greet.
Like fortune's smiles, to merit blind,
The shapeless clouds in volumes vast,
Borne onward by the rushing blast,
Their dark and heavy shadows flung,
And o'er the mountain landscape hung;
Still gleams of light would intervene,
As loth to leave the lovely scene—
These bright as smiles of pity be,
Those dark as frowns adversity.
And now, as war would rend the sky,
The quivering coils of lightning fly—
Low, deep the thunder burst around,
21
The gathering storm drove fierce and fast;
But, like the spirit of the blast,
A cloud his robe, a crag his seat,
Thus Ormond's strains the tempest greet.
Ormond's Song.
1.
Oh, say, hast thou seen, with a thrilling emotion,The mountain mist roll its dark form?
Or listened, with feelings of awe and devotion,
As elements mixed in the gloomy commotion,
And loud rose the voice of the storm!
2.
Then, in those moments of wild breathing sadness,How lessened this dim speck of earth!
Possessions were folly, and pleasures were madness—
From heaven—with mingled contrition and gladness,
The soul hail'd in triumph her birth!
“What make ye here?” a Hunter cried,
As, hurrying past, he Ormond eyed—
“A strange time this your pipes to sound—
“Pray, friend, wilt tell me whither bound?”
As, hurrying past, he Ormond eyed—
22
“Pray, friend, wilt tell me whither bound?”
“Where wildest wonders may betide,
“Or fancy lead, or chance may guide.”
“Or fancy lead, or chance may guide.”
“A trav'ler, ha! well, come with me,
“My roof, my fire, my fare, are free
“To strangers in such boisterous hour;
“Come, hasten—yonder cloud will pour
“In torrents like the cat'racts wrath.”
Then down the steep and flinty path,
That, scarce accessible to foot,
Save of wild deer or mountain goat,
Wound threading round the precipice,
They haste, till where projecting rise
The rocks, and form a shelter rude,
The Hunter's little cabin stood.
Through open window streamed a ray,
And shone athwart their broken way—
The human habitation's seal;
Nor bird, nor beast that signet steal;
A large bequest, with man they share,
Empire of ocean, earth and air:
O'er fire he reigns without control.
Regent of the material soul.
Within, (what oft the splendid haunt
Of pleasure's polished sons may want)
A cordial welcome waits—a friend,
Their wants to hear, their wishes tend;
Companion in the jovial chase,
Or cook, or housewife, all in place.
“My roof, my fire, my fare, are free
“To strangers in such boisterous hour;
“Come, hasten—yonder cloud will pour
“In torrents like the cat'racts wrath.”
Then down the steep and flinty path,
That, scarce accessible to foot,
Save of wild deer or mountain goat,
Wound threading round the precipice,
They haste, till where projecting rise
The rocks, and form a shelter rude,
The Hunter's little cabin stood.
Through open window streamed a ray,
And shone athwart their broken way—
The human habitation's seal;
Nor bird, nor beast that signet steal;
A large bequest, with man they share,
Empire of ocean, earth and air:
O'er fire he reigns without control.
Regent of the material soul.
23
Of pleasure's polished sons may want)
A cordial welcome waits—a friend,
Their wants to hear, their wishes tend;
Companion in the jovial chase,
Or cook, or housewife, all in place.
Why here, where whirlwinds hold their court,
And clouds and storms in vag'ries sport;
Whilst man their empire quits with awe,
And yields to nature's changeless law;
And hungry brute unsated flies,
And stinted vegetation dies—
Lone, sterile all, should choose to dwell
These Hunters in their hermit cell,
Not here it boots us to explain;
A wilder theme demands our strain.
And clouds and storms in vag'ries sport;
Whilst man their empire quits with awe,
And yields to nature's changeless law;
And hungry brute unsated flies,
And stinted vegetation dies—
Lone, sterile all, should choose to dwell
These Hunters in their hermit cell,
Not here it boots us to explain;
A wilder theme demands our strain.
The supper served, and fuel pil'd,
What trav'ler's tales the time beguil'd!
And Ormond, with the ear of youth,
Delighted heard and deemed them truth
The wonderous wild adventures rise
His ardent dreams to realize.
And quick each entertainer saw
His listening look, and breathless awe;
The eager spirit dye the cheek,
And through the flashing eyelash speak,
With that intense and searching gaze
Which well the pleased narrator pays
The eldest Hunter spoke with ease,
And he could both instruct and please;
For scarce a spot had 'scap'd his ken,
Within the daring range of men,
From where Niag'ra's thundering roar
With tremor shakes th' astonished shore—
(Whilst more astonished, men confess,
And feel untold, their littleness;)
To where, with golden rivers fed,
Sleeps, Mexico, thy inland bed,
Around that land where Spaniard's fame
Must weep o'er Montezuma's name,
Their Captive, Victim, Wealth and Shame!
Oh, may Iberia's Cortes raze
That blood-stained name of other days!
What trav'ler's tales the time beguil'd!
And Ormond, with the ear of youth,
Delighted heard and deemed them truth
The wonderous wild adventures rise
His ardent dreams to realize.
And quick each entertainer saw
His listening look, and breathless awe;
The eager spirit dye the cheek,
24
With that intense and searching gaze
Which well the pleased narrator pays
The eldest Hunter spoke with ease,
And he could both instruct and please;
For scarce a spot had 'scap'd his ken,
Within the daring range of men,
From where Niag'ra's thundering roar
With tremor shakes th' astonished shore—
(Whilst more astonished, men confess,
And feel untold, their littleness;)
To where, with golden rivers fed,
Sleeps, Mexico, thy inland bed,
Around that land where Spaniard's fame
Must weep o'er Montezuma's name,
Their Captive, Victim, Wealth and Shame!
Oh, may Iberia's Cortes raze
That blood-stained name of other days!
But nothing, with romantic zest,
Created such deep interest,
As when the Western wilds they draw,
Describe those ancient Forts they saw,
And those huge Mounds where, buried, lie
Secrets of dark antiquity,
So deep that fancy checks her flight,
Consigning to Oblivion's night
Those wonders of the olden dead,
That speak, beneath our silent tread,
Of Nations perished—Kingdoms fled!
Yes, fled—and Fable's wildest wing,
Untired before, can search or bring
No date, memento, whence to trace
Their founder, origin or race;
Not even in Fiction's annals nam'd;
They flourished—fell—unsung, unfam'd.
Created such deep interest,
As when the Western wilds they draw,
Describe those ancient Forts they saw,
And those huge Mounds where, buried, lie
Numerous mounds and forts of earth have been discovered in the western states, and particularly in the state of Ohio. The place where they commence is in the western part of the state of New-York, near the southern shore of lake Ontario; from thence they extend in a southwesterly direction through the western states and territories, and terminate in Mexico. The mounds vary in magnitude vastly from each other, and also in shape. Some are of a conical figure, ending on the top in a point, and as steep on the sides as the dirt could be made to lie; others are of the same shape except that they present a flat area on the top, like a cone cut off at some distance from its vertex, in a plane coincident with its base, or with the horizon; others again are of a semi-globular shape.
Many of these mounds are composed of earth of a different quality from that found in their immediate vicinity. This circumstance seems to indicate that the earth of which they were composed was transported some distance. It is believed, from the best information, that the largest of all the mounds yet discovered, is the one adjoining Big Grave creek, near the Ohio river, 14 miles below Wheeling. This mound is about 33 rods in circumference, at its base. Its perpendicular height is about 90 feet; on the summit is an area of nearly 60 feet in diameter; in the middle is a regular concavity, the cubical content of which is about 3000 feet.
Secrets of dark antiquity,
So deep that fancy checks her flight,
25
Those wonders of the olden dead,
That speak, beneath our silent tread,
Of Nations perished—Kingdoms fled!
Yes, fled—and Fable's wildest wing,
Untired before, can search or bring
No date, memento, whence to trace
Their founder, origin or race;
Not even in Fiction's annals nam'd;
They flourished—fell—unsung, unfam'd.
Man studies man—in every age,
The human forms the noblest page—
We glance at Nature; but the mind,
Recoiling, fixes on its kind.
Examples, precepts, hence we draw
Of virtue, piety and law,
And valor glows but in this zone—
What heroes bleed for Marathon!
And patriots, till time blots the sun,
Shall model find in Washington.
And more would Ormond joy to know
Who rais'd those mounds—who rest below?
Why frowns that wall with warlike head?
Or scooped that trench's channell'd bed?—
Than, though, like sapient king of old,
He could all Nature's laws unfold,
And every varied change she drew,
From cedar to the hyssop, view.
These legends on his spirit fell,
As falls the charm of wizzard spell!
His weary limbs may be consign'd
To rest, but his unwearied mind
Again must every scene review—
Like lightning from the cloud it flew—
Each mound and fort and wall is seen,
As fancy architect had been;
And, holy prophet's truth to prove,
The buried bones stern warriors move;
And Ormond drew, in fair array,
The order of their battle day;
And saw (what may not Fancy see
'Mid rainbows of a reverie?)
The Chief that through their gateway strode
His shining armor dyed in blood,
While foes before his glittering eye
All cowering fall, or frighted fly;
And virgins, in their latticed bower,
Are hymning his triumphant hour;
And mothers' pious blessings rise,
Earth's purest off'ring to the skies!
Visions like these—oh, who shall dare
Exclaim, “how weak, how vain they are!”
Soft as the summer clouds arise,
Swift as their changes o'er the skies,
So soft, so swift such visions move,
And live the life we fondly love;
And past, and future, kindle bright
Beneath imagination's light;
That taper lit from lamp of heaven
By Him, who breath'd the spirit given.
The human forms the noblest page—
We glance at Nature; but the mind,
Recoiling, fixes on its kind.
Examples, precepts, hence we draw
Of virtue, piety and law,
And valor glows but in this zone—
What heroes bleed for Marathon!
And patriots, till time blots the sun,
Shall model find in Washington.
And more would Ormond joy to know
Who rais'd those mounds—who rest below?
Why frowns that wall with warlike head?
The fortifications throughout the western country consist of a circular wall composed of earth. Sometimes, though rarely, the form of the fort is elliptical, and a few of them are square. Their height is almost infinitely various. Some of them are so low as to be scarcely perceptible; some are from 20 to 30 feet in perpendicular height, while others are of an intermediate elevation. But the wall of the same fort is, pretty uniformly, of the same height all around. They are likewise equally various in the contents of the ground they enclose: some containing but a few perches; others nearly 100 acres.
The number of their entrances or gateways varies in different forts from one to eight, or more, in proportion to the plan of construction and the magnitude of the enclosure. The walls are mostly single; but in a few instances forts have been found consisting of two walls parallel, and adjacent to each other. As to their local situation, it is generally on an elevated site of ground, adjoining a river, or stream of water. Some, even among the most learned men, have controverted the idea of their having been designed for forts; but a strong argument in favor of this is, that they appear in a majority of instances, to have been constructed on such advantageous and commanding ground as a skilful military tactician would have selected for military positions. The first military men now living in the United States have examined some of the works, and uniformly declared their opinion to be, that they were military works of defence.
Or scooped that trench's channell'd bed?—
Than, though, like sapient king of old,
He could all Nature's laws unfold,
26
From cedar to the hyssop, view.
These legends on his spirit fell,
As falls the charm of wizzard spell!
His weary limbs may be consign'd
To rest, but his unwearied mind
Again must every scene review—
Like lightning from the cloud it flew—
Each mound and fort and wall is seen,
As fancy architect had been;
And, holy prophet's truth to prove,
The buried bones stern warriors move;
And Ormond drew, in fair array,
The order of their battle day;
And saw (what may not Fancy see
'Mid rainbows of a reverie?)
The Chief that through their gateway strode
His shining armor dyed in blood,
While foes before his glittering eye
All cowering fall, or frighted fly;
And virgins, in their latticed bower,
Are hymning his triumphant hour;
And mothers' pious blessings rise,
Earth's purest off'ring to the skies!
Visions like these—oh, who shall dare
Exclaim, “how weak, how vain they are!”
27
Swift as their changes o'er the skies,
So soft, so swift such visions move,
And live the life we fondly love;
And past, and future, kindle bright
Beneath imagination's light;
That taper lit from lamp of heaven
By Him, who breath'd the spirit given.
Visions like these o'er Ormond's soul,
In grandeur, or in beauty, stole—
He mus'd on these, and 'neath his head
Felt not the rocky pillow spread;
Nor heard the groaning wind complain,
Nor listened to the driving rain;
And fix'd at morning light was he,
Through pathless wilds to search and see,
And ponder o'er this mystery.
In grandeur, or in beauty, stole—
He mus'd on these, and 'neath his head
Felt not the rocky pillow spread;
Nor heard the groaning wind complain,
Nor listened to the driving rain;
And fix'd at morning light was he,
Through pathless wilds to search and see,
And ponder o'er this mystery.
END OF CANTO FIRST.
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