 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
56
THE PIONEERS OF WESTERN NEW YORK.
[_]
[This Poem was most kindly received on its “delivery,” as the phrase is, and a committee, consisting of several distinguished gentlemen, one of whom was my “most loved and honored friend,” the venerable John Greig, so eminent for every social and civic virtue, addressed the author the following request, which was complied with: “Dear Sir-The poem read by you this day, before the Literary Societies of Geneva College, and the numerous assemblage of citizens and strangers who attended the exercises at the College Commencement, was universally admired for its poetical beauties—for its appropriate description of the part of the country in which we reside, and of the perils and privations incident to its early settlement. Some of your friends among the old settlers, and their descendants, will be highly gratified to see the Poem published, and we solicit a copy for publication.”]
Our hardy pioneers, the men who—nursed
Amid the blooming fields of cultured lands—
Forsook the scenes of infancy, and first
With hearts of lofty daring and strong hands
Pierced old primeval groves—by hunter bands
And beasts of carnage tenanted alone—
And lit their camp fires on the lonely strands
Of lakes and seas, to geographer unknown,
Deserve the bard's high lay—the sculptor's proudest stone.
Amid the blooming fields of cultured lands—
Forsook the scenes of infancy, and first
With hearts of lofty daring and strong hands
Pierced old primeval groves—by hunter bands
And beasts of carnage tenanted alone—
And lit their camp fires on the lonely strands
Of lakes and seas, to geographer unknown,
Deserve the bard's high lay—the sculptor's proudest stone.
Noblest of human conquerors were they!
For, mighty though the bonds that bound the heart
To home and its endearments, far away
From mourning kindred and the crowded mart,
And earth for funeral uses set apart,
Where lay their honored dead in solemn rest,
They bore the precious seed of useful art
To wild, benighted regions of the West;
Since the creation-day in unpruned beauty dressed.
For, mighty though the bonds that bound the heart
To home and its endearments, far away
From mourning kindred and the crowded mart,
And earth for funeral uses set apart,
Where lay their honored dead in solemn rest,
They bore the precious seed of useful art
To wild, benighted regions of the West;
Since the creation-day in unpruned beauty dressed.
57
Let Ruin lift his arm, and crush in dust
The glittering piles and palaces of kings,
And, changing crown and sceptre into rust,
Doom them to sleep among forgotten things—
Let time o'ershadow with his dusky wings
Warriors who guilty eminence have gained,
And drank renown at red, polluted springs—
Sacked peaceful towns—the holy shrine profaned,—
And to their chariot wheels the groaning captive chained:—
The glittering piles and palaces of kings,
And, changing crown and sceptre into rust,
Doom them to sleep among forgotten things—
Let time o'ershadow with his dusky wings
Warriors who guilty eminence have gained,
And drank renown at red, polluted springs—
Sacked peaceful towns—the holy shrine profaned,—
And to their chariot wheels the groaning captive chained:—
But the self-exiled Britons who behind
Left Transatlantic luxuries, and gave
Their parting salutations to the wind,
And, scorning the vile languor of the slave,
Rocked with the little May Flower on the wave,
To immortality have prouder claim.
Let the bright Muse of History engrave
Their names in fadeless characters of flame,
And give their wondrous tale an everlasting fame.
Left Transatlantic luxuries, and gave
Their parting salutations to the wind,
And, scorning the vile languor of the slave,
Rocked with the little May Flower on the wave,
To immortality have prouder claim.
Let the bright Muse of History engrave
Their names in fadeless characters of flame,
And give their wondrous tale an everlasting fame.
No empty vision of unbounded power—
No dream of wild romance—no thirst for gold
Lured them from merry England's hall and bower—
Her Sabbath chime of bells, her hamlet old;
At home religious bigotry controlled
The struggling wing of thought; a gloomy cloud,
Charged with despotic wrath above them rolled;
And haunts they sought where man might walk unbowed,
And sacred truth might raise her warning voice aloud.
No dream of wild romance—no thirst for gold
Lured them from merry England's hall and bower—
Her Sabbath chime of bells, her hamlet old;
At home religious bigotry controlled
The struggling wing of thought; a gloomy cloud,
Charged with despotic wrath above them rolled;
And haunts they sought where man might walk unbowed,
And sacred truth might raise her warning voice aloud.
No waving flag, gay plume nor gleaming casque,
Proclaimed them masters of war's bloody trade:
Less daring spirits from the mighty task
In terror would have shrunken. Tender maid,
And daughter gently reared, for God to aid
Their feeble natures, breathed the words of prayer,
And in heaven's panoply their souls arrayed—
Speeding the good work on, though frail and fair,
When sterner manhood felt the faintness of despair.
Proclaimed them masters of war's bloody trade:
Less daring spirits from the mighty task
In terror would have shrunken. Tender maid,
And daughter gently reared, for God to aid
Their feeble natures, breathed the words of prayer,
And in heaven's panoply their souls arrayed—
Speeding the good work on, though frail and fair,
When sterner manhood felt the faintness of despair.
58
Old Sparta in exulting tones may boast
Of ancient matrons who could deck the bier
Of sire and husband, slain where host met host,
And, in the flush of pride, forget the tear:
Our pilgrim mothers, too, could conquer fear,
And stifle sorrow; but their hearts enshrined
The soft affections: who loves not to hear
Their praises sung?—their constancy of mind,
Amid thy daughters, Greece, we strive in vain to find!
Of ancient matrons who could deck the bier
Of sire and husband, slain where host met host,
And, in the flush of pride, forget the tear:
Our pilgrim mothers, too, could conquer fear,
And stifle sorrow; but their hearts enshrined
The soft affections: who loves not to hear
Their praises sung?—their constancy of mind,
Amid thy daughters, Greece, we strive in vain to find!
White lay the snow flakes on the lonely shore,
And winter flung his banner on the blast—
Behind swept angry waters; and before
Spread waving woods, dark, limitless and vast,
When a new continent received at last
Our houseless sires. The red-man, gaunt and grim.
On the strange scene his falcon vision cast;
And nameless terror shook his tawny limb
While, drowning ocean's roar, went up their triumph-hymn;
And winter flung his banner on the blast—
Behind swept angry waters; and before
Spread waving woods, dark, limitless and vast,
When a new continent received at last
Our houseless sires. The red-man, gaunt and grim.
On the strange scene his falcon vision cast;
And nameless terror shook his tawny limb
While, drowning ocean's roar, went up their triumph-hymn;
And when the bold survivors of that band
Reached the decaying autumn-time of life,
And locks were white, and palsied was the hand,
Barbaric swarms, with axe and deadly knife,
And painted, plumed and quivered for the strife,
Rushed from their trackless lairs to burn—despoil—
Butcher the cradled babe, the pleading wife;
Then swept the nodding harvest from the soil,
And scattered on the wind the fruits of patient toil.
Reached the decaying autumn-time of life,
And locks were white, and palsied was the hand,
Barbaric swarms, with axe and deadly knife,
And painted, plumed and quivered for the strife,
Rushed from their trackless lairs to burn—despoil—
Butcher the cradled babe, the pleading wife;
Then swept the nodding harvest from the soil,
And scattered on the wind the fruits of patient toil.
The marble of Pentelicus, whereon
Exquisite taste majestically reared
The polished columns of the Parthenon,
By classic recollection is endeared;
But when its grandeur is no more revered—
Its peerless fabric gone,—the storied rock
On which our fathers landed, will be cheered
By grateful voices; and the ruffian-shock
Of billows, white with foam, its iron brow will mock.
Exquisite taste majestically reared
The polished columns of the Parthenon,
By classic recollection is endeared;
But when its grandeur is no more revered—
Its peerless fabric gone,—the storied rock
On which our fathers landed, will be cheered
By grateful voices; and the ruffian-shock
Of billows, white with foam, its iron brow will mock.
59
The Pilgrim Spirit faded not in night
Like that misguiding lamp of frantic zeal
That led crusaders forth, in banded might,
To propagate christianity with steel,
In distant Palestine, and roll the wheel
Of bloody revolution: but its blaze
Thick clouds of war and storm could not conceal—
Round Lexington it poured undying rays,
And shamed the boasted deeds of old baronial days.
Like that misguiding lamp of frantic zeal
That led crusaders forth, in banded might,
To propagate christianity with steel,
In distant Palestine, and roll the wheel
Of bloody revolution: but its blaze
Thick clouds of war and storm could not conceal—
Round Lexington it poured undying rays,
And shamed the boasted deeds of old baronial days.
The Pilgrim Spirit! its converting power
And potent sway are felt wherever man
Is battling error in his hoary tower;
And virtue in defiance of the ban
Of popular opinion, leads the van
In purging guilty earth—where freedom dares
Unfurl his banner for the winds to fan;
And his dread sabre for the conflict bares,
Or, from despotic grasp, the rod of bondage tears.
And potent sway are felt wherever man
Is battling error in his hoary tower;
And virtue in defiance of the ban
Of popular opinion, leads the van
In purging guilty earth—where freedom dares
Unfurl his banner for the winds to fan;
And his dread sabre for the conflict bares,
Or, from despotic grasp, the rod of bondage tears.
The Pilgrim Spirit on our noble frame
Of government is written; for the road
That broadly leads to honorable fame
Lures humble merit from his rude abode,
Though lowly-born, and fainting with a load
Of wo and want, to struggle for the prize;
And proudly tread where gifted Sherman trode,
Or like great Franklin penetrate the skies,
And strip the blinding veil from nature's mysteries.
Of government is written; for the road
That broadly leads to honorable fame
Lures humble merit from his rude abode,
Though lowly-born, and fainting with a load
Of wo and want, to struggle for the prize;
And proudly tread where gifted Sherman trode,
Or like great Franklin penetrate the skies,
And strip the blinding veil from nature's mysteries.
When the green, shrouding moss of time o'ercrept
Mounds in the vale and on the mountain side,
Where the stern founders of our empire slept,
Improvement moving with gigantic stride
Still hurried onward: patient labor plied
The ringing axe; and from his old domain
Fled drowsy solitude; while, far and wide,
The scene grew bright with fields of golden grain,
And orchards robed in bloom on hill and sunny plain.
Mounds in the vale and on the mountain side,
Where the stern founders of our empire slept,
Improvement moving with gigantic stride
Still hurried onward: patient labor plied
The ringing axe; and from his old domain
Fled drowsy solitude; while, far and wide,
The scene grew bright with fields of golden grain,
And orchards robed in bloom on hill and sunny plain.
60
The wand of enterprise to queenly states
Gave wondrous being; rivalling the spell
That reared round Thebes a wall of many gates
When proud Amphion swept his chorded shell,
The tuneful gift of Hermes: pastoral bell,
With tinkling murmurs, woke savannahs green,
And roused wild echoes in the woody dell,
Where late the cougar of terrific mien,
Devoured the fawn, or rocked upon his perch unseen.
Gave wondrous being; rivalling the spell
That reared round Thebes a wall of many gates
When proud Amphion swept his chorded shell,
The tuneful gift of Hermes: pastoral bell,
With tinkling murmurs, woke savannahs green,
And roused wild echoes in the woody dell,
Where late the cougar of terrific mien,
Devoured the fawn, or rocked upon his perch unseen.
With his penates, to the distant shores
Of our broad western streams, Adventure hied,
And pierced the soil for rich metallic ores,
Or with a keen, prophetic vision spied
An unborn mart upon the river-side;
While traffic trimmed her bark to brave the gale,
And met the terrors of a chartless tide—
In nameless havens furled her tattered sail,
Or toward Pacific seas, pursued the red man's trail.
Of our broad western streams, Adventure hied,
And pierced the soil for rich metallic ores,
Or with a keen, prophetic vision spied
An unborn mart upon the river-side;
While traffic trimmed her bark to brave the gale,
And met the terrors of a chartless tide—
In nameless havens furled her tattered sail,
Or toward Pacific seas, pursued the red man's trail.
The buskined lords of bow and leathern quiver
Were thy admiring sponsors long ago,
And named thee—“Genesee”—my native river,
For pleasant are thy waters in their flow!
Though on thy sides no bowers of orange grow,
The free and happy in thy valley throng,
O'er which the airs of health delight to blow—
No richer, brighter charms than thine belong
To streams immortal made by proud Homeric song.
Were thy admiring sponsors long ago,
And named thee—“Genesee”—my native river,
For pleasant are thy waters in their flow!
Though on thy sides no bowers of orange grow,
The free and happy in thy valley throng,
O'er which the airs of health delight to blow—
No richer, brighter charms than thine belong
To streams immortal made by proud Homeric song.
Although thy tide that winds through pastures now,
By fleecy flock and lowing kine is drank,
A river of the wilderness wert thou,
When mixed in deadly combat on thy bank,
The yelling savage and impetuous Frank:
Thy wave lifts up no mourning voice to tell
Where the red, bubbling stream of carnage sank,
When rattling gun, loud groan, and fiendish yell,
Thy hollow murmur drowned, and gasping valor fell:
By fleecy flock and lowing kine is drank,
A river of the wilderness wert thou,
When mixed in deadly combat on thy bank,
The yelling savage and impetuous Frank:
Thy wave lifts up no mourning voice to tell
Where the red, bubbling stream of carnage sank,
When rattling gun, loud groan, and fiendish yell,
Thy hollow murmur drowned, and gasping valor fell:
61
And Nature, in the moss of time attired,
On her green throne of forest sate, when came
The host of Sullivan, with vengeance fired,
To rouse upon thy shore the beast of game,
And wrap the lodges of fierce tribes in flame,
Fresh from unhappy Wyoming, and red
With scalps of hoary age and childless dame:
Gone from thy borders are the oaks that spread
Their yellow autumn palls above the martial dead.
On her green throne of forest sate, when came
The host of Sullivan, with vengeance fired,
To rouse upon thy shore the beast of game,
And wrap the lodges of fierce tribes in flame,
Fresh from unhappy Wyoming, and red
With scalps of hoary age and childless dame:
Gone from thy borders are the oaks that spread
Their yellow autumn palls above the martial dead.
Eastward the soldiers of that campaign bore
Glad tidings of unpruned but pleasant lands,
Washed by thy surges, like those spies of yore
Who brought ripe grapes from Eshcol to the bands
By Moses led across the desert sands.
Regardless of the sons of Anak, soon
Bold men of dauntless hearts, and iron hands
Left home, while life was in its active noon,
To hear the forest-wind thy flood's deep voice attune.
Glad tidings of unpruned but pleasant lands,
Washed by thy surges, like those spies of yore
Who brought ripe grapes from Eshcol to the bands
By Moses led across the desert sands.
Regardless of the sons of Anak, soon
Bold men of dauntless hearts, and iron hands
Left home, while life was in its active noon,
To hear the forest-wind thy flood's deep voice attune.
They fled not, like scourged vassals in the night,
From dungeon, rack, and chain, with footstep fleet:
The halls of their nativity were bright,
And fraught with recollections, fond and sweet,
Of childish hours; and hearts that loved them beat
Beneath their pleasant roofs:—forsaking all—
They roused the wood-wolf from his dim retreat,
And boldly reared the gloomy cabin wall
Of rude, misshapen logs, amid the forest tall.
From dungeon, rack, and chain, with footstep fleet:
The halls of their nativity were bright,
And fraught with recollections, fond and sweet,
Of childish hours; and hearts that loved them beat
Beneath their pleasant roofs:—forsaking all—
They roused the wood-wolf from his dim retreat,
And boldly reared the gloomy cabin wall
Of rude, misshapen logs, amid the forest tall.
They little thought, while roving near the site
Of thy proud City, deafened by the sound
Of waters tumbling from a fearful height,
And darkened by the wilderness around,
That soon its hollow roaring would be drowned
By the deep murmur of the mighty crowd,
Amid thick domes, with tower and turret crowned;
The din of whirling ears, and clatter loud
Of mills by human art with iron lungs endowed:
Of thy proud City, deafened by the sound
Of waters tumbling from a fearful height,
And darkened by the wilderness around,
That soon its hollow roaring would be drowned
By the deep murmur of the mighty crowd,
Amid thick domes, with tower and turret crowned;
The din of whirling ears, and clatter loud
Of mills by human art with iron lungs endowed:
62
Nor did they dream that, in communion grand,
Broad Erie's wave, and Hudson's mighty tide,
Within a channel shaped by mortal hand,
Ere half a century elapsed, would glide:
That soon fair Buffalo, in queenly pride,
Would spring the Carthage of our inland seas,
And wave her sceptre o'er the waters wide—
To shipping change the patriarchal trees,
And launch a thousand barks to battle with the breeze.
Broad Erie's wave, and Hudson's mighty tide,
Within a channel shaped by mortal hand,
Ere half a century elapsed, would glide:
That soon fair Buffalo, in queenly pride,
Would spring the Carthage of our inland seas,
And wave her sceptre o'er the waters wide—
To shipping change the patriarchal trees,
And launch a thousand barks to battle with the breeze.
The foreign tourist, gazing on thy vale,
By rural seat and stately mansion graced,
Stands mute with wonder when he hears the tale
Of thy redemption from the sylvan waste:
That only fifty years their rounds have traced
Since Phelps, the Cecrops of thy realm, forsook
The peopled haunts of genius, art, and taste;
While doubting friends with apprehension shook,
And love upon his form fixed sad, regretful look.
By rural seat and stately mansion graced,
Stands mute with wonder when he hears the tale
Of thy redemption from the sylvan waste:
That only fifty years their rounds have traced
Since Phelps, the Cecrops of thy realm, forsook
The peopled haunts of genius, art, and taste;
While doubting friends with apprehension shook,
And love upon his form fixed sad, regretful look.
On the broad, green acclivities that round
The lovely lake of Canandaigua rise,
The groves in deep, majestic grandeur frowned,
Hiding their gloomy secrets from the skies,
And scarred and worn by storms of centuries,
When painted hordes with streaming locks of jet,
Terrific garb, and wildly glancing eyes,
Him and his daring band in treaty met,
Though late with Christian gore the tomahawk was wet.
The lovely lake of Canandaigua rise,
The groves in deep, majestic grandeur frowned,
Hiding their gloomy secrets from the skies,
And scarred and worn by storms of centuries,
When painted hordes with streaming locks of jet,
Terrific garb, and wildly glancing eyes,
Him and his daring band in treaty met,
Though late with Christian gore the tomahawk was wet.
A magic mirror girt by emerald,
In shade embowered, the diamond waters lay;
While the proud eagle, king-like, fierce, and bald,
Throned on the blasted hemlock, eyed his prey:
Sweet wild-flowers, guarded from the blaze of day,
Delicious odor on the soft air flung;
And birds of varied note and plumage gay
On shrubs and vines, with ripening berries hung,
Folded their glittering wings, and amorously sung.
In shade embowered, the diamond waters lay;
While the proud eagle, king-like, fierce, and bald,
Throned on the blasted hemlock, eyed his prey:
Sweet wild-flowers, guarded from the blaze of day,
Delicious odor on the soft air flung;
And birds of varied note and plumage gay
On shrubs and vines, with ripening berries hung,
Folded their glittering wings, and amorously sung.
63
The water rat—and darting otter swam
Amid the reedy flags that fringed the shore;
And the brown beaver to his rounded dam
With patient toil, the tooth-hewn sapling bore.
The lonely heron, surfeited with gore,
Smoothed on the pebbly beach his plumage dank:
Earth, sky, and wave an air of wildness wore,
And nimbly down the green and sloping bank,
Came stag and timid hind, on silver hoof, and drank.
Amid the reedy flags that fringed the shore;
And the brown beaver to his rounded dam
With patient toil, the tooth-hewn sapling bore.
The lonely heron, surfeited with gore,
Smoothed on the pebbly beach his plumage dank:
Earth, sky, and wave an air of wildness wore,
And nimbly down the green and sloping bank,
Came stag and timid hind, on silver hoof, and drank.
The pen of voiceful narrative may well,
That solemn congress in the forest call
A thrilling and romantic spectacle:
The trunks of oaken monarchs, huge and tall,
Were the rough columns of their council-hall;
Thick bows were interwoven overhead,
And winds made music with their leafy pall:
Below, a tangled sea of brushwood spread,
Through which, to far-off wild, the beaten war-path led.
That solemn congress in the forest call
A thrilling and romantic spectacle:
The trunks of oaken monarchs, huge and tall,
Were the rough columns of their council-hall;
Thick bows were interwoven overhead,
And winds made music with their leafy pall:
Below, a tangled sea of brushwood spread,
Through which, to far-off wild, the beaten war-path led.
Few were the whites in number, and about
The council fire were gathered dusky throngs
From whose dark bosoms time had not washed out
The bitter memory of recent wrongs.
Some longed to wake their ancient battle songs,
And on the reeking spoils of conflict gaze—
Bind the pale captive to the stake with thongs,
And hellish yells of exultation raise,
While shrivelled up his form, and blackened in the blaze.
The council fire were gathered dusky throngs
From whose dark bosoms time had not washed out
The bitter memory of recent wrongs.
Some longed to wake their ancient battle songs,
And on the reeking spoils of conflict gaze—
Bind the pale captive to the stake with thongs,
And hellish yells of exultation raise,
While shrivelled up his form, and blackened in the blaze.
The compact for a cession of their land
Was nearly ended, when a far-famed chief
Rose with the lofty bearing of command,
Though lip and brow denoted inward grief:
Nought broke the silence save the rustling leaf
And the low murmur of the lulling wave;
He drew his blanket round him, and a brief,
But proud description of his fathers gave,
Then spoke of perished tribes, and glory in the grave.
Was nearly ended, when a far-famed chief
Rose with the lofty bearing of command,
Though lip and brow denoted inward grief:
Nought broke the silence save the rustling leaf
And the low murmur of the lulling wave;
He drew his blanket round him, and a brief,
But proud description of his fathers gave,
Then spoke of perished tribes, and glory in the grave.
64
“And who be ye”—he said, in scornful tones,
And glance of kindling hate—“who offer gold
For hunting grounds made holy by the bones
Of our great seers and sagamores of old?
Men who would leave our hearths and altars cold—
Unstring the bow, and break the hunting spear—
Our pleasant huts with sheeted flame infold,
Then drive our starving, wailing race in fear
Beyond the western hills like broken herds of deer!”
And glance of kindling hate—“who offer gold
For hunting grounds made holy by the bones
Of our great seers and sagamores of old?
Men who would leave our hearths and altars cold—
Unstring the bow, and break the hunting spear—
Our pleasant huts with sheeted flame infold,
Then drive our starving, wailing race in fear
Beyond the western hills like broken herds of deer!”
“Wake, On-gue-hon-we! strike the painted post,
And gather quickly for the conflict dire;
Yon Long Knives are forerunners of a host
Thick as the sparks when prairies are on fire:
Let childhood grasp the weapon of his sire—
Arm, arm for deadly struggle, one and all,
While wives and babes to secret haunts retire:
The ghosts of buried fathers on ye call
To guard their ancient tombs from sacrilege, or fall!”
And gather quickly for the conflict dire;
Yon Long Knives are forerunners of a host
Thick as the sparks when prairies are on fire:
Let childhood grasp the weapon of his sire—
Arm, arm for deadly struggle, one and all,
While wives and babes to secret haunts retire:
The ghosts of buried fathers on ye call
To guard their ancient tombs from sacrilege, or fall!”
Dark forms rose up, and brows began to lower,
While many a savage eye destruction glared;
But one came forth in that portentous hour
Ere shaft was aimed, or dagger fully bared,
And hushed the storm:—old Honneyawus dared
His voice upraise; and by his friendly aid
The knife was sheathed—the pioneer was spared.
Above that humane warrior of the shade
Let marble tell the tale in lines that cannot fade.
While many a savage eye destruction glared;
But one came forth in that portentous hour
Ere shaft was aimed, or dagger fully bared,
And hushed the storm:—old Honneyawus dared
His voice upraise; and by his friendly aid
The knife was sheathed—the pioneer was spared.
Above that humane warrior of the shade
Let marble tell the tale in lines that cannot fade.
Tribes of the solemn League! from ancient seats
Swept by the whites like autumn leaves away,
Faint are your records of heroic feats,
And few the traces of your former sway;
Loved woodland haunts, deep, shadowy and gray,
No longer wave defiance to the roar
And rush of whirlwinds 'mid their cool retreats;
The wild beast harbors in their depths no more,
And ploughmen turn the glebe they darkly clothed of yore.
Swept by the whites like autumn leaves away,
Faint are your records of heroic feats,
And few the traces of your former sway;
Loved woodland haunts, deep, shadowy and gray,
No longer wave defiance to the roar
And rush of whirlwinds 'mid their cool retreats;
The wild beast harbors in their depths no more,
And ploughmen turn the glebe they darkly clothed of yore.
65
Tribes of the mighty! dwindled to a few,
Dejected, trampled children of despair;
And only like their ancestors in hue,
And the wild beauty of their flowing hair;
With laughter rude inquisitors lay bare
The ghastly secrets of your green old graves,
To moulder, peacemeal, in dissolving air;
Forgetful of past glory, when your braves
Surrounding nations made poor, weak, dependant slaves.
Dejected, trampled children of despair;
And only like their ancestors in hue,
And the wild beauty of their flowing hair;
With laughter rude inquisitors lay bare
The ghastly secrets of your green old graves,
To moulder, peacemeal, in dissolving air;
Forgetful of past glory, when your braves
Surrounding nations made poor, weak, dependant slaves.
Where are your hoary magi—wrinkled seers—
Clad in their dread apparelling, who made
Rude, rocky altars, stained and mossed with years,
And held terrific orgies in the shade?
Where is the pliant oar of slender blade
That urged the birchen vessel on the stream?
Your council halls with cedar bark o'erlaid?
Gone, like the shapes that populate a dream,
Or twinkling dew drank up by morn's effulgent beam.
Clad in their dread apparelling, who made
Rude, rocky altars, stained and mossed with years,
And held terrific orgies in the shade?
Where is the pliant oar of slender blade
That urged the birchen vessel on the stream?
Your council halls with cedar bark o'erlaid?
Gone, like the shapes that populate a dream,
Or twinkling dew drank up by morn's effulgent beam.
And where those whooping legions, fierce and free,
Who back the tide of French invasion bore,
Defeating warriors trained beyond the sea,
And bathing guarded Montreal in gore?
Their day of power is ended, and no more
Ring out their pæans louder than the sound
Of booming waters on an iron shore,
While captive hundreds, bleeding, faint, and bound,
Expire in flame, or fall transpierced by many a wound.
Who back the tide of French invasion bore,
Defeating warriors trained beyond the sea,
And bathing guarded Montreal in gore?
Their day of power is ended, and no more
Ring out their pæans louder than the sound
Of booming waters on an iron shore,
While captive hundreds, bleeding, faint, and bound,
Expire in flame, or fall transpierced by many a wound.
Ye were wild Romans of this Western Land
When the far parent of our inland seas
Beheld your bowmen print his barren strand
Flushed with a thousand woodland victories;
And heard the war-shout on his frosty breeze,
While the red monarchs of the bleak domain
Bowed to your fierce supremacy their knees;
And when the scared Neperceneans of Maine
Sought Hudson's icy bay to shun the captive chain.
When the far parent of our inland seas
Beheld your bowmen print his barren strand
Flushed with a thousand woodland victories;
And heard the war-shout on his frosty breeze,
While the red monarchs of the bleak domain
Bowed to your fierce supremacy their knees;
And when the scared Neperceneans of Maine
Sought Hudson's icy bay to shun the captive chain.
66
Where are your thrilling orators, who caught
Their eloquence from nature, and allied
Wild powers of fancy to the glow of thought,
And grace of gesture to ancestral pride?
Their sylvan voices on the wind have died:
And your last master of the honeyed tone,
Commanding port and gesture dignified,
No longer wails an empire overthrown,
And near his couch of dust, Niagara makes moan.
Their eloquence from nature, and allied
Wild powers of fancy to the glow of thought,
And grace of gesture to ancestral pride?
Their sylvan voices on the wind have died:
And your last master of the honeyed tone,
Commanding port and gesture dignified,
No longer wails an empire overthrown,
And near his couch of dust, Niagara makes moan.
All hail our early settlers! though with storm
Their sky of being was obscured and black,
And Peril, in his most appalling form,
Opposed their rugged march, and warned them back;
They faltered not, nor fainted in the track
That led to empire; but with patience bore
Cold, parching thirst, and fever's dread attack;
While ancient twilight, to return no more,
From far Otsego fled to Erie's rock-bound shore.
Their sky of being was obscured and black,
And Peril, in his most appalling form,
Opposed their rugged march, and warned them back;
They faltered not, nor fainted in the track
That led to empire; but with patience bore
Cold, parching thirst, and fever's dread attack;
While ancient twilight, to return no more,
From far Otsego fled to Erie's rock-bound shore.
They toiled, though Hunger with his wasted mien,
Stalked through their infant settlements, and night
Lured from the gloomy cavern, gaunt and lean,
Droves of disturbing wolves that hated light,
Some wan and trembling mourner to affright
With their dismaying howls, around the place
Where, coldly still, and newly hid from sight,
Earth folded loved ones in her damp embrace,
Without recording tomb, their forest mounds to grace!
Stalked through their infant settlements, and night
Lured from the gloomy cavern, gaunt and lean,
Droves of disturbing wolves that hated light,
Some wan and trembling mourner to affright
With their dismaying howls, around the place
Where, coldly still, and newly hid from sight,
Earth folded loved ones in her damp embrace,
Without recording tomb, their forest mounds to grace!
From clearing rude, and dismal swamp undrained,
Fumes of decaying vegetation rose;
While the fell Genius of Distemper reigned,
And filled the newly-opening realm with woes;
Brave Manhood smiting—though his lusty blows
Tall ranks of warrior-oaks in dust had bowed,—
And robbing widowed Beauty of her rose,
Or weaving, while the voice of wail was loud,
Round childhood, early-lost, the drapery of the shroud.
Fumes of decaying vegetation rose;
While the fell Genius of Distemper reigned,
And filled the newly-opening realm with woes;
Brave Manhood smiting—though his lusty blows
Tall ranks of warrior-oaks in dust had bowed,—
And robbing widowed Beauty of her rose,
Or weaving, while the voice of wail was loud,
Round childhood, early-lost, the drapery of the shroud.
67
On his low couch of suffering, ere death
Cooled the mad fever of his throbbing vein,
And hushed the hoarse, deep rattling of his breath,
In dreams the settler homeward went again;
And absent comrades of his youth, in vain,
While sped the weary hours, invoked to quell
The burning, beating pulses of his brain,
And darkness from his blinded orbs dispel,
In tones too wildly strange for words to picture well.
Cooled the mad fever of his throbbing vein,
And hushed the hoarse, deep rattling of his breath,
In dreams the settler homeward went again;
And absent comrades of his youth, in vain,
While sped the weary hours, invoked to quell
The burning, beating pulses of his brain,
And darkness from his blinded orbs dispel,
In tones too wildly strange for words to picture well.
Born in the lap of plenty and of wealth
Mindless too oft are children of the sire
Who purchased, at the fearful price of health—
And even life, their heritage!—the lyre
Should call forth music from its proudest wire
In praise of men who brave, to bless their kind,
Tempest, the sword, foul pestilence and fire;
Their names in grateful hearts should be enshrined,
When crumbled are their bones—their ashes on the wind:
Mindless too oft are children of the sire
Who purchased, at the fearful price of health—
And even life, their heritage!—the lyre
Should call forth music from its proudest wire
In praise of men who brave, to bless their kind,
Tempest, the sword, foul pestilence and fire;
Their names in grateful hearts should be enshrined,
When crumbled are their bones—their ashes on the wind:
And those who left the venerated breast,
And soil of proud New England, to reclaim
Our smiling El Dorado of the West
From centuries of gloom, and haunts of game
Change to Arcadian loveliness, and tame
The virgin rudeness of the shaded mould,
Should not be unremembered:—on the same
Eternal page where Fame, in lines of gold,
Hath pilgrim virtue traced, their names should be enrolled.
And soil of proud New England, to reclaim
Our smiling El Dorado of the West
From centuries of gloom, and haunts of game
Change to Arcadian loveliness, and tame
The virgin rudeness of the shaded mould,
Should not be unremembered:—on the same
Eternal page where Fame, in lines of gold,
Hath pilgrim virtue traced, their names should be enrolled.
Their triumphs are around us:—lawn and mead,
Spreading their verdant carpets far away
Whereon the flock and lowing heifer feed,
And the gay yeoman trills his rustic lay,
Were hidden lately from the glance of day,
And ranged by untamed animals of chase;
While yon fair sheet of limpid waters lay,
Known only to a roving hunter race,
A bright, neglected gem within a desert place.
Spreading their verdant carpets far away
Whereon the flock and lowing heifer feed,
And the gay yeoman trills his rustic lay,
Were hidden lately from the glance of day,
And ranged by untamed animals of chase;
While yon fair sheet of limpid waters lay,
Known only to a roving hunter race,
A bright, neglected gem within a desert place.
68
Now, Art leaves shining footprints on the shore,
And, “dancing to their own sweet minstrelsy,”
The waves, like vassals, kiss the flashing oar
That speeds the barge of commerce; while the sky
Bends over domes that lift bright roofs on high,
Raised by a spell than hers more wondrous far
Who woke the seer at Endor—glancing eye
Beholds no child of want, the scene to mar,
And on no fairer spot look down sun, moon and star.
And, “dancing to their own sweet minstrelsy,”
The waves, like vassals, kiss the flashing oar
That speeds the barge of commerce; while the sky
Bends over domes that lift bright roofs on high,
Raised by a spell than hers more wondrous far
Who woke the seer at Endor—glancing eye
Beholds no child of want, the scene to mar,
And on no fairer spot look down sun, moon and star.
Offspring of worthy sires! while wave and land
To make ye blest their treasuries unlock,
And glory beckons with inviting hand,—
Cherish the graces of the parent stock.
While shoal, entangling reef, and hidden rock
Wreck nations floating on a factious sea,
Too much abased to brave the whelming shock,—
Here the bright wing of lordly thought is free,
And no imbruted serf to pomp inclines the knee.
To make ye blest their treasuries unlock,
And glory beckons with inviting hand,—
Cherish the graces of the parent stock.
While shoal, entangling reef, and hidden rock
Wreck nations floating on a factious sea,
Too much abased to brave the whelming shock,—
Here the bright wing of lordly thought is free,
And no imbruted serf to pomp inclines the knee.
Be Pioneers of mind! with glowing eye
Pierce wilds of doubt, and streams of darkness ford;
Within the boundless realms of knowledge lie
Neglected gems in cave and grotto stored,
Bright Cyprian Isles, and Edens unexplored!
Those laurelled kings of science, who have won
The highest peaks of wisdom, sloth abhorred:
While birds of night the dazzling noontide shun,
Young eagles flap the cloud, and look upon the sun.
Pierce wilds of doubt, and streams of darkness ford;
Within the boundless realms of knowledge lie
Neglected gems in cave and grotto stored,
Bright Cyprian Isles, and Edens unexplored!
Those laurelled kings of science, who have won
The highest peaks of wisdom, sloth abhorred:
While birds of night the dazzling noontide shun,
Young eagles flap the cloud, and look upon the sun.
The world unfolds its portals! from the bowers
Of cloistered learning go ye forth, while youth
Wreathes round the brow a coronal of flowers,
And far and wide extend the bounds of truth;
Let not demoniac vice, with venomed tooth,
Destroy ennobling principle, and nurse
The germ of future crime, remorse and ruth;
Bliss is the meed of virtue, but a curse
Falls on the wretch who blights the Moral Universe.
Of cloistered learning go ye forth, while youth
Wreathes round the brow a coronal of flowers,
And far and wide extend the bounds of truth;
Let not demoniac vice, with venomed tooth,
Destroy ennobling principle, and nurse
The germ of future crime, remorse and ruth;
Bliss is the meed of virtue, but a curse
Falls on the wretch who blights the Moral Universe.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |