 | The rise of the West, or a prospect of the Mississippi valley |  |
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THE RISE OF THE WEST;
or a Prospect of the Mississippi Valley.
From Helder's shades I take my lengthened way,
O'er hills that glitter in the evening ray;
By groves that stretch on sweet Owasco's side,
Or, bright Ontario's oceanic tide,
Where, far around while nature's charms are spread,
Niagara drowns the solitary tread.
Gay, pictur'd scenes of water, woods, and light,
Spread as I go, and as I view delight;
Islands and shores, and groves and lakes abound,
And nature blooms a new Arcadia round.
O'er hills that glitter in the evening ray;
By groves that stretch on sweet Owasco's side,
Or, bright Ontario's oceanic tide,
Where, far around while nature's charms are spread,
Niagara drowns the solitary tread.
Gay, pictur'd scenes of water, woods, and light,
Spread as I go, and as I view delight;
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And nature blooms a new Arcadia round.
West—westward, are my footsteps onward led,
Where half the land, the waters overspread;
Where Huron gleams—a sea of liquid blue,
And the plumed Indian plies his light canoe:
Or where, in light, beneath a broader sky,
August Superior breaks upon the eye:
And many a cliff, impending from its brow,
Glooms o'er the waste of crystal waves below.
Where half the land, the waters overspread;
Where Huron gleams—a sea of liquid blue,
And the plumed Indian plies his light canoe:
Or where, in light, beneath a broader sky,
August Superior breaks upon the eye:
And many a cliff, impending from its brow,
Glooms o'er the waste of crystal waves below.
A sterner toil the prospect now demands,
Where dark Okaug or lone Itasca stands;
Commingling glooms besetting all the way,
The day's hard toil, the night's more still dismay—
Woods—where the sun is scarcely seen on high,
And streams, that haste to quit a polar sky—
Lakes choked with reeds—the beaver hunter's pride!
And grassy wastes, immeasurably wide,
Where life's best toil a scanty pittance brings,
And Mississippi, draws his infant springs.
Where dark Okaug or lone Itasca stands;
Commingling glooms besetting all the way,
The day's hard toil, the night's more still dismay—
Woods—where the sun is scarcely seen on high,
And streams, that haste to quit a polar sky—
Lakes choked with reeds—the beaver hunter's pride!
And grassy wastes, immeasurably wide,
Where life's best toil a scanty pittance brings,
And Mississippi, draws his infant springs.
Proud, swelling stream! from sources such as these,
Thou gatherest force to pierce remotest seas;
Sublime example, to the sons of fate,
How small effects are gathered into great.
Pride of the land! unequall'd in thy course,
What matchless waters swell thy onward force!
Ohio, teeming with a thousand floods,
Missouri, nurtured in Pacific woods!
The rolling Arkansas, whose wreck and tide,
From Ozark hills, and Mexic mountains glide.
These, are but parts of the wide-gather'd stores
That swell thy current, and augment thy shores.
What ocean-plains, illimitably great,
Spread from thy banks, and raise thy sullen state;
What cataracts tremble, and what lakes abound!
A maze of waters, peerless and profound.
A thousand miles the voyager may go,
Adown thy stream, yet find it onward flow;
A thousand more, and still his course shall be,
A thousand miles from thy recipient sea;
Where spreading out o'er reedy marshes wide,
Unrescued Hollands lie beneath the tide.
Thou gatherest force to pierce remotest seas;
Sublime example, to the sons of fate,
How small effects are gathered into great.
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What matchless waters swell thy onward force!
Ohio, teeming with a thousand floods,
Missouri, nurtured in Pacific woods!
The rolling Arkansas, whose wreck and tide,
From Ozark hills, and Mexic mountains glide.
These, are but parts of the wide-gather'd stores
That swell thy current, and augment thy shores.
What ocean-plains, illimitably great,
Spread from thy banks, and raise thy sullen state;
What cataracts tremble, and what lakes abound!
A maze of waters, peerless and profound.
A thousand miles the voyager may go,
Adown thy stream, yet find it onward flow;
A thousand more, and still his course shall be,
A thousand miles from thy recipient sea;
Where spreading out o'er reedy marshes wide,
Unrescued Hollands lie beneath the tide.
Swift as my bark along thy waters flies,
Cliffs, grottos, forests, dance before my eyes—
A varied picture starts at once to view,
Replete with tints for ever fresh and new.
At first, far distant in the icy zone,
Broad woods, and silver lakes thy fountains own!
Where bounds the roe-buck, or his antler dry,
Hung up to view, denotes th' Algonquin nigh
Soon, nobler waters rush to swell the tide,
Falls glitter—rapids murmur—rivers glide;
And as the moving mass pervades the land,
Rocks rent apart, like giant castles stand.
Day after day, the swelling torrent grows,
Still broader, deeper, stronger as it flows;
Like some huge monster of the serpent kind,
That o'er the plain, at random, seems to wind;
But if a foe within his path arise,
Coiled in his might, he hisses and defies.
So chased by rocks each cliff augments thy force,
Till states are sundered by thy royal course;
The wide, wild on-rush, puts each coast in fear,
For e'en Missouri is a tribute here.
The sea, as if respectful of the foe,
O'er many a league, hath ceased to ebb and flow,
Choked by rent plains, and forests headlong hurled,
The continental dregs of half a world.
Cliffs, grottos, forests, dance before my eyes—
A varied picture starts at once to view,
Replete with tints for ever fresh and new.
At first, far distant in the icy zone,
Broad woods, and silver lakes thy fountains own!
Where bounds the roe-buck, or his antler dry,
Hung up to view, denotes th' Algonquin nigh
Soon, nobler waters rush to swell the tide,
Falls glitter—rapids murmur—rivers glide;
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Rocks rent apart, like giant castles stand.
Day after day, the swelling torrent grows,
Still broader, deeper, stronger as it flows;
Like some huge monster of the serpent kind,
That o'er the plain, at random, seems to wind;
But if a foe within his path arise,
Coiled in his might, he hisses and defies.
So chased by rocks each cliff augments thy force,
Till states are sundered by thy royal course;
The wide, wild on-rush, puts each coast in fear,
For e'en Missouri is a tribute here.
The sea, as if respectful of the foe,
O'er many a league, hath ceased to ebb and flow,
Choked by rent plains, and forests headlong hurled,
The continental dregs of half a world.
Across thy vale, the traveller may tread,
While a whole season whispers o'er his head,
And still, a summer's moon shall wax and wane,
Before he scales the broad Columbic chain.
Oft in his way, he hears the panther's cry,
Or sees the bison in disorder fly;
Oft stops to view, in lowland dark and lone,
The massy tusk, or huge protruding bone;
Uncouth remains of nature's early reign,
When the big mammoth stalk'd across the plain.
Happy perchance, if he escapes to meet,
Along the sands, the brown bear's grizzly feet;
Or shuns betimes, upon the desert mart,
The Pawnee lance, or wild Aurick'ree dart.
And frequent in his path, he stops to view,
The spreading plain, and distant mountain blue;
Or starts to see, amid the forest shade,
The open cavern, or the broad cascade,
Fountains that hiss, or sport a twinkling flame,
Streams all unsung, and falls without a name.
While a whole season whispers o'er his head,
And still, a summer's moon shall wax and wane,
Before he scales the broad Columbic chain.
Oft in his way, he hears the panther's cry,
Or sees the bison in disorder fly;
Oft stops to view, in lowland dark and lone,
The massy tusk, or huge protruding bone;
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When the big mammoth stalk'd across the plain.
Happy perchance, if he escapes to meet,
Along the sands, the brown bear's grizzly feet;
Or shuns betimes, upon the desert mart,
The Pawnee lance, or wild Aurick'ree dart.
And frequent in his path, he stops to view,
The spreading plain, and distant mountain blue;
Or starts to see, amid the forest shade,
The open cavern, or the broad cascade,
Fountains that hiss, or sport a twinkling flame,
Streams all unsung, and falls without a name.
Yet, though no rhyme, thy banks to fame prolong,
Beyond the warrior's chaunt, the boatman's song,
More happy in thy fate, than Ganges' tide,
No purblind millions kneel upon thy side.
Beyond the Nile—beyond the Niger blest,
No bleeding Parke—no dying Ledyard prest;
Or if one fate, foredoomed the Gault to bleed,
Success o'erpaid, and cancelled half the deed.
Not in hot sands, or savage deserts lost,
A healthful vigor blooms along thy coast,
And ever blest, above the orient train,
No crouching serf here clanks the feudal chain.
E'en the poor Indian, who in nature's pride,
Serenely scans thy long descending tide,
Turns in his thoughts, thy course 'twixt sea and sea.
And shouts to think his noble sons are free.
Beyond the warrior's chaunt, the boatman's song,
More happy in thy fate, than Ganges' tide,
No purblind millions kneel upon thy side.
Beyond the Nile—beyond the Niger blest,
No bleeding Parke—no dying Ledyard prest;
Or if one fate, foredoomed the Gault to bleed,
Success o'erpaid, and cancelled half the deed.
Not in hot sands, or savage deserts lost,
A healthful vigor blooms along thy coast,
And ever blest, above the orient train,
No crouching serf here clanks the feudal chain.
E'en the poor Indian, who in nature's pride,
Serenely scans thy long descending tide,
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And shouts to think his noble sons are free.
Here, as I stand upon the midland plain,
That gives to either gulf its ample drain;
Here, hemm'd by waters, on the polar shore,
Baffin behind and Mexico before.
Though distance spreads her veil before my eyes,
I see in fancy, half the world arise,
Mountains and gulfs, and distant sea and sail,
And each bold trait that bounds the mighty vale;
On either hand a chain of mountains rude,
Shoots high above the waving sea of wood,
And shining waters, sands, and desert plains,
Where in his might, the roving Indian reigns.
This, bars approach along th' Atlantic side,
And that heaves back the vast Pacific tide;
While bold in front, the yellow Indies plac'd,
Like golden islands, gild the watery waste.
The true Hesperides! where crowned with fame,
Columbus first, in glory set his name;
Dark oceans past—a monarch's flag unfurled,
And gave to wondering man, another world.
That gives to either gulf its ample drain;
Here, hemm'd by waters, on the polar shore,
Baffin behind and Mexico before.
Though distance spreads her veil before my eyes,
I see in fancy, half the world arise,
Mountains and gulfs, and distant sea and sail,
And each bold trait that bounds the mighty vale;
On either hand a chain of mountains rude,
Shoots high above the waving sea of wood,
And shining waters, sands, and desert plains,
Where in his might, the roving Indian reigns.
This, bars approach along th' Atlantic side,
And that heaves back the vast Pacific tide;
While bold in front, the yellow Indies plac'd,
Like golden islands, gild the watery waste.
The true Hesperides! where crowned with fame,
Columbus first, in glory set his name;
Dark oceans past—a monarch's flag unfurled,
And gave to wondering man, another world.
Far to the left, the glorious lakes expand,
In bright effulgence o'er the fruitful land,
Huron and Erie—wild Igoma
free,
And pendant Michigan itself a sea.
With all the softer, lesser, lovelier train,
That fill th' illimitable watery chain,
Pure, bright, and clear, they stretch—a shining span,
Sublime Niagara, glittering in the van;
Pouring, as oft the traveller stops to hear,
An Illiad of waters on the ear.
In bright effulgence o'er the fruitful land,
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And pendant Michigan itself a sea.
With all the softer, lesser, lovelier train,
That fill th' illimitable watery chain,
Pure, bright, and clear, they stretch—a shining span,
Sublime Niagara, glittering in the van;
Pouring, as oft the traveller stops to hear,
An Illiad of waters on the ear.
The statesman as he hither turns his eyes,
Sees only marts, towns, cities, states arise,
And smiling points the yet unpeopled shore,
That opens still an ample space for more.
The stranger, from beyond the distant main,
Whom gust of fame impels, or search of gain,
Casts in his mind what home's sweet scenes recal,
And sighs to think his native streams so small;
No more his hopes, the Rhone, or Rhine fulfil,
And classic Thames, seems dwindled to a rill.
Far other aims the man of God inspires,
Whose bosom swells with philanthropic fires,
He sees what future millions here shall stand,
To spread Messiah's kingdom in the land.
Sees only marts, towns, cities, states arise,
And smiling points the yet unpeopled shore,
That opens still an ample space for more.
The stranger, from beyond the distant main,
Whom gust of fame impels, or search of gain,
Casts in his mind what home's sweet scenes recal,
And sighs to think his native streams so small;
No more his hopes, the Rhone, or Rhine fulfil,
And classic Thames, seems dwindled to a rill.
Far other aims the man of God inspires,
Whose bosom swells with philanthropic fires,
He sees what future millions here shall stand,
To spread Messiah's kingdom in the land.
O'er all the scene, incomparably great,
Kind airs are wafted, and a temper'd heat,
Soils, deep, and fattened with unnumbered floods,
Expanding plains, and green aspiring woods—
Cliffs,—where the eye surveys a length of ground,
And falls, that spread in spangled showers around;
Waters, to drive wheel the wheel, or sport the sail,
And winds, that still with measured force prevail.
Nature in vigor strong, here kindly warms,
Each fruitful shape, and glows in ample forms,
Bird, beast and plant, are seen of shapely size,
And the deep forest all its tribes supplies;
Full, fair, luxuriant; strong of wing and foot,
From the fierce falcon, to the hoof armed brute.
But chief, the waters charm the wondering soul,
A mazy mass, that wanders o'er the whole,
Joins place to place, magnificent of plan,
And nought seems unreplenished here, but man.
Kind airs are wafted, and a temper'd heat,
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Expanding plains, and green aspiring woods—
Cliffs,—where the eye surveys a length of ground,
And falls, that spread in spangled showers around;
Waters, to drive wheel the wheel, or sport the sail,
And winds, that still with measured force prevail.
Nature in vigor strong, here kindly warms,
Each fruitful shape, and glows in ample forms,
Bird, beast and plant, are seen of shapely size,
And the deep forest all its tribes supplies;
Full, fair, luxuriant; strong of wing and foot,
From the fierce falcon, to the hoof armed brute.
But chief, the waters charm the wondering soul,
A mazy mass, that wanders o'er the whole,
Joins place to place, magnificent of plan,
And nought seems unreplenished here, but man.
And man is here! man in affliction tried,
A sufferer from beyond th' Atlantic tide,
Who left his land, his own lov'd Albion's shore,
That he, his God unshackled might adore;
Without the form—the pomp of book and stole,
Free as the aspirations of his soul,
A weary pilgrim o'er the briny waste,
Whom depth of woods, and savage men embrac'd.
Still ceased not tyranny, with poison'd spear,
To vex this man with tasks and burdens here,
Tasks of the mind and body, taste, sight, sound—
That bow'd, and bow'd, and prest him to the ground,
However courteous, loyal, wise, or brave,
And still would scourge and bind him as a slave.
Ah! England hide the secret as you can,
Thy monarchs here, but ruled to shackle man.
A sufferer from beyond th' Atlantic tide,
Who left his land, his own lov'd Albion's shore,
That he, his God unshackled might adore;
Without the form—the pomp of book and stole,
Free as the aspirations of his soul,
A weary pilgrim o'er the briny waste,
Whom depth of woods, and savage men embrac'd.
Still ceased not tyranny, with poison'd spear,
To vex this man with tasks and burdens here,
Tasks of the mind and body, taste, sight, sound—
That bow'd, and bow'd, and prest him to the ground,
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And still would scourge and bind him as a slave.
Ah! England hide the secret as you can,
Thy monarchs here, but ruled to shackle man.
Oppressed he rose—but rose in hope and fear,
Against the parent proud, to wield the spear,
And feign would yet have dropt it, but still—still
Might claimed a blind assent to despot will;
That test broke off, what love had long delay'd
And Freedom rose, and shook the shining blade.
That freedom, nurst of yore in Cato's breast,
Found other Catoes in the distant west,
Flash'd in its ire, from Warren's battle sword,
And Laurens, rais'd superior to a lord,
Taught Lafayette to cast his land behind,
And burn'd unquench'd in Washington's great mind.
Against the parent proud, to wield the spear,
And feign would yet have dropt it, but still—still
Might claimed a blind assent to despot will;
That test broke off, what love had long delay'd
And Freedom rose, and shook the shining blade.
That freedom, nurst of yore in Cato's breast,
Found other Catoes in the distant west,
Flash'd in its ire, from Warren's battle sword,
And Laurens, rais'd superior to a lord,
Taught Lafayette to cast his land behind,
And burn'd unquench'd in Washington's great mind.
Man, thus afflicted—thus in peril schooled,
Cast forth from Europe, hated and misruled,
Forsaking all, that binds in every age,
His home, his country, and his heritage.
Not long delayed to prove—so heaven designed,
The innate vigor of the free born mind;
Calm he arose, when seven long years were o'er,
A sovereign, where a suppliant before;
Truth's starry wreath with liberty entwined,
And made the West, a refuge for mankind.
Cast forth from Europe, hated and misruled,
Forsaking all, that binds in every age,
His home, his country, and his heritage.
Not long delayed to prove—so heaven designed,
The innate vigor of the free born mind;
Calm he arose, when seven long years were o'er,
A sovereign, where a suppliant before;
Truth's starry wreath with liberty entwined,
And made the West, a refuge for mankind.
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Wide o'er the land, the race athletic spread,
They wooed each science, plied each busy trade,
And by the needle led, or star-lit sail,
Explored each coast, and rode in every gale,
Nor less intent, to fill th' expectant hour,
By well aimed thought, revealed the springs of power,
Each verdant vale, displayed the murmuring mill,
Spires, villas, temples, rose on every hill,
Till swelling numbers peopled every shore,
And still new numbers deeper woods explore;
O'er Alleghany's summit swept the band,
War in their front, and war on either hand;
For now another foe arose in might,
And filled the land with terror and affright.
E'en the proud Indian—fugitive of God!
Who seas and lands, still vainly treads, or trod,
The Mongol of the West—light armed he stood,
Lord of the plains, the mountains and the wood,
To him opposed advanced the Saxon line,
Calm in their might, and fixed in their design.
They wooed each science, plied each busy trade,
And by the needle led, or star-lit sail,
Explored each coast, and rode in every gale,
Nor less intent, to fill th' expectant hour,
By well aimed thought, revealed the springs of power,
Each verdant vale, displayed the murmuring mill,
Spires, villas, temples, rose on every hill,
Till swelling numbers peopled every shore,
And still new numbers deeper woods explore;
O'er Alleghany's summit swept the band,
War in their front, and war on either hand;
For now another foe arose in might,
And filled the land with terror and affright.
E'en the proud Indian—fugitive of God!
Who seas and lands, still vainly treads, or trod,
The Mongol of the West—light armed he stood,
Lord of the plains, the mountains and the wood,
To him opposed advanced the Saxon line,
Calm in their might, and fixed in their design.
Again the rage of ire and battle burns,
Sword, axe, and plow engage the hand by turns,
Forever ready in their skill and might,
Stern at the plow, unyielding in the fight.
As seasons wane, the arrowy foe retires,
Dim, and more dim become his battle fires,
Faint, and more faint, his piercing yells arise,
Till, deep desponding, westward fast he flies;
Oft as he goes, he casts in fond review,
The dear loved scenes his youthful vigor knew;
And sadly chants as fast their hues decline,
“These, oh my children, these fair lands were mine!
“Here in my youth, I drew the warlike bow,
“Pierced the proud hind, or struck the lurking foe;
“Here, rest my father's bones, by this marked stone,
“And here, at last, I hoped to lay my own;
“But fate denies the boon—I go—I go
“With yon bright sun, far off to lay me low.”
Sword, axe, and plow engage the hand by turns,
Forever ready in their skill and might,
Stern at the plow, unyielding in the fight.
As seasons wane, the arrowy foe retires,
Dim, and more dim become his battle fires,
Faint, and more faint, his piercing yells arise,
Till, deep desponding, westward fast he flies;
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The dear loved scenes his youthful vigor knew;
And sadly chants as fast their hues decline,
“These, oh my children, these fair lands were mine!
“Here in my youth, I drew the warlike bow,
“Pierced the proud hind, or struck the lurking foe;
“Here, rest my father's bones, by this marked stone,
“And here, at last, I hoped to lay my own;
“But fate denies the boon—I go—I go
“With yon bright sun, far off to lay me low.”
Now poised on yonder mountains rocky brow,
In bitter thought, he scans the vale below,
Aghast, he sees, far gleaming to the skies,
That rushing stream, whence all his fears arise,
The great, the bold, the proud, the boast of all—
Told in one word, we Mississippi call;
Awhile he stands, mute, gazing on the shore,
Then plies across, with half reluctant oar.
In bitter thought, he scans the vale below,
Aghast, he sees, far gleaming to the skies,
That rushing stream, whence all his fears arise,
The great, the bold, the proud, the boast of all—
Told in one word, we Mississippi call;
Awhile he stands, mute, gazing on the shore,
Then plies across, with half reluctant oar.
'Tis done! the Indian is no more opprest,
Free, on the bounding prairies of the west;
No longer bound to pine in want and woe,
Around his door the flowers of plenty grow;
No longer doomed to feel the legal glave,
And bitter taunt that marked him for a slave,
His mind expatiates o'er a scene of rest,
With equal laws, and independence blest.
Yet, think not these, are gifts the chace imparts,
Fame's forest lures, or war's barbaric arts,
Arts that chained down to misery obscure,
His manly race, and kept them bound and poor;
Ah no! his grasp relaxes spear and bow,
Taught now to guide the shuttle and the plow,
Flocks claim his care, and herds his pastures yield,
And all the bounties of the furrowed field;
These fix his skill, awake sublimer aims,
And light his altars up, with purer flames,
For these, he scouts each idol from his sight,
And Zion's hymns replace the horrid rite.
Joy claps his hands, the sounds of mirth prevail,
And peace and population fill the vale;
Such, are the scenes, o'er which the good man still,
In joy exults, and trusts in heaven to fill.
Free, on the bounding prairies of the west;
No longer bound to pine in want and woe,
Around his door the flowers of plenty grow;
No longer doomed to feel the legal glave,
And bitter taunt that marked him for a slave,
His mind expatiates o'er a scene of rest,
With equal laws, and independence blest.
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Fame's forest lures, or war's barbaric arts,
Arts that chained down to misery obscure,
His manly race, and kept them bound and poor;
Ah no! his grasp relaxes spear and bow,
Taught now to guide the shuttle and the plow,
Flocks claim his care, and herds his pastures yield,
And all the bounties of the furrowed field;
These fix his skill, awake sublimer aims,
And light his altars up, with purer flames,
For these, he scouts each idol from his sight,
And Zion's hymns replace the horrid rite.
Joy claps his hands, the sounds of mirth prevail,
And peace and population fill the vale;
Such, are the scenes, o'er which the good man still,
In joy exults, and trusts in heaven to fill.
All ranks, all nations here securely meet,
Led from afar, and find a bland retreat,
From Arno's cliffs, the frugal herdsman hies,
Alps sternest tops; or Gallia's kindlier skies,
From England's vales, where art and nature smile,
The winding Elb, or Erin's verdant isle;
Together mingling under western skies,
Wealth owns their toils, and bids the nation rise.
State builds on state, to mark the growing vale,
The shout of millions mingles in the gale.
E'en now, although but few decades be ran,
Hope thrills with heaven-born destinies for man,
And casting far behind the deeds of yore,
Sees radiant glories crown the western shore.
Led from afar, and find a bland retreat,
From Arno's cliffs, the frugal herdsman hies,
Alps sternest tops; or Gallia's kindlier skies,
From England's vales, where art and nature smile,
The winding Elb, or Erin's verdant isle;
Together mingling under western skies,
Wealth owns their toils, and bids the nation rise.
State builds on state, to mark the growing vale,
The shout of millions mingles in the gale.
E'en now, although but few decades be ran,
Hope thrills with heaven-born destinies for man,
19
Sees radiant glories crown the western shore.
These are thy hopes Columbia—these to fill,
Be the just aim of sage and patriot still,
To what new triumphs man shall here attain,
What arts shall grace, or arms deface the plain;
What gifts shall bless or judgments shade with woe;
Ill may the past, the hidden future show,
Such is the rapid, such the bright career,
That marks the rise of population here.
Perhaps the busy march that erst began,
From Eden's gates; the pilgrimage of man;
Spreading from bower to bower, from shade to shade,
From land to land, shall here at last be stayed;
Closed the last act in war's malign career,
And peace begin her blissful empire here.
Be the just aim of sage and patriot still,
To what new triumphs man shall here attain,
What arts shall grace, or arms deface the plain;
What gifts shall bless or judgments shade with woe;
Ill may the past, the hidden future show,
Such is the rapid, such the bright career,
That marks the rise of population here.
Perhaps the busy march that erst began,
From Eden's gates; the pilgrimage of man;
Spreading from bower to bower, from shade to shade,
From land to land, shall here at last be stayed;
Closed the last act in war's malign career,
And peace begin her blissful empire here.
But ah, forbid, whate'er my country's end,
One freeborn hand should tyrant power defend,
Forbid, whate'er its pathway may afford,
Her triumphs should be triumphs of the sword.
Dire, bloody feats, that elder states have tried,
Rose, glittered, triumphed, tottered, sunk and died.
Ah, rather let her spirit and increase,
Shine in the glorious energies of peace;
Arts, science, letters, be her aim and vow,
The pen and pencil, anchor, square, and plow,
The tube and glass by which the starry train,
Are brought to prove how worlds their laws maintain.
Be ours, the forms of nature to unfold,
Her gems of crystal, and her flowers of gold;
To mark the laws that rivet grain to grain,
Shoot through the skies or govern in the plain;
To lead the mind, as by a silken thread,
O'er fields where learning's brightest flowers are spread,
Scan moral truth, and fit mankind to rise,
In wisdom's scales, and ripen for the skies.
Nor shall the muse, a pensive wanderer roam,
Without an altar, and without a home,
But winning new-found glories for her lyre,
Rouse all the land, with truth's and virtue's fire.
Greece built her temples, Rome in purple shone,
Be man our temple, and the mind our throne,
So shall the West, her brightest crown receive,
And shine with jewels, kings could never give.
One freeborn hand should tyrant power defend,
Forbid, whate'er its pathway may afford,
Her triumphs should be triumphs of the sword.
Dire, bloody feats, that elder states have tried,
Rose, glittered, triumphed, tottered, sunk and died.
Ah, rather let her spirit and increase,
Shine in the glorious energies of peace;
Arts, science, letters, be her aim and vow,
The pen and pencil, anchor, square, and plow,
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Are brought to prove how worlds their laws maintain.
Be ours, the forms of nature to unfold,
Her gems of crystal, and her flowers of gold;
To mark the laws that rivet grain to grain,
Shoot through the skies or govern in the plain;
To lead the mind, as by a silken thread,
O'er fields where learning's brightest flowers are spread,
Scan moral truth, and fit mankind to rise,
In wisdom's scales, and ripen for the skies.
Nor shall the muse, a pensive wanderer roam,
Without an altar, and without a home,
But winning new-found glories for her lyre,
Rouse all the land, with truth's and virtue's fire.
Greece built her temples, Rome in purple shone,
Be man our temple, and the mind our throne,
So shall the West, her brightest crown receive,
And shine with jewels, kings could never give.
| The rise of the West, or a prospect of the Mississippi valley | |