 | [The first steamboat, in] The Atlantic souvenir for MDCCCXXXII |  |
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THE FIRST STEAMBOAT.
Who thus o'er the foaming main doth glide?
No sail propels her course,
She heeds not the winds with their sway of pride,
And asks no boon of the angry tide
As she treads the breakers hoarse.
No sail propels her course,
She heeds not the winds with their sway of pride,
And asks no boon of the angry tide
As she treads the breakers hoarse.
No oar she plies with its measured sweep;
But curling dark and high,
Her volumed smoke to the clouds doth creep,
While a snowy line marks the cleaving deep,
A banner of flame on the sky.
But curling dark and high,
Her volumed smoke to the clouds doth creep,
While a snowy line marks the cleaving deep,
A banner of flame on the sky.
The sea, as in terror, uplifted her voice,
From billow to billow it roll'd,
The mermaidens lock'd up their bowers in a trice,
And the monarch whale sought his palace of ice,
While the tocsin of ocean toll'd.
From billow to billow it roll'd,
The mermaidens lock'd up their bowers in a trice,
And the monarch whale sought his palace of ice,
While the tocsin of ocean toll'd.
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More close to its grotto the faint pearl grew,
While the dolphins were waxing pale,
Their warning shells the Tritons blew,
And with urns overturn'd the river nymphs flew
To tell father Neptune the tale.
While the dolphins were waxing pale,
Their warning shells the Tritons blew,
And with urns overturn'd the river nymphs flew
To tell father Neptune the tale.
Old Hudson slept 'neath the curtain of night,
But she furrow'd his heaving breast
With a hissing sound like a serpent sprite,
And the Highlands kindled their beacon light
At the torch of the wonderful guest.
But she furrow'd his heaving breast
With a hissing sound like a serpent sprite,
And the Highlands kindled their beacon light
At the torch of the wonderful guest.
A peaceful bark o'er the waters sped
As this monster form drew near,
From his perilous post the helmsman fled,
And the hailing captain bade with dread
From her demon-wake to steer.
As this monster form drew near,
From his perilous post the helmsman fled,
And the hailing captain bade with dread
From her demon-wake to steer.
Some heard piratical fetters clank
As their vessels pass'd her side,
And they drifted apace towards the rocky bank,
As the poppy-fed Turks from Kanaris shrank,
When his sparkling deck they spied.
As their vessels pass'd her side,
And they drifted apace towards the rocky bank,
As the poppy-fed Turks from Kanaris shrank,
When his sparkling deck they spied.
From the fishermen's cabins the inmates burst,
And were moved in their panic to say,
That the ghosts of the Dutchmen had risen from dust
To smoke their great pipes with a terrible gust
And hasten from Gotham away.
And were moved in their panic to say,
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To smoke their great pipes with a terrible gust
And hasten from Gotham away.
She seem'd like the prophet bird of death
To the gazing Indian's thought:
The swift weird sisters, whose pestilent breath
And reeking caldron affrighted Macbeth,
To this ‘water-witch’ were nought.
To the gazing Indian's thought:
The swift weird sisters, whose pestilent breath
And reeking caldron affrighted Macbeth,
To this ‘water-witch’ were nought.
Yet strangely her brood o'er the waters spread
With a bold prolific birth,
From the frigid north to the tropics red
Their furrowing feet of fire do tread
The thousand floods of earth.
With a bold prolific birth,
From the frigid north to the tropics red
Their furrowing feet of fire do tread
The thousand floods of earth.
But where is the mighty hand that taught
This wingless bird to fly?
Say, where is the breast whose inventive thought
This mine of wealth for the world hath wrought?
Land of his birth, reply.
This wingless bird to fly?
Say, where is the breast whose inventive thought
This mine of wealth for the world hath wrought?
Land of his birth, reply.
He hath fallen. The lofty tree is dead:
But it hath a living stem;
O'er its roots young saplings their verdure spread,
And the golden fruits which on us it shed,
We may render back to them.
But it hath a living stem;
O'er its roots young saplings their verdure spread,
And the golden fruits which on us it shed,
We may render back to them.
| [The first steamboat, in] The Atlantic souvenir for MDCCCXXXII | |