Music — Poetry — Fiction 



Think not, think not, Earth's triflers! that for you 1840 



And garish Day, these melodies chime on. 



When ye, diminished, lost, are known not, Night, 



Night to the awful anthem ever hearkens, 



And ever with new joy. Oh, how sublime 



The symphony, that, under the expanse 



Of stars, peals on in unexhausted power: 



Niagara! — and the sole listener, Night! 



1841 



Alida; or, Miscellaneous sketches of incidents during the late American 1841 

 war founded on fact. With poems. By an unknown author. 3d ed. 

 rev. & imp. N. Y.: Printed for the author. 1841. Pp. 183-191. 



GuRNEY, JOSEPH John. A journey in North America, described 1841 

 in familiar letters to Amelia Opie. Norwich: Printed for private cir- Gumey 

 culation. 1841. P. 320. 



Six hundred twenty thousand tuns, each minute, is the 



measure, 

 That fills thy giant bowl for us with wonder, awe, and pleasure ; 

 Niagara the great, the free, old Erie's swift discharger, 

 The billowy breast that banished thee, but sends thee to a larger. 

 Ontario bids a welcome to thy foaming, gushing waters, 

 That freshly fill her yawning caves, and nourish all her daughters. 

 Sunshine and rain contend for thee, thou plaything of all 



weathers, 

 Thy falling flood of glass and pearls breaks into fairest feathers ; 

 But where the deeper billows roll o'er the centre of thy crescent, 

 Thy vest is of liquid emerald, with native snows florescent. 

 Thy stream below is a floating field of winter's purest whiteness, 

 Till it melts away into green and grey, rejoicing in its brightness. 

 Clouds of thy own creation rise, in wild array, around thee, 

 And in her zone of magic hues, the radiant bow hath bound thee. 

 Farewell, flow on — in bygone worlds thy veteran locks were 



hoary, 

 And forests wild, untrod by man, have sung thine ancient glory. 



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