Niagara Falls 



1847 Ere yet they fall, mark (where that mighty current 



Comes like an army from its mountain home) 

 How fiercely yon steeds amid the torrent 



With their dark flanks, and manes and crests of foam, 



Speed to their doom, — yet, in the awful centre, 

 Where the wild waves rush madliest to the steep, 



Just ere that white, unfathomed gulf they enter, 

 Rear back in horror from the headlong leap, 



Then, maddening, plunge. A thousand more succeeding 

 Sweep onward, troop on troop, again to urge 



The same fierce fight, as rapid and unheeding, — 

 Again to pause in terror on the verge. 



Oft to an eye half closed, as if in solving 



Some mighty, mystic problem — half it seems 



Like some vast crystal wheel, ever revolving, 



Whose motion, earth's — whose axle, earth's extremes. 



We gaze and gaze, half lost in dreamy pleasure, 

 On all that slow majestic wave reveals, 



While Fancy idly, vainly strives to measure 

 How vast the cavern which its veil conceals. 



Whence come ye, O wild waters? By what scenes 

 Of majesty and Beauty have ye flowed, 



In the wide continent that intervenes, 

 Ere yet ye mingle in this common road? 



The Mountain King, upon his rocky throne, 



Laves his broad feet amid your rushing streams, 



And many a vale of loveliness unknown 

 Is softly mirrored in their crystal gleams. 



740 



