ON THE HUDSON.

BY ELIZABETH MARY ALLISON.

River that rollest thy bright course alongIn virgin beauty, yet unwooed by song,Unknown to glory; save to that which springsLike to a blushing maiden, from the fameOf her own loveliness. Shall thy nameBe fraught with bright romance, like that which flingsEnchantment o’er the Rhine, whose feudal towersLook down disdainful on the winged hours?The legionary forces of old Time,Battling with man e’en from his youthful prime,And the sublimest efforts of his hand,Shall genius give thee immortality?Her radiance flung o’er earth and sky,By magic touch of her unearthly wand;Far richer crowning of thy sunny tide,Than palaces of wealth, of power or pride.Flow on, then, bright and beauteous river, flowYet smile beneath the summer sunset’s glow,Or autumn’s mellow lustre, shed o’er allThe sombre grandeur of the foliage dense:Or solitary tree that doth dispenseO’er thee its willowy gracefulness of fall,While now thy highlands nearing the blue sky,Emblazoned with its orient tracery.Flow on—flow on in loveliness like this!Soft as the image of Arcadian bliss,When earth itself was young as thou art now,Ere in the east was mosque or high serai,But all was wild-wood, where the deer might stray,Or the gazelle bound from the mountain’s brow,Unharmed by man, who led his flocks along,Joying in freedom, and the free bird’s song.Nymph of thy source, and bearer of the urnFrom which these crystal waters winding turnInto their varying track of loveliness—Presiding spirit of the sparkling flood,Of heavenly aspect and serenest mood,Come at my bidding, with each shining tressWet with the spray of the full rushing streamThou lov’st to pour beneath the moonlit beamCome at my bidding, oh immortal maid!Come from thy grotto, ’neath the wavelets madeFar, far below, wrought of the treasures there,Mocking the eagerness of mortal eyeAs much as the far glories of the sky.Deign thee, oh nymph!—oh deign thee to draw near—The poet bending, thus invokes thee nowWith pure libations to thy virgin brow.She rose, the genius of the unsung stream,She rose in beauty like a flashing gleamOf sudden sunlight, o’er her glassy tide;Fair as the four young nymphs that, hand in hand,Gave their elastic footsteps to the sand,From Tagus’ golden depths,[17]so did she glideTo earth—so wring the moisture from her hair,Which so o’ershadowed her white bosom bare.The spot on which her pearly sandals stay’d,Was that green islet, that might well be madeShrine for her footsteps: but I may not tellOf half the loveliness that lent its aidTo that enchanting wilderness of shade,Of parted rock o’erhanging a sweet dell:Meet home for elfin sprites that nightly sing,And woo the stars to their enchanted ring.Swift to this place, the margin’s pride she passed,O’er it a look of joyousness she cast.Sunlight and song were floating on the air.The hamadryads’ mirth, with warblings blentOf joyous birds, and fainter thrill yet sentBy myriad tribes of insects whirling thereIn the fantastic and unending round,The bees’ glad hum and crickets’ shriller sound.The river wantoned o’er the pebbles white,And seemed to linger with a fond delightBy this loved scene, the fairest e’en of allThat decked its banks—and hailed the jocund flowOf its mellifluous waters, as they goMeandering in their course. But hark! There fallSounds of enchanting music on the breeze.A spirit’s voice is quivering through the trees.“Minstrel of a far glorious clime,” it said,“What hath thy wandering footstep hither led,To string the lyre these silent haunts among,Waking the elfin sprites that here reside,And calling on the genius of the tideTo hearken to the floatings of thy song,Borne to our crystal palace, whence we comeOnly when daylight ceases, and the hum“Of earthliness is still’d for many an hour.When dews descend to steep the purple flower,And the more purple arch of heaven is hungWith clustering stars, the coronal of night:Then, then we come to joy in that pure light,To lave the moonbeams o’er the waters flung,Dear to the spirits of the flood and fell,Dear to the genii of the woodland dell.“But thou hast dared to call me to the day,To list the warblings of thine earthly lay,Presumptuous bard; or is it to demandSome favor from us, which thou fear’st to speak,And only o’er thy harp-chords dar’st to break,The vain request that trembles on thy hand,In strains that by the aid of echo go,From rocks above to coral caves below?“But know, vain bard, the longings of thy breast,Stand to our immortality confessed.Thou sigh’st to know too much for one of earth:But as the music on the zephyrs flung,As the full cadence on thy lips that hung,Dies in the self-same span that saw its birth.As thy high hopes have ended in despair,Be too thy rashness tossed to empty air.“We pardon thee, for the aerial train,Have ever lov’d the poet’s thrilling strain;Whether it swells the breezes from afar,Whether ’tis blended with the moon-tide bright,In full accord of harmony and light,Or sighed to Hesperus the vesper star:Whether ’tis given to rock, or vale, or shore,Or sweetly vibrates our glad waters o’er.“But see the mountains, diademed with raysOf the departing sun’s transcendant blaze,Through all the west diffused. One halo thereOf orient lustre shrines his farewell beams,And o’er the pensive earth reflected gleams.Image of love that fain would linger whereHis presence has been owned with warm delight,And forcefully withdraws his parting sight,“And all himself transfuses in that lookAs bright as gentle. Mortal eye may brookThe radiance that before it could not scan.There too pale Dian timidly draws nigh,Lost in the richer glory of the sky.Hail thee, fair crescent, hail! No evil banFrom wicked fiend, or sprite, can mar the glow,That soon thy beauty all around shall throw.“Hail thee, fair orb! all hail! advance to lendThy more ethereal light. All spirits bendIn holiest worship to thee. Forth from glenAnd the sequestered wood, from cave and bower,Impatiently they wait the genial hourOf thy mild sovereignty. Advance thee then!Speed, speed the hours till midnight is begun,And till each star its central course has run.“Poet, we bear thee with us till the time,Spirits can know without the aid of chimeFrom village church, or proud cathedral spire:Such as in thy land equal Babel’s dome,In vain design to reach the Almighty’s home,Where mortals with religion may aspire,And godliness to go.” She ceas’d and gaveThe signal, that was heard below the wave.And now a chariot stood upon the edgeOf the bright river’s willow fringed sedge.’Twas formed of pearl and opal, whose clear dyesAre brilliant as the rainbow’s. Sapphire tooAnd silver lent their aid. Shells of each hueWere curiously inlaid, and met the eyesAs things unearthly there. Such was that carThat shot its rich effulgency afar.’Twas lined with down, soft as the swan’s white breast,And far more glorious tinted than the crestOf any bird that skims the earth or main.Once a white plant that ’neath the waters grew,Which the young nymphs that dwelt there, gathering knewTo weave into their vestments, and to stainWith tints pellucid, which they snatch from airOr from the tide, when sunbeams wanton there.Four flying dolphins to the car were reined,Whose eagerness could scarcely be restrained,So much they longed again to cleave the flood,And lave their golden scales, if but in sprayMade by the chariot o’er the moonlit way.They wait the spirit’s entrance, as they wouldWith that aerial burden lighter go.Spurning the azure depths that lie below.The poet and the spirit press’d the car,Which soon the sportive dolphins whirl’d afar;Those dolphins bred in the Ionian sea,And thence were sent an offering to the maid,Who the bright current of the Hudson sway’d.The silvery rein obeying, on they flee—They track the beauteous river’s winding course,That not an eddy stirr’d, e’en from its source.Still as a sheet of azure sheen it lay,Reflecting but the moon’s translucent rayThat broke through amber clouds, that veil’d her brow,Or only sought to veil, since brighter shoneHer presence canopied as by a throne:While the resplendent orbs prepare to throwTheir planetary lustre on the view,Bursting interminable ether through.Rapidly on the gleaming chariot went,A flash of inessential splendor sentAthwart the tide, and blended with the lightThe kindling stars flung forth, and yellow moonWhat to a poet could be such a boon,As thus to ride the waters as a sprite;With such a sky above and earth below,Thus o’er the glittering waters, thus to go?To see the beauty of that starry eve,To list the melody the spirits weaveAt that still hour: to watch the varying scene;Here towering rock frowning in grand array,Whence springs the eagle forth to welcome day;There valleys slanting to the margin green,With vistas form’d by the cleft rock’s tall peaks,Through which a flood of moonlight splendor breaks.Now the thick forests touch’d with autumn hues,And the wild flowers trembling with diamond dews,On the fair islets, which their car went byIn magic speed, along the tide that delv’dBetween its lofty banks, that then were shelv’dTo admit of all the glory of the sky;The distant mountains rearing their proud browsO’er all the view, that tremulously glows.Glows in the silvery light, that not aloneOn the wide ripples of the river shone,But on morass, and wood, and valley lay.Oh on the poet’s heart a rapture broke,That every inmost slumbering chord awoke.It seem’d as though his soul imbibed a rayOf that ethereal light, that all aroundThe gentle earth, with shining cycles bound.Or did the aerial spirit by his side,That gave him thus immortally to glideOver her moist dominions, on him pourMore than the spell unearthly things to view,But the glad gush of spiritual feelings too;For then the poet deem’d that one such hourOf brief enchanted happiness, were worthA thousand years of feelings but of earth.The spirit now lent him her aid to seeThings that, to us, must lie in mystery;Visions unborn of time, which future yearsShall make reality, and men shall knowStripp’d of the strangeness, that events will throwInto accordance. What, shall blood and tearsDeface these smiling sites; or shall men learnThe beacon-torch of virtue to discern?But that alone to guide them o’er the steepAnd shelving rocks, hid by the ocean deepOf life; away—the theme we may not tell.Suffice it that the poet’s heart was glad,And could it be, if what he heard were sad?And now they touch’d the land, and reach’d a dell—A wild, enchanted spot, where fairies stood,Watching their coming from the illumin’d flood.The sprites and fays their sportive glee began;From heart to heart the genial transport ran,Unmix’d with fear, or pain, or doubt, or dreadThat mar our earthly revelry. The songFrom fairy harps floated the air along,And on the breezes melting music shed;While odors that no censers seem’d to hold,A stream of luscious fragrance upward roll’d.And dance went round, a graceful flying mazeFrom tiny feet, that changing glancing raysGave out around; for o’er their persons shoneA light, that from the kindling stars is caught,When with their lustre most the skies is fraught,But all their brightest wassailage—oh, noneThat ever has beheld it, may reveal;Or gone for ever is his earthly weal,Waking the fairies’ ire. “Hark! hark, away!Each to his mission—now no longer stay.Go cleave the air, or skim the liquid main,Where its proud billows dash with frantic roar,Or break in idle bubbles on the shore,Go do your errands on. Then here againTo taste the luscious feast, and sip the bowl,And stay the winged moments ere they roll.”So spake the fairy queen, and stretched her wandThe magic sceptre sparkling in her hand.They wait no new command to disappear.And where that elfin band so lately stood,Falls but the shadow of the distant wood.No sound but of the river murmurs near,Where late ethereal melody was heard,And every leaf unearthly chorus stirred.

River that rollest thy bright course along

In virgin beauty, yet unwooed by song,

Unknown to glory; save to that which springs

Like to a blushing maiden, from the fame

Of her own loveliness. Shall thy name

Be fraught with bright romance, like that which flings

Enchantment o’er the Rhine, whose feudal towers

Look down disdainful on the winged hours?

The legionary forces of old Time,Battling with man e’en from his youthful prime,And the sublimest efforts of his hand,Shall genius give thee immortality?Her radiance flung o’er earth and sky,By magic touch of her unearthly wand;Far richer crowning of thy sunny tide,Than palaces of wealth, of power or pride.

The legionary forces of old Time,

Battling with man e’en from his youthful prime,

And the sublimest efforts of his hand,

Shall genius give thee immortality?

Her radiance flung o’er earth and sky,

By magic touch of her unearthly wand;

Far richer crowning of thy sunny tide,

Than palaces of wealth, of power or pride.

Flow on, then, bright and beauteous river, flowYet smile beneath the summer sunset’s glow,Or autumn’s mellow lustre, shed o’er allThe sombre grandeur of the foliage dense:Or solitary tree that doth dispenseO’er thee its willowy gracefulness of fall,While now thy highlands nearing the blue sky,Emblazoned with its orient tracery.

Flow on, then, bright and beauteous river, flow

Yet smile beneath the summer sunset’s glow,

Or autumn’s mellow lustre, shed o’er all

The sombre grandeur of the foliage dense:

Or solitary tree that doth dispense

O’er thee its willowy gracefulness of fall,

While now thy highlands nearing the blue sky,

Emblazoned with its orient tracery.

Flow on—flow on in loveliness like this!Soft as the image of Arcadian bliss,When earth itself was young as thou art now,Ere in the east was mosque or high serai,But all was wild-wood, where the deer might stray,Or the gazelle bound from the mountain’s brow,Unharmed by man, who led his flocks along,Joying in freedom, and the free bird’s song.

Flow on—flow on in loveliness like this!

Soft as the image of Arcadian bliss,

When earth itself was young as thou art now,

Ere in the east was mosque or high serai,

But all was wild-wood, where the deer might stray,

Or the gazelle bound from the mountain’s brow,

Unharmed by man, who led his flocks along,

Joying in freedom, and the free bird’s song.

Nymph of thy source, and bearer of the urnFrom which these crystal waters winding turnInto their varying track of loveliness—Presiding spirit of the sparkling flood,Of heavenly aspect and serenest mood,Come at my bidding, with each shining tressWet with the spray of the full rushing streamThou lov’st to pour beneath the moonlit beam

Nymph of thy source, and bearer of the urn

From which these crystal waters winding turn

Into their varying track of loveliness—

Presiding spirit of the sparkling flood,

Of heavenly aspect and serenest mood,

Come at my bidding, with each shining tress

Wet with the spray of the full rushing stream

Thou lov’st to pour beneath the moonlit beam

Come at my bidding, oh immortal maid!Come from thy grotto, ’neath the wavelets madeFar, far below, wrought of the treasures there,Mocking the eagerness of mortal eyeAs much as the far glories of the sky.Deign thee, oh nymph!—oh deign thee to draw near—The poet bending, thus invokes thee nowWith pure libations to thy virgin brow.

Come at my bidding, oh immortal maid!

Come from thy grotto, ’neath the wavelets made

Far, far below, wrought of the treasures there,

Mocking the eagerness of mortal eye

As much as the far glories of the sky.

Deign thee, oh nymph!—oh deign thee to draw near—

The poet bending, thus invokes thee now

With pure libations to thy virgin brow.

She rose, the genius of the unsung stream,She rose in beauty like a flashing gleamOf sudden sunlight, o’er her glassy tide;Fair as the four young nymphs that, hand in hand,Gave their elastic footsteps to the sand,From Tagus’ golden depths,[17]so did she glideTo earth—so wring the moisture from her hair,Which so o’ershadowed her white bosom bare.

She rose, the genius of the unsung stream,

She rose in beauty like a flashing gleam

Of sudden sunlight, o’er her glassy tide;

Fair as the four young nymphs that, hand in hand,

Gave their elastic footsteps to the sand,

From Tagus’ golden depths,[17]so did she glide

To earth—so wring the moisture from her hair,

Which so o’ershadowed her white bosom bare.

The spot on which her pearly sandals stay’d,Was that green islet, that might well be madeShrine for her footsteps: but I may not tellOf half the loveliness that lent its aidTo that enchanting wilderness of shade,Of parted rock o’erhanging a sweet dell:Meet home for elfin sprites that nightly sing,And woo the stars to their enchanted ring.

The spot on which her pearly sandals stay’d,

Was that green islet, that might well be made

Shrine for her footsteps: but I may not tell

Of half the loveliness that lent its aid

To that enchanting wilderness of shade,

Of parted rock o’erhanging a sweet dell:

Meet home for elfin sprites that nightly sing,

And woo the stars to their enchanted ring.

Swift to this place, the margin’s pride she passed,O’er it a look of joyousness she cast.Sunlight and song were floating on the air.The hamadryads’ mirth, with warblings blentOf joyous birds, and fainter thrill yet sentBy myriad tribes of insects whirling thereIn the fantastic and unending round,The bees’ glad hum and crickets’ shriller sound.

Swift to this place, the margin’s pride she passed,

O’er it a look of joyousness she cast.

Sunlight and song were floating on the air.

The hamadryads’ mirth, with warblings blent

Of joyous birds, and fainter thrill yet sent

By myriad tribes of insects whirling there

In the fantastic and unending round,

The bees’ glad hum and crickets’ shriller sound.

The river wantoned o’er the pebbles white,And seemed to linger with a fond delightBy this loved scene, the fairest e’en of allThat decked its banks—and hailed the jocund flowOf its mellifluous waters, as they goMeandering in their course. But hark! There fallSounds of enchanting music on the breeze.A spirit’s voice is quivering through the trees.

The river wantoned o’er the pebbles white,

And seemed to linger with a fond delight

By this loved scene, the fairest e’en of all

That decked its banks—and hailed the jocund flow

Of its mellifluous waters, as they go

Meandering in their course. But hark! There fall

Sounds of enchanting music on the breeze.

A spirit’s voice is quivering through the trees.

“Minstrel of a far glorious clime,” it said,“What hath thy wandering footstep hither led,To string the lyre these silent haunts among,Waking the elfin sprites that here reside,And calling on the genius of the tideTo hearken to the floatings of thy song,Borne to our crystal palace, whence we comeOnly when daylight ceases, and the hum

“Minstrel of a far glorious clime,” it said,

“What hath thy wandering footstep hither led,

To string the lyre these silent haunts among,

Waking the elfin sprites that here reside,

And calling on the genius of the tide

To hearken to the floatings of thy song,

Borne to our crystal palace, whence we come

Only when daylight ceases, and the hum

“Of earthliness is still’d for many an hour.When dews descend to steep the purple flower,And the more purple arch of heaven is hungWith clustering stars, the coronal of night:Then, then we come to joy in that pure light,To lave the moonbeams o’er the waters flung,Dear to the spirits of the flood and fell,Dear to the genii of the woodland dell.

“Of earthliness is still’d for many an hour.

When dews descend to steep the purple flower,

And the more purple arch of heaven is hung

With clustering stars, the coronal of night:

Then, then we come to joy in that pure light,

To lave the moonbeams o’er the waters flung,

Dear to the spirits of the flood and fell,

Dear to the genii of the woodland dell.

“But thou hast dared to call me to the day,To list the warblings of thine earthly lay,Presumptuous bard; or is it to demandSome favor from us, which thou fear’st to speak,And only o’er thy harp-chords dar’st to break,The vain request that trembles on thy hand,In strains that by the aid of echo go,From rocks above to coral caves below?

“But thou hast dared to call me to the day,

To list the warblings of thine earthly lay,

Presumptuous bard; or is it to demand

Some favor from us, which thou fear’st to speak,

And only o’er thy harp-chords dar’st to break,

The vain request that trembles on thy hand,

In strains that by the aid of echo go,

From rocks above to coral caves below?

“But know, vain bard, the longings of thy breast,Stand to our immortality confessed.Thou sigh’st to know too much for one of earth:But as the music on the zephyrs flung,As the full cadence on thy lips that hung,Dies in the self-same span that saw its birth.As thy high hopes have ended in despair,Be too thy rashness tossed to empty air.

“But know, vain bard, the longings of thy breast,

Stand to our immortality confessed.

Thou sigh’st to know too much for one of earth:

But as the music on the zephyrs flung,

As the full cadence on thy lips that hung,

Dies in the self-same span that saw its birth.

As thy high hopes have ended in despair,

Be too thy rashness tossed to empty air.

“We pardon thee, for the aerial train,Have ever lov’d the poet’s thrilling strain;Whether it swells the breezes from afar,Whether ’tis blended with the moon-tide bright,In full accord of harmony and light,Or sighed to Hesperus the vesper star:Whether ’tis given to rock, or vale, or shore,Or sweetly vibrates our glad waters o’er.

“We pardon thee, for the aerial train,

Have ever lov’d the poet’s thrilling strain;

Whether it swells the breezes from afar,

Whether ’tis blended with the moon-tide bright,

In full accord of harmony and light,

Or sighed to Hesperus the vesper star:

Whether ’tis given to rock, or vale, or shore,

Or sweetly vibrates our glad waters o’er.

“But see the mountains, diademed with raysOf the departing sun’s transcendant blaze,Through all the west diffused. One halo thereOf orient lustre shrines his farewell beams,And o’er the pensive earth reflected gleams.Image of love that fain would linger whereHis presence has been owned with warm delight,And forcefully withdraws his parting sight,

“But see the mountains, diademed with rays

Of the departing sun’s transcendant blaze,

Through all the west diffused. One halo there

Of orient lustre shrines his farewell beams,

And o’er the pensive earth reflected gleams.

Image of love that fain would linger where

His presence has been owned with warm delight,

And forcefully withdraws his parting sight,

“And all himself transfuses in that lookAs bright as gentle. Mortal eye may brookThe radiance that before it could not scan.There too pale Dian timidly draws nigh,Lost in the richer glory of the sky.Hail thee, fair crescent, hail! No evil banFrom wicked fiend, or sprite, can mar the glow,That soon thy beauty all around shall throw.

“And all himself transfuses in that look

As bright as gentle. Mortal eye may brook

The radiance that before it could not scan.

There too pale Dian timidly draws nigh,

Lost in the richer glory of the sky.

Hail thee, fair crescent, hail! No evil ban

From wicked fiend, or sprite, can mar the glow,

That soon thy beauty all around shall throw.

“Hail thee, fair orb! all hail! advance to lendThy more ethereal light. All spirits bendIn holiest worship to thee. Forth from glenAnd the sequestered wood, from cave and bower,Impatiently they wait the genial hourOf thy mild sovereignty. Advance thee then!Speed, speed the hours till midnight is begun,And till each star its central course has run.

“Hail thee, fair orb! all hail! advance to lend

Thy more ethereal light. All spirits bend

In holiest worship to thee. Forth from glen

And the sequestered wood, from cave and bower,

Impatiently they wait the genial hour

Of thy mild sovereignty. Advance thee then!

Speed, speed the hours till midnight is begun,

And till each star its central course has run.

“Poet, we bear thee with us till the time,Spirits can know without the aid of chimeFrom village church, or proud cathedral spire:Such as in thy land equal Babel’s dome,In vain design to reach the Almighty’s home,Where mortals with religion may aspire,And godliness to go.” She ceas’d and gaveThe signal, that was heard below the wave.

“Poet, we bear thee with us till the time,

Spirits can know without the aid of chime

From village church, or proud cathedral spire:

Such as in thy land equal Babel’s dome,

In vain design to reach the Almighty’s home,

Where mortals with religion may aspire,

And godliness to go.” She ceas’d and gave

The signal, that was heard below the wave.

And now a chariot stood upon the edgeOf the bright river’s willow fringed sedge.’Twas formed of pearl and opal, whose clear dyesAre brilliant as the rainbow’s. Sapphire tooAnd silver lent their aid. Shells of each hueWere curiously inlaid, and met the eyesAs things unearthly there. Such was that carThat shot its rich effulgency afar.

And now a chariot stood upon the edge

Of the bright river’s willow fringed sedge.

’Twas formed of pearl and opal, whose clear dyes

Are brilliant as the rainbow’s. Sapphire too

And silver lent their aid. Shells of each hue

Were curiously inlaid, and met the eyes

As things unearthly there. Such was that car

That shot its rich effulgency afar.

’Twas lined with down, soft as the swan’s white breast,And far more glorious tinted than the crestOf any bird that skims the earth or main.Once a white plant that ’neath the waters grew,Which the young nymphs that dwelt there, gathering knewTo weave into their vestments, and to stainWith tints pellucid, which they snatch from airOr from the tide, when sunbeams wanton there.

’Twas lined with down, soft as the swan’s white breast,

And far more glorious tinted than the crest

Of any bird that skims the earth or main.

Once a white plant that ’neath the waters grew,

Which the young nymphs that dwelt there, gathering knew

To weave into their vestments, and to stain

With tints pellucid, which they snatch from air

Or from the tide, when sunbeams wanton there.

Four flying dolphins to the car were reined,Whose eagerness could scarcely be restrained,So much they longed again to cleave the flood,And lave their golden scales, if but in sprayMade by the chariot o’er the moonlit way.They wait the spirit’s entrance, as they wouldWith that aerial burden lighter go.Spurning the azure depths that lie below.

Four flying dolphins to the car were reined,

Whose eagerness could scarcely be restrained,

So much they longed again to cleave the flood,

And lave their golden scales, if but in spray

Made by the chariot o’er the moonlit way.

They wait the spirit’s entrance, as they would

With that aerial burden lighter go.

Spurning the azure depths that lie below.

The poet and the spirit press’d the car,Which soon the sportive dolphins whirl’d afar;Those dolphins bred in the Ionian sea,And thence were sent an offering to the maid,Who the bright current of the Hudson sway’d.The silvery rein obeying, on they flee—They track the beauteous river’s winding course,That not an eddy stirr’d, e’en from its source.

The poet and the spirit press’d the car,

Which soon the sportive dolphins whirl’d afar;

Those dolphins bred in the Ionian sea,

And thence were sent an offering to the maid,

Who the bright current of the Hudson sway’d.

The silvery rein obeying, on they flee—

They track the beauteous river’s winding course,

That not an eddy stirr’d, e’en from its source.

Still as a sheet of azure sheen it lay,Reflecting but the moon’s translucent rayThat broke through amber clouds, that veil’d her brow,Or only sought to veil, since brighter shoneHer presence canopied as by a throne:While the resplendent orbs prepare to throwTheir planetary lustre on the view,Bursting interminable ether through.

Still as a sheet of azure sheen it lay,

Reflecting but the moon’s translucent ray

That broke through amber clouds, that veil’d her brow,

Or only sought to veil, since brighter shone

Her presence canopied as by a throne:

While the resplendent orbs prepare to throw

Their planetary lustre on the view,

Bursting interminable ether through.

Rapidly on the gleaming chariot went,A flash of inessential splendor sentAthwart the tide, and blended with the lightThe kindling stars flung forth, and yellow moonWhat to a poet could be such a boon,As thus to ride the waters as a sprite;With such a sky above and earth below,Thus o’er the glittering waters, thus to go?

Rapidly on the gleaming chariot went,

A flash of inessential splendor sent

Athwart the tide, and blended with the light

The kindling stars flung forth, and yellow moon

What to a poet could be such a boon,

As thus to ride the waters as a sprite;

With such a sky above and earth below,

Thus o’er the glittering waters, thus to go?

To see the beauty of that starry eve,To list the melody the spirits weaveAt that still hour: to watch the varying scene;Here towering rock frowning in grand array,Whence springs the eagle forth to welcome day;There valleys slanting to the margin green,With vistas form’d by the cleft rock’s tall peaks,Through which a flood of moonlight splendor breaks.

To see the beauty of that starry eve,

To list the melody the spirits weave

At that still hour: to watch the varying scene;

Here towering rock frowning in grand array,

Whence springs the eagle forth to welcome day;

There valleys slanting to the margin green,

With vistas form’d by the cleft rock’s tall peaks,

Through which a flood of moonlight splendor breaks.

Now the thick forests touch’d with autumn hues,And the wild flowers trembling with diamond dews,On the fair islets, which their car went byIn magic speed, along the tide that delv’dBetween its lofty banks, that then were shelv’dTo admit of all the glory of the sky;The distant mountains rearing their proud browsO’er all the view, that tremulously glows.

Now the thick forests touch’d with autumn hues,

And the wild flowers trembling with diamond dews,

On the fair islets, which their car went by

In magic speed, along the tide that delv’d

Between its lofty banks, that then were shelv’d

To admit of all the glory of the sky;

The distant mountains rearing their proud brows

O’er all the view, that tremulously glows.

Glows in the silvery light, that not aloneOn the wide ripples of the river shone,But on morass, and wood, and valley lay.Oh on the poet’s heart a rapture broke,That every inmost slumbering chord awoke.It seem’d as though his soul imbibed a rayOf that ethereal light, that all aroundThe gentle earth, with shining cycles bound.

Glows in the silvery light, that not alone

On the wide ripples of the river shone,

But on morass, and wood, and valley lay.

Oh on the poet’s heart a rapture broke,

That every inmost slumbering chord awoke.

It seem’d as though his soul imbibed a ray

Of that ethereal light, that all around

The gentle earth, with shining cycles bound.

Or did the aerial spirit by his side,That gave him thus immortally to glideOver her moist dominions, on him pourMore than the spell unearthly things to view,But the glad gush of spiritual feelings too;For then the poet deem’d that one such hourOf brief enchanted happiness, were worthA thousand years of feelings but of earth.

Or did the aerial spirit by his side,

That gave him thus immortally to glide

Over her moist dominions, on him pour

More than the spell unearthly things to view,

But the glad gush of spiritual feelings too;

For then the poet deem’d that one such hour

Of brief enchanted happiness, were worth

A thousand years of feelings but of earth.

The spirit now lent him her aid to seeThings that, to us, must lie in mystery;Visions unborn of time, which future yearsShall make reality, and men shall knowStripp’d of the strangeness, that events will throwInto accordance. What, shall blood and tearsDeface these smiling sites; or shall men learnThe beacon-torch of virtue to discern?

The spirit now lent him her aid to see

Things that, to us, must lie in mystery;

Visions unborn of time, which future years

Shall make reality, and men shall know

Stripp’d of the strangeness, that events will throw

Into accordance. What, shall blood and tears

Deface these smiling sites; or shall men learn

The beacon-torch of virtue to discern?

But that alone to guide them o’er the steepAnd shelving rocks, hid by the ocean deepOf life; away—the theme we may not tell.Suffice it that the poet’s heart was glad,And could it be, if what he heard were sad?And now they touch’d the land, and reach’d a dell—A wild, enchanted spot, where fairies stood,Watching their coming from the illumin’d flood.

But that alone to guide them o’er the steep

And shelving rocks, hid by the ocean deep

Of life; away—the theme we may not tell.

Suffice it that the poet’s heart was glad,

And could it be, if what he heard were sad?

And now they touch’d the land, and reach’d a dell—

A wild, enchanted spot, where fairies stood,

Watching their coming from the illumin’d flood.

The sprites and fays their sportive glee began;From heart to heart the genial transport ran,Unmix’d with fear, or pain, or doubt, or dreadThat mar our earthly revelry. The songFrom fairy harps floated the air along,And on the breezes melting music shed;While odors that no censers seem’d to hold,A stream of luscious fragrance upward roll’d.

The sprites and fays their sportive glee began;

From heart to heart the genial transport ran,

Unmix’d with fear, or pain, or doubt, or dread

That mar our earthly revelry. The song

From fairy harps floated the air along,

And on the breezes melting music shed;

While odors that no censers seem’d to hold,

A stream of luscious fragrance upward roll’d.

And dance went round, a graceful flying mazeFrom tiny feet, that changing glancing raysGave out around; for o’er their persons shoneA light, that from the kindling stars is caught,When with their lustre most the skies is fraught,But all their brightest wassailage—oh, noneThat ever has beheld it, may reveal;Or gone for ever is his earthly weal,

And dance went round, a graceful flying maze

From tiny feet, that changing glancing rays

Gave out around; for o’er their persons shone

A light, that from the kindling stars is caught,

When with their lustre most the skies is fraught,

But all their brightest wassailage—oh, none

That ever has beheld it, may reveal;

Or gone for ever is his earthly weal,

Waking the fairies’ ire. “Hark! hark, away!Each to his mission—now no longer stay.Go cleave the air, or skim the liquid main,Where its proud billows dash with frantic roar,Or break in idle bubbles on the shore,Go do your errands on. Then here againTo taste the luscious feast, and sip the bowl,And stay the winged moments ere they roll.”

Waking the fairies’ ire. “Hark! hark, away!

Each to his mission—now no longer stay.

Go cleave the air, or skim the liquid main,

Where its proud billows dash with frantic roar,

Or break in idle bubbles on the shore,

Go do your errands on. Then here again

To taste the luscious feast, and sip the bowl,

And stay the winged moments ere they roll.”

So spake the fairy queen, and stretched her wandThe magic sceptre sparkling in her hand.They wait no new command to disappear.And where that elfin band so lately stood,Falls but the shadow of the distant wood.No sound but of the river murmurs near,Where late ethereal melody was heard,And every leaf unearthly chorus stirred.

So spake the fairy queen, and stretched her wand

The magic sceptre sparkling in her hand.

They wait no new command to disappear.

And where that elfin band so lately stood,

Falls but the shadow of the distant wood.

No sound but of the river murmurs near,

Where late ethereal melody was heard,

And every leaf unearthly chorus stirred.

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