When brave Van Rensselaer cross'd the stream, Just at the break of day Distressing thoughts, a restless dream, Disturb'd me where I lay. But all the terrors of the night Did quickly flee away: My opening eyes beheld the light, And hail'd the new-born day. Soon did the murdering cannon's roar Put blood in all my veins; Columbia's sons have trod the shore Where the proud Britain reigns. To expose their breast to cannon's ball, Their country's rights to save, O what a grief to see them fall! True heroes, bold and brave! The musket's flash, the cannon's glow, Thunder'd and lighten'd round, Struck dread on all the tawny foe, And swept them to the ground. I thought what numbers must be slain, What weeping widows left! And aged parents full of pain, Of every joy bereft. The naked savage yelling round Our heroes where they stood, And every weapon to be found Was bathed in human blood. But bold Van Rensselaer, full of wounds, Was quickly carried back; Brave Colonel Bloom did next command The bloody fierce attack. Where Brock, the proud insulter, rides In pomp and splendor great; Our valiant heroes he derides, And dared the power of fate. Continue reading "The Battle of Queenstown (October 13, 1812) by William Banker, Jr."
I. Who has not had a wish t'inspect Niagara's famed cataract ? And all the wonders to explore From Erie to Ontario's shore ? The battles, lately fought between ; Give lively interest to the scene ; And lead the curious stranger round, To scrutinize each battle ground. But sentiments more noble far, Than thoughts of that unnatural war, The scenery around inspires, And every feeling bosom fires. II. The Boat had stemm'd Ontario's tide, And anchor'd on the southern side ; A noble river with its waves, Two rival nations' confines laves ; That Giant stream, which through the lakes Of Canada, its circuit makes, And issuing from Ontario About two hundred miles below, (After so long a pilgrimage, Less holy name were sacrilege) Assumes St. Lawrence, name of awe But here 'tis called Niagara. III. Upon this river's eastern side, A Fortress stands in warlike pride ; Ontario's surges lash its base, And gradually its walls deface ; And, from its topmost tower display'd, A flag, with stripes and stars portray'd ; Upon the west an ancient mound, The Union Jack and - British ground : Nor distant far another stands, Which the whole river's mouth commands. Between the two lay Newark village, Which yet they let its neighbours pillage ; Nor only so, but burn it down ; And from its ashes now has grown, Another, but more lovely far, Since the conclusion of the war Which they have nam'd Niagara. Continue reading "Wonders of the West; or, A Day at the Falls of Niagara in 1825: a poem by a Canadian by James Lynne Alexander"