Poem on the Death of Mr. Job Hoisington…. by Elder A. Turner

POEM ON THE Death of Mr. Job Hoisington, Who fell in the Battle at Black Rock, on the 30th Dec., 1813 

By Elder A . TURNER 

hoisington
Historical plaque commemorating Job Hoisington in Buffalo, NY

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡1.

A Melancholy fate,
‡‡To you I will relate,
And give to you a short detail
‡‡Of a poor widow’s fate.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡2.

 Twas on the thirtieth day
‡‡Of December, the last,
Alarm was made, and cannons they
‡‡Did roar and play so fast.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡3

 Twas down at the Black Rock,
‡‡The battle first began;
The people they began to flock,
‡‡And to the country ran.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡4.

From Buffalo they flee,
‡‡And make a rapid flight;
Male and female we now do see,
‡‡Crying , a horrid sight.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡5.

 Twas escape for thy life,
‡‡No time to look behind;
The husband, children and the wife,
‡‡No more can either find.

Niagara by Benjamin Rosenbaum

rosenbaum
Niagara Falls Up Close
Photo by Constante Ken Lim on Unsplash

The knife of the sun at Niagara,
And the swallows,
Are beautiful;
But the voice and movement of the waters
Are gigantic—
A thousand naked men
Mad with the wine of beauty.


Source:  Poetry, vol. 23, no. 2 (Nov. 1923)

N.B.  This is not Benjamin Rosenbaum the science fiction writer (who was born in 1969)

Emily Helena Crummer Lodge by Anonymous

lodge
Emily Helena Crummer Lodge, 1828-1864.
Image courtesy of Michelle Ann Kratts

Her grave with spreading briar is grown,
And most the name o’er wends,
Upon the shattered fallen stone,
That tells of home and friends;

Are British hearts, so hard and cold,
And dead to Love’s bequest,
That Valor’s child forgotten sleeps,
In Stangers’ Rest?

O roll, Niagara’s mighty wave,
Sing to her in her dreams,
With tears of spray bedew her grave,
And sunlight flood with beams,

O birds at morn sing sweetly there,
Beside your happy rest,
And stars of night look kindly down,
In Strangers’ Rest.


Source:  Kratts, Michelle Ann. The Missed: Tales of Spirit & Tragic End at Niagara Falls.  2013.  Originally published in the Niagara Falls Gazette, August 1891.

The inscription states that Lodge “died many years ago at the Cataract House” hotel. Records indicate that she died in October 1864. For information about Lodge see chapter 2 of the Death Sketches section of The Missed by Michelle Ann Kratts

Lodge is buried in the Strangers’ Rest (also known as Travelers’ Rest) section of the Oakwood Cemetery in Niagara Falls, NY. See the grave record of Emily Helena Crummer Lodge

A Pic-Nic at the Falls by Melvin Byron Misener

The Crowland Safe Guard Union and Port Robinson Presbyterian Sabbath Schools held a union picnic at the Falls on Aug. 15, and the occasion has been immortalized by the Crowland poet, as followeth : —

misener
Wheelbarrow Race During Picnic in Queen Victoria Park, July 1927.
Photo by Edwin Hodge
Courtesy of the Niagara Parks Commission / Niagara Falls Public Library

Did you ever Pic-nic at the Falls
‡‡Upon a summer’s day ?
If not, I tell you, ’tis the place
‡‡To pass the time away.

Now first of all you name the day,
‡‡But then, if it should rain,
You fix upon another date,
‡‡And then perhaps again.

And next you must a chicken catch,
‡‡Be sure to take off its head,
Then fill it well with dressing
‡‡And roast it when it’s dead.

You fix a lot of other things
‡‡To fill the basket up ;
‘Tis well to take some dishes too,
‡‡A plate and spoon and cup.

The time comes round — you’re on the road,
‡‡Your best friend at your side,
And if you chose a pleasant day
‡‡You will enjoy the ride.

You can go by the Clifton hill,
‡‡Or down the old ravine,
No difference how you get there
‡‡Upon the park and green.

You meet your many neighbours there
‡‡Their friendship to renew,
Along perhaps with relatives
‡‡And strangers quite a few.

You’ll meet there Col. Gzowski
‡‡And he’ll not speak to you,
But gaze in blissful ignorance
‡‡Upon the sights to view.

And noon comes round, the tables spread
‡‡With pies and cakes and such
And some one at your elbow says,
‡‡“Take care, don’t eat too much.”

Now some drink water pure and bright,
‡‡But grannies have their tea,
For you can get hot water
‡‡Right at the park Q. V.

We sit along the bank awhile
‡‡And watch the Misty Maid ;
Some people will not ride on her
‡‡Because they are afraid.

The day is spent, we start for home ;
‡‡On two things we agree.
That we have had a pleasant time,
‡‡We’re tired as we can be.


Many thanks to Arden Phair for referring this poem to the Niagara Falls Poetry Project curator.

Source: Undated newspaper clipping (probably the Welland Tribune) found in The Diaries of Melvin Byron Misener, held at the Mayholme Foundation in St. Catharines.  The clipping has the date “1900” handwritten in the margin of the previous page. Misener (1847-1936) was known as “The Crowland Poet.”  Read more about Misener

 

Reminiscences by James McIntyre

On the laying of the corner stone of the Brock monument at Queenston Heights, and the final interment of the General who had fallen at the battle of Queenston, Oct. 13th, 1812. The remains of his Aide, Col. McDonald, [Lt.-Col. John Macdonell] were also deposited under the new tower.


mcintyre
First Brock’s Monument After the Explosion as it Appeared in 1842
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

A wail went o’er broad Canada,
When it was known a vile outlaw
Had at midnights awful hour,
With ruffian hand blown up the tower.

‘Neath which had slept the gallant Brock
Who bravely fell on Queenston’s rock,
But graceful column soon shall rise,
Its beauteous shaft will kiss the skies.

For from Queenston’s woody height
You may behold a pleasing sight,
The grim old veterans of the war,
Militiamen with many a scar.

Indian braves from each nation,
Grouped to pay their last ovation,
Round the remains of General Brock,
Who led them oft in battle’s shock.

Old heroes now again do rally,
Feebly they move along the valley,
Not as they rushed in days of yore
When torrent like they onward bore.

And swept away the foeman’s ranks
O’er Niagara’s rugged banks,
So indignant was their grief
On losing of their warrior chief.

Now, with triumphant funeral car,
Adorned with implements of war,
The sad procession slow ascends,
As round the hill its way it wends.

Marching to mournful, solemn note,
While grand old flags around it float,
And now may peace be never broken
‘Mong lands where Saxon tongue is spoken.

“For peace hath victories by far
More glorious than horrid war,”
England doth Longfellow revere,
And America loves Shakespeare.


Note by James McIntyre: The oration on the above interesting occasion was delivered by the late Hon. William H. Merritt, projector of the Welland Canal. He served at the battle when a young man. We witnessed the interesting ceremony and shall never forget it.


Source:  James McIntyre.  Poems of James McIntyre. Ingersoll, Ont.:  The Chronicle, 1889

See J.A. Murphy’s Ode to a Bytown Youth for the story of how the giant flag was affixed to the remains of the first Brock’s monument.