Niagara Falls from the Canadian Shore, ca.1900 Image courtesy of the Library of Congress
SEE the wave where it falls to the deep,
And the spray of the downpouring steep
Is outflung in a rain o’er the side !
We are filled with its splendor and pride,
We are mad with its pitiless power.
Ever-remembered, marvellous hour !
In view of the flooding waters yonder
Over our weakness must we ponder.
Endless, unwavering sweeps the tide,
Clouded with whiteness, over the side
Of the lofty wall that is ceaseless worn
By the mighty swells, and thus was torn
The seething course where the surges leap
With maddest bound to the lower deep
Between the great cliffs that, wide asunder,
Echo back the roar of their thunder.
With patient labor we strive at length
To find us aid in a tireless strength ;
We conquer oft through marvellous feat.
Yet must we feel in the full conceit
Of our haughty thought and boasting words
That the forces dread have feeble lords,
When long we gaze at the great world’s wonder,
Our hearts all athrob with its thunder !
Source: Robert S. Jenkins. Poems of the New Century, First Series: Minor Lyric and Narrative Poems. Toronto: William Briggs, 1903
Impressions and fancies on viewing for the first time, and from the American side, on Sept. 15th, 1906:
The famous cataract whose ancient birth
Dates from the glacial epoch of the earth,
I held in contemplation for the day,
With its environ that in prospect lay.
Through ages past, long ere the steps of man
Its shores betray’d, enquiring Fancy ran;
When the cyclopean mammoth left his spoor,
Without incurring peril of arm’d pursuer:
And from the scenes inductive Fancy drew
Events of time predestined to ensue;
Time will complete the gulch and Erie’s shore
Will curb an inland ocean’s wrath no more!
Long sunken wrecks will strew a new-made ground,
And human skulls with grinning teeth lay round!
In these events, man has no role to play;
His hand might haste, but not suspend a day.
Till water ceases in the mists to rise,
And loaded cloud restore it from the skies,
Will these events draw nearer day by day,
However distant in the future they.
But franchise holders, be ye not concern’d!
Ere these events, your names will be inurn’d;
Your marble tombs will have dissolved to earth,
And fame forgotten your ogygian birth.
Now present scenes arise in mental view
That are not entered on the day’s menu:
First comes professor of hydrodynamics
(Important branch of present-day mechanics)
And calculates the equine power needed
To tow it off to Uncle Sam—thus he did;
Then comes along a specialist on ‘quakes,
And tells how many San Francisco shakes
It represents per annum; then comes next
The company promoter and his text
Is syndicates and shares and dividends
Of one per cent, per hour for all his friends;
Last comes the man who dotes on olden things,
And grappling hooks and tarry tackle brings
To raise the Caroline—but Sam says “No!
Nurse not sad memories in a five-cent show;
Let our inglorious incidents of war
Pass to oblivion—not a cheap bazaar;
And curse the poet who in deathless song
These adverse memories would through time prolong.”
The virtuoso laid his tackle by,
And called up all to drink, and all were dry.
His calling now the gorge-route agent plies,
Exhorting travellers to patronize
The foresaid route—a twenty-minute spell
Hung by a hair above the gulf of Hell;
Where raven locks may justly fear a blight;
If danger imminent can blanch them white.
That no calamity has marr’d the past
Avails not those to whom it comes at last:
And come it will, such horror as the “Tay ”
Will be remembered from some fateful day.
But to the “Falls”—unable to compute
Such vast hydraulic power, I substitute
A simile poetic of its power,
To be repeated sixty times per hour:
A thousand tons of over-pending rock,
Detach’d by earthquake or electric shock,
From some high summit, towering mountain peak,
And downward plunging leaves its path a streak
Of smoke and debris as it cleaves its way
Through copes and thicket with terrific sway,
And sinks half buried in the plain below:
The foot-hills shudder when it strikes the blow.
This poem was intended to be grave throughout, but falling in with a group of humorous fancies, I was lured for a spell from the path that most becomes a man of seventy-three years. G. S.
Source: George Summerss. Bird of the Bush: A Collection of Poems. Toronto: The Hunter-Rose Company, 1908
The Outlet of the Niagara River with Lake Ontario in the Distance Painted by H. Adlard, print by W.H. Bartlett Courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library
THOU inland sister-sea, Ontario ! ‡‡To glide upon thy bosom is sublime ;
There note thy peaceful, steady, onward flow. ‡‡Ceaseless and constant as the course of time !
Thy waters seem the same, — yet ever new — ‡‡Fed by a thousand streams on either side ;
The same clear sky, the same thy depths of blue, ‡‡Free as the nations bord’ring on thy tide !
Vast upper-lakes feed thee with lib’ral hand, ‡‡From higher lands as new as thine hath been ;
Where still the Indian and his wigwam stand. ‡‡He half amaz’d with what his eyes hath seen !
To thy embrace — like gallant lover bold — ‡‡Niagara rushes in his mad career.
Till tir’d and spent, past whirling eddies cold, ‡‡He calmly sinks to rest when thou art near !
Last of the inland seas ! — yet nearest home — ‡‡Thy waters soon shall swell the mighty deep,
And mingle with the ocean’s briny foam, ‡‡There shalt thou rest — and there for ever sleep !
Source: John Imrie. Sacred Songs, Sonnets, and Miscellaneous Poems. Toronto: Imrie & Graham, 1886
Man Looking Over Niagara Falls From the Brink of the Boardwalk Photograph by George Barker, 1885 Courtesy of the Library of Congress
Oh, Niagara ! as at thy brink I stand, ‡‡My soul is filled with wonder and delight,
To trace in thee that wonder-working Hand, ‡‡Whose hollow holds the seas in balance light !
Worthy art thou to be a nation’s pride, — ‡‡A patriot’s boast — a world’s unceasing wonder ;
Like some bold monarch calling to thy side ‡‡Subjects from every clime in tones of thunder !
Deep on my soul thy grandeur is impress’d, ‡‡Thy awful majesty — thy mighty power ;
Thy ceaseless tumult and thy great unrest. ‡‡Like nations warring in dread conflict’s hour !
Rainbows of glory sparkle round thy shrine. ‡‡Cresting thy waters with effulgence bright ;
And in thy foaming currents intertwine ‡‡Rare corruscations of commingl’d light !
Like roar of battle, or like thunder’s call, ‡‡Thy deep-toned echoes roll with solemn sound ;
Like pillar’d clouds thy vapours rise, and fall ‡‡Like sparkling pearls upon the thirsty ground !
Rush on ! rush on ! in thy uncheck’d career, ‡‡With avalanchic power thy course pursue ;
While rending rocks quake as with mortal fear, ‡‡And stand in awe to let thy torrents through !
Naught but the hand of God could stay thy course, ‡‡Or drive thee back to Erie’s peaceful keep ;
Then onward press with thy gigantic force, ‡‡Till in Ontario’s bosom lull’d to sleep !
Emblem of Freedom ! who would dare essay ‡‡To bar thy noisy progress to the sea ?
Then onward press ! while bord’ring nations pray ‡‡For strength and wisdom to be great and free !
Source: John Imrie. Sacred Songs, Sonnets, and Miscellaneous Poems. Toronto: Imrie & Graham, 1886
Queenstown [i.e. Queenston], Upper Canada on the Niagara by Edward Walsh, c1805 Image courtesy of the Library of Congress
The sun had sunk beneath the western main, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And with a parting ray ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Bid adieu unto the day: ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡ Twilight drew nigh, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And purpled o’er the sky, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡While, smiling in the East, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The Queen of night arose, ‡‡‡‡Full orb’d;—in modest majesty ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Above the hills’ high head ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡She her silver lustre shed, ‡‡‡‡Mild as the evening taper’s blaze. ‡‡‡‡Sweet contemplative hour! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Now let me stray,
Unseen by the observing eye of day, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡For mediation dear, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Where the purling rill
Its music breaks upon the listening ear.
Thoughtful I wandered o’er a blooming mead; ‡‡‡‡Reclined beneath a spreading tree, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And cast my eyes around. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡ Full in my face ‡‡‡‡Fair Cynthia pour’d her silver beams, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And e’er I was aware ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The downy hand of sleep ‡‡‡‡Seal’d fast my eyes in pleasing slumbers; — ‡‡‡‡And something fell upon my soul ‡‡‡‡Which o’er my spirit seem’d to meet ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡ Sublimely soothing! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And mellow down my feelings, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡O’er which the tremulous chords
Of plaintive sensibility were strung. ‡‡‡‡Then rose the visions of the night,
And, undisturb’d, their free dominion kept ‡‡‡‡Within the province of any brain. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Methought the trump of war ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Was heard to sound no more; ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The soldier’s shining blade ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Was in his scabbard laid;
The cannon with reverberating roar,
Deep-sounding, shook the vaults of heaven no more;
No more it vomited destructive ire,
Or belch’d out death at each convulsive fire! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡ The bleeding warrior’s sighs ‡‡‡‡No more to Heaven did arise; ‡‡‡‡The widow’s tears had ceas’d to flow, ‡‡‡‡The orphan had forgot his woe,
And Peace, sweet goddess of celestial birth, ‡‡‡‡Reassumed her reign on earth. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Joy dwelt in every look; ‡‡‡‡Gladness sat on every face; ‡‡‡‡Thankful man the blessings took ‡‡‡‡As a reward for past distress. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡QUEENSTON appeared to rise ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡At once before my eyes, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And wave full fields of grain ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Luxuriant o’er the plain.
The battery strong, where, late the cannon’s mouth,
Just pointing thro’ stood threat’ning — charg’d with fate,
Ready to hurl destruction on the foe,
And rival thunder with its dreadful voice,
Disgorging death’s commission! — these same mounds ‡‡‡‡Where mouldering down to common earth, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And, crown’d with grassy tops,
They spread their vests of Nature’s carpet green ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Besprent with op’ning flowers, ‡‡‡‡And the soft notes of warbling birds ‡‡‡‡Succeeded to the roar of arms. ‡‡‡‡Methought a train of youths I saw, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Each with a garland crown’d, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And on each breast was bound ‡‡‡‡A golden plate, on which engrav’d
Britannia sat, reclining on her spear. ‡‡‡‡At her right hand appear’d an urn ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Of gold beset with pearls, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Transmuted from her tears, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡With the inscription on it:
“Here are inclos’d the ashes of my BROCK.” ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡With solemn silent step, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡In order they advanc’d ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Towards a new-raised pile: — ‡‡‡‡It was a marble monument, — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡A tribute to the chief, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Who fell upon the spot: —
‘Twas built in memory of our hero BROCK. — ‡‡‡‡And here these youths repair’d to pay ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The debt of gratitude ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Due from a generous mind, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Due from the virtuous brave,— ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Due to superior merit. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡A youth whose graceful mien ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Was pleasing to behold,
When they were gather’d round the monument, ‡‡‡‡In words like these began to speak : — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡“War was our country’s lot : — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The enemy advanc’d, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And with unhallowed step ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Defil’d our peaceful shores. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Our hero took the field, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And with him march’d a band ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Of generous hearted youths ‡‡‡‡Who, prompted by their country’s good, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The shock of war withstood. ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡BROCK led these heroes on; ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And, e’er they left the field,
The song of triumph flow’d from every tongue! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Brave youths! can we forget ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Your efforts generous while ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Our hearts shall beat? — Ah no! —
Cold be those hearts in death that can forget you, —
That can forget your patriotic deeds! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡“But ah! the fatal day ‡‡‡‡Which saw our country’s enemy ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Advance on Queenston Heights: — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‘Twas then the hand of death ‡‡‡‡Fixt on our hero’s mortal part, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡With his cold gathering grasp, ‡‡‡‡And snapt the brittle thread of life! ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡He rush’d to meet the foe — ‡‡‡‡His bosom caught the shaft of death — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡He fell — he soon expir’d! — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡The saddening news was heard, ‡‡‡‡“Since heaven hath given our country peace, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And still’d the storm of war, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And granted us the means ‡‡‡‡This pile of gratitude to rear; ‡‡‡‡Let us return our thanks to Heaven ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡For all these mercies given, ‡‡‡‡And then the tribute of a tear ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Pay to him whose dust lies buried here.
“Almighty God! supremely good and just,
To whom we look for help, in whom we trust,
Vouchsafe to hear the thanks our hearts would pay
To thine Eternal Majesty this day.
We own the power of thine extended hand,
Which drove invasion from our native land,
And bade contending powers from conflict cease,
And join their hands in mutual love and peace.
May peace continue, and concord abound,
Thou Sire of being! all the world around.” ‡‡‡‡He paus’d respectfully, — then broke ‡‡‡‡The solemn silence, and thus spoke: — ‡‡‡‡Each soldier’s bosom felt the stroke, ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And heaved in speechless woe! — ‡‡‡‡But gathering like a cloud the foe ‡‡‡‡Advanc’d and thicken’d on the field. ‡‡‡‡Ready for combat our brave band ‡‡‡‡Like lions rush’d amidst the fight, ‡‡‡‡Then ghastly death stalk’d hideous round ‡‡‡‡And fell’d his victims to the ground; ‡‡‡‡Amidst the rage of carnage stood ‡‡‡‡Grimly majestic, smear’d with blood! — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡But e’er the rolling sun ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Sunk down the steep of night, ‡‡‡‡The deaf’ning cannon ceas’d to roar, ‡‡‡‡The clank of arms was heard no more, ‡‡‡‡The joyful tidings flew around, — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‘The victory is ours!’ ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡“But sadness damp’d the joy in every breast; — ‡‡Sorrow sat heavy at each heart; — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡’‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Alas, our chief was slain! — ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡’‡‡‡‡‡‡‡No more the generous smile — ‡‡No more commanding dignity ‡‡Shone in his countenance, — cold death — ‡‡Cold, icy death sat silent there! — ‡‡Yet still his memory blooms afresh, ‡‡The fragrance of his virtues rises ‡‡In grateful odours to the soul ‡‡That knows to value worth and merit, ‡‡Which he in measure large possess’d.
“When duty call’d him to the helm of th’ state,
He found our country on the brink of fate.
A treas’nous faction burning to display
Rebellion’s ensigns, in her bosom lay:
Without, a numerous and insulting foe,
Threat’ning to strike th’exterminating blow.
He saw the danger — mark’d — pursu’d his plan,
And magic influence with his measures ran:
O’er discord’s strings his master hand he threw;
Faction was silent, and her friends withdrew:
The undetermined bosom he inspir’d;
The lukewarm heart with patriot ardour fir’d;
He taught us conquest in th’unequal strife,
And seal’d us victory with his valu’d life.
“His mind was noble, — all his actions great;
Fitly he held the guiding reins of state;
Compassion, pity, justice moved his soul,
Nor e’er he swerved from their divine control.”
Thus spoke the youth, and with a melting heart
Each stander by sustain’d an equal part;
Tears following tears the soul’d emotions spoke,
While sighs responsive from each bosom broke.
In weeping charms the virgin band appear’d,
Which struck my soul with softness as I heard:
Involuntary tears began to flow;
I join’d in concert in the scene of woe,
‘Till, quite absorb’d in the heart melting theme,
Sudden I woke, and found it all a dream: —
Yet such our Brock, and such the patriot band
Who fought and conquered under his command.
Adam Hood Burwell published poems under the pen name Erieus, the “Pioneer Poet of Upper Canada.” Read about Burwell
Source: MacDonald, Mary Lu. “New” Poems of Adam Hood Burwell. canadianpoetry.org/volumes/vol18/macdonald.html, 5/12/2020. Originally published in the Canadian Review and Literary and Historical Journal, No. III (March 1825)
