Niagara by James Staunton Babcock

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James Staunton Babcock, 1815-1847

Great matchless Flood ! thy thousand lakes and rivers
‡‡Here met, plunge down these awful mountain steeps ;
How ’neath their Titan tramp the firm earth quivers,
‡‡And back with all her cliffs, astonished leaps !
‡‡Through heaven’s dark halls the thunder wakes and sleeps,
The storm roused ocean raves, and rests his hour ;
‡‡But no repose comes to thy troubled deeps,
Thou sleepless sentinel shouting from thy tower,
To earth and sky the voice of thy stupendous power.

Cities are gathering round thee, human hands
‡‡Thy savage beauty tame, to mold their own ;
Yet firm thy rock seat, sure thy kingdom stands,
‡‡Thou reignest here chief monarch and alone.
‡‡Now yon fair hills the sun crowns like a throne,
Now sinks behind them in his shadowy fall,
‡‡And round his rest the tents of eve are strown,
And night comes listening to thy sovereign call,
As erst through old dim years, from solemn forests tall.

I start from dreams, and hear the tempest roaring,
‡‡Shudders each roof-beam, harsh the window jars ;
I rise, gaze out, — and the fair sky is pouring
‡‡The gentle light of all its glorious stars !
‡‡Sweet shine the orb of love and red haired Mars ;
No wind ! and up yon vast white tumbling sheet,
‡‡Hangs her faint bow the Moon unstained with bars,
And sees her trembling form beneath thy feet,
Seeming to list the tale thy waters aye repeat.

Wild dusky nations on thy shores have wandered,
‡‡And loved, and fought, — pale armies joined in fray ;
And all have passed — and myriads come and pondered,
‡‡Who now are gone, or soon must go, as they !
‡‡Still roar and foam thy broad waves green and gray,
Still round thy misty brow the rainbows span,
‡‡No power shall hush thy voice, thy waters stay,
Telling thy strength how mightier far than man,
Till thy small task is wrought in God’s unbounded plan.


Source:  James Staunton Babcock.  Visions and Voices.  Hartford: Edwin Hunt, 1849

A Night on the Niagara by E. Curtiss Hine

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Niagara Falls by Moonlight by George Barker

‘T WAS evening, and Niagara’s tide
‡‡Like giant serpent crawling,
Its varnished skin, in moonbeams dyed,
‡‡With hissing voice was calling,
Upon the cataract below,
‡‡Which hoarsely was replying.
E’en thus when fiery rivers flow
Along the sky, and with their glow,
The black couch of the thunderer show,
‡‡We hear his stern voice crying.

It was a night of loveliness,
‡‡A white cloud had been veiling
The moon, but now, with silvery dress
‡‡Athwart the sky was sailing ; —
The bright eyed sentinels that stand,
‡‡Upon the walls of Heaven,
In glittering robes, a radiant band,
With myriad wings the forest fanned,
Whose branches whispered of a land,
‡‡Where endless joys are given

It was a night of loveliness,
‡‡A shallop, old reclining
Beside the shore, seemed in distress,
‡‡Neglected and repining ;
Upon her thwart I set me down,
‡‡And watched the gliding water,
That sparkled like a Monarch’s crown,
And clustered trees, whose shadows brown,
Lay on the landscape, like a frown
‡‡On cheek of beauty’s daughter.

Before me soon, a vision rose,
‡‡An Eden landscape glowing,
Like that which some magician shows,
‡‡All red with roses blowing ;
Where flashing like a sunbeam swift,
‡‡Bright rainbow-tinted wings did quiver,
But soon the fairy-land did drift
Like cloud away, the scene did shift,
I woke, and found myself adrift
‡‡Upon the rushing river !

Oarless, adown the current went
‡‡That boat and I together,
As from their boughs red leaves are rent,
‡‡In Autumn’s stormy weather !
Now in some whirling eddy borne,
‡‡Now bending tree-tops under,
And all the time from silver throne,
As if in mockery, on me shone
The Queen of Night — and solemn — lone,
‡‡Arose the cataract’s thunder !

Down, down we flew ! — no help was near,
‡‡Dark clouds came o’er the water,
As the black wings of Death appear
‡‡O’er crimsoned field of slaughter !
I thought upon my early doom,
‡‡Of hopes once brightly glowing
The golden skies now hid in gloom,
And still the cataract’s solemn boom,
Came like a message from the tomb —
‡‡” To Spirit-Land thou’rt going ! ”

O how the scenes of early days,
‡‡With Memory’s wings, came round me !
It seemed as if some gentle Fays
‡‡In dreamy spell had bound me.
Fond ones were by my side once more,
‡‡Their eyes with kindness beaming,
And ‘ mong them her who ever wore
For me a smile.   The cataract’s roar,
Grew louder — but on island shore
‡‡I saw a beacon streaming.

My boat drew near that rocky isle,
‡‡Which for a moment caught her ;
That rugged island still doth smile
‡‡Amid the boiling water ;
For, on its crags, with nimble feet,
‡‡Like frighten’d deer I darted,
While downward, on its course so fleet,
As porpoises at sea retreat
Toward the storm — so Death to greet,
‡‡That boat flew as we parted.


Source:  E. Curtiss Hine.  The Haunted Barque, and Other Poems. Auburn, NY: J.C. Derby & Co., 1848

In the preface Hine wrote: “Most of the following Poems were composed at sea, while the Author was attached to an American Frigate cruising in the Pacific Ocean, to while away the tedious hours — the monotony and ennui of a life on board a ship of war.”

About photographer George Barker

Niagara Falls by Thomas Frederick Young

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Horseshoe Fall, Niagara, Seen From Below on the Canadian Side by an unknown artist. Colour tint by Erna Jahnke. Courtesy of the Niagara Falls Public Library

Niagara, thou mighty flood,
I’ve seen thee fall, I’ve heard thee roar,
And on the frightful verges stood,
That overhang thy rocky shore.

I’ve sailed o’er surging waves below,
And view’d the rainbow’s colour’d light,
And felt the spray, thy waters throw,
When leaping, with resistless might.

I’ve seen the rapids in their course,
Like madden’d, living things rush on,
With wild, unhesitating force,
To where thy mighty chasms yawn.

And there to take the awful leap,
And fall, with hoarse and sullen roar,
Into th’ unfathomable deep,
Which rolleth on, from shore to shore.

Niagara, thou’rt mighty, grand,
Thou fill’st human souls with awe,
For thee, and for that mighty Hand,
Which maketh thee, by nature’s law.

Thou’rt great, thou mighty, foaming mass
Of water, plunging, roaring down,
But so are we, yea, we surpass
Thee, and we wear a nobler crown.

Thy mighty head is crowned with foam,
And rainbows wreathe thy robes of blue ;
Our earthly forms — our present home —
Are insignificant to you.

But look, thou mighty thund’rer, thou,
Tho’ puny be our forms to thine,
These forms possess, yea, even now,
A spark, a ray of life divine.

Rush on, O waters ! proudly hurl
Thyself to roaring depths below,
And let the mists of ages curl,
And generations come and go.

But know, stupendous wonder, know,
Thy rocks would crumble, at the nod
Of Him, who lets thy waters flow ;
Thy Maker, but our Friend and God.

Thy rocks shall crumble, fall they must ;
Thy waters, then, shall plunge no more,
But we shall rise, e’en from the dust,
To live upon another shore.


Source: T.F. Young.  Canada, and Other PoemsToronto: Hunter, Rose & Co., Printers, 1887

Niagara: A Poem by Rev. C.H.A. Bulkley

Bulkley ‘s poem is 132 pages long, followed by copious notes about religious references and history and descriptions of the events described in the poem. The full text of the poem can be found on the Hathi Trust site:

 

From Charles Mason Dow’s Anthology and Bibliography of Niagara Falls (p. 742-743):

The author tells us that these 3,600 lines are an attempt to answer the demand for a ” poem of more than ordinary length, truly American in its character ” on Niagara Falls. He says that his ” object has been not so much to describe at length the scenery of Niagara, in order to excite emotions in the reader similar to those of the beholder, for this would be vain endeavor, as to give a transcript of what passes through the mind of one who is supposed to witness so grand an achievement of nature.” The poem is tedious, with commonplace intervals, although it occasionally rises to the heights of true poetry. The analysis which follows gives an idea of the ambition and scope of the undertaking.


Analysis

Introductory apostrophe — themes proposed. Apostrophe to the Fall as a vast form of life. The presence-chamber of God. A knight-errant. Restless spirits. The streams — their lament — its uselessness. The Torrent like Time. A mourner over men and nations. The Indian — his chase — his death-song — his fall. Apostrophe to the Cataract as a Destroyer — an Historian — a warning Prophet — an oracle of Truth — a Chronicler undying — a tireless Laborer — and unswayed by man. The islands — refuge-spots — so are some hearts. Winter — the Fall ice-imprisoned. Spring — with a song of Liberty. Apostrophe to Niagara River — passage down its banks. The Cliffs — Death of Hungerford. The Cave of the Winds. The Pinnacle-Rock. The Whirlpool. Apostrophe to the Fall respecting its origin and early life. The Fall’s Invocation to the Creative Spirit for the Seasons. Evening and Night. The Hermit of the Fall — his birth-place and character — his strain — his melancholy and aspirations — his strife, disappointment, doom, fearful deed, remorse, and death. The Fall a witness of Redemption. Sunrise — typical of Genius. Hymn of Praise. Noon. The Flood’s Invocation. Poet. Musician. The Table- Rock. Beneath the Sheet. The Cataract’s hymn to the Creator. Proof of Deity. The Doom of Time, with the Flood’s death-dirge and fall. The Farewell to the Cataract.


A selection from the poem by Bulkley chosen by Dow:

Spirit of the Fall

What towering form erects its figure here,
To check the footsteps of inquiring man,
As if it were a sentry at his post,
To guard with faithfulness the narrow pass?
It is the Rock of Manitou, the Pinnacle
On which the gloomy spirit of the Fall,
Sits brooding o’er the tide below, that shows
His fearful frowns reflected in its wave,
Or feels the movements of his busy hand
Searching its depths and torturing its course,
Till its full currents reel in conscious pain!

How high the Water-God his altar rears
With jagged summits from a liquid base!
How green the moss that decks its time-worn crown,
Like youthful forms that cluster round old age !
From yonder cliff, impending o’er the stream
With shadowy fringes of the evergreen,
This massive pile, like an inverted cone,
Seems hurled in other years with giant hand,
Upon the kindred masses dashed below!


Source: Rev. C.H.A. Bulkley.  Niagara. A Poem. New York: Leavitt, Trow & Co., 1848

Spirit of the Fall is also published in Rhine, Alice HynemanNiagara Park illustrated : original and selected, descriptions, poems and adventures. New York: Niagara Pub. Co., 1885; New York: William T. Hunter, 1888

Ode to a School by Stephanie Vigh Nielsen

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The Former Lundy’s Lane School, April 2021. Photo courtesy of Robert Nielsen

There’s an old school in Niagara
It’s located on Lundy’s Lane
With front and back roof dormers
And windows of diamond pane

Ornate with decorative detail
In classical Edwardian times
Clean lines with a portico entrance
And oh how that old bell could chime

Just a short walk to Green’s Corners
I was only six at the time
And my heart would fill with excitement
As I joined my friends in the line

My teacher was tall and stern
Her hair tied up in a bun
But all the students loved her
Because she made learning so much fun.

Alphabet cards on the chalk board
Magic letters that turned into words
Oh the joy I felt when I realized
I had entered a whole new world

Fun with Dick and Jane readers,
Weekly spelling games
Reciting multiplication tables
In my school on Lundy’s Lane.

The old school is looking sad now
Wooden planks are covering those panes
Chipped paint and looking very unkempt
That sweet school on Lundy’s Lane.

Remember the importance of preservation
As our dear Ruth Redmond said
She valued the importance of history
It will last long after we’re dead.

Cherish our history forever
Like Europeans have done throughout time
Please can we all join together
And save this old school of mine.


Source: The author, 2021

Visit Stephanie Vigh Nielsen’s Niagara Proud website

Visit the City of Niagara Falls’ Heritage Property Listing for the Lundy’s Lane School