The Fugitive Slave’s Apostrophe to Niagara by E.D.H.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Hail to thy roaring flood,
Eternal torrent ! dark Niagara , hail !
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡How bounds my boiling blood,
As thy loud voice comes thundering on the gale,
And the tumultuous waves thy dark-brown rocks assail.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Fierce is thy thunder-shock,
As the wild waters in their madness leap
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡From the eternal rock,
Plunging and raging, with impetuous sweep,
Till on the lake’s calm breast thy boiling billows sleep.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡So terrible and strong,
Whirl maddening passions in the bondman’s breast,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Trampled and scarred by Wrong,
Ere the tired spirit finds its hallowed rest,
In Freedom’s stormless home, and glorious sunlight blessed.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Roll and roar on, wild river !
Man’s fetters cannot bind thy billows free—,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Chainless and strong forever ;
As thou hast been, thy leaping flood shall be,
Guarding, with watery wall, the land of liberty.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Glory to God on high !
Free as thy tide are my unshackled limbs ;
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And here, unawed, will I
Join the wild chorus thy mad torrent hymns,
Stirring the pictured mist that o’er thy bosom swims.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Far from the southern plains,
I’ve traced my pathway, through the sunless wild,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Spurning the hated chains
That on my heel clanked heavy, from a child,
Binding to earth the soul, degraded and defiled.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡On, by the beacon led,
That burns, unerring, in the northern sky,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡O’er the lone fields I fled,
To where thy thunder lifts its voice on high,
And to the bondman tells the land of freedom nigh.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Here, by thy foaming surge,
Back on the hated land where I was born, —
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Land of the chain and scourge, —
I pour the fires of unrelenting scorn,
And hatred that shall burn, till life’s last ray is gone.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡“Home of the true and brave,”
Where BASTARD FREEDOM broods her mongrel horde,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And on the imbruted slave
Plants the red heel, and with the life-blood poured,
Stains the fell altars, where her horrid name’s adored.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡It gave me but the chain,
The scourge, and task, and bondman’s life of woe,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And ruthless torn in twain
The holiest ties that bind us here below, —
Hearts that inwoven beat with one united flow.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Nor thus to me alone, —
But fettered millions lift their arms on high,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And shriek, and wail, and groan,
To Heaven ascending, in one fearful cry,
Bid the red bolts of wrath in hissing vengeance fly.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And yet our God shall turn,
And on this land his fiery volleys pour,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Till his fierce wrath shall burn
From far Astoria, to her eastern shore,
And from her Sable cape, to where thy waters roar.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Joy to the bondmen then,
When his right arm is laid for Justice bare,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And loud from every glen
And mountain, lit by one funereal glare,
Ascends the tyrant’s wail upon the troubled air.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Then shall thy torrent be
Their strong munition, and its bounding flood
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡A guard, to them that flee
From the Avenger of the Negro’s blood ;
Where blackness shrouds the land, where erst her glory stood.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Over thy rugged brow
Changeless and bright, the bow of promise bends,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Making the dark mist glow,
As Hope the clouds of Sorrow, when she lends
To Earth the joyous light which from her glance descends.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Eternal Priestess, thine
Is the pure baptism of the chainless free ;
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Cool on this brow of mine
Thy holy drops descend, as broad to me
Unroll the temple-gates of meek-eyed Liberty !

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Let the fell tyrant rage ;
Into thy arms my sinewy form I fling,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡And though his keel may wage
Mad warfare with thy billows, buffeting
The roaring floods with might, thou’lt guard me from his sting.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡He may not cross thy tide,
With the strong fetters of a tyrant’s power ;
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Thy waves in foaming pride
The shrieking wretch in madness would devour,
And clap their hands, and shout the bondman’s triumph hour.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡O that the Negro’s God
Would give to dust this mortal part once more,
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡That o’er thy awful flood,
Swathed in the cloud-wreath dim, my soul might soar,
Exulting in the sound of thy eternal roar.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡Loud with thy thunder tone
My voice shall blend, and when this land shall rock
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡With its last earthquake groan,
My shout the tyrant’s dying shriek should mock,
And chant the victor -hymn to Ruin’s rending shock.

November 1, 1841

Source: Buckingham, Joseph Tinker. Personal Memoirs and Recollections of Editorial Life. Boston: Ticknor, 1852.

Read about the Underground Railroad which helped fugitive slaves to freedom in Canada

Niagara by Duncan Forbes

I salute you, O Frenchman, fellow-republican,
Crosser of chasms, traverser of rivers,
Walking on a rope of hempen fiber
Above the roaring thunder of mighty Niagara.

A human miracle over a natural wonder,
You walk step by step on the tautened rope
Above the spume, the spray, the ever-rising vapor
Of the cataract’s incessantly tumbling torrent.

On a filament, balanced between America and Canada,
You perform mid-crossing an impudent somersault
Over a cumulus cloud of spray-water rising.

Small man with balancing-pole, in circus costume,
You wear a blindfold and saunter over the abyss
In the watery smells of the misty air.

You cannot hear the shouts and cheers of the thousands
Watching your nimble footwork over precipitous vistas,
As we applaud the magnitude of your achievements
Above the magnificent drop of the roaring waters.

O Blondin, bridger of chasms,
I extol your unique intrepidity
As I salute Niagara afresh in this song.

The torrent unabashed, unabated, rushes headlong to crash
Into the tumult of the diluvian waterfall,
A half-drowned rainbow spectral in all that spray.

Above it you walk on a tightrope and all the while
Blue Erie moves towards Ontario
Over mighty Niagara falling, night and day.

©Duncan Forbes

First published in his collection Voice Mail, 2002

This poem was inspired by the painting by Silveira at the top of the page.

Poet Duncan Forbes is the author of seven collections, the most recent of which is Human Time (2020) His poems have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies and have been published by Faber, Secker and Enitharmon who brought out a Selected Poems in 2009.

Born and educated in Oxford, he has taught English Language and Literature for many years and – apart from writing poetry – is also interested in painting and the visual arts. Duncan has written essays and articles on a variety of subjects.

Visit Duncan Forbes’ website

For more information on Blondin, visit Niagara Falls Thunder Alley

The Niagara River by Kay Ryan

As though
the river were
a floor, we position
our table and chairs
upon it, eat, and
have conversation.
As it moves along,
we notice—as
calmly as though
dining room paintings
were being replaced—
the changing scenes
along the shore. We
do know, we do
know this is the
Niagara River, but
it is hard to remember
what that means.

Kay Ryan, the sixteenth Library of Congress’ Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry, has published a book of poetry with its title taken from her poem The Niagara River. The Niagara Falls Poetry Project has received permission to post this poem.

Information about the book can be found on Grove Atlantic’s website and on Goodreads .

Kay Ryan reads from and discusses The Niagara River starting at 16:20

Listen to a podcast about The Niagara River from Mark Scarborough, host of Lyric Life.

Niagara River and Falls by The Bard of Niagara (J.B. Waid)

Pleasant, peaceful, quiet river,
Limpid, constant, onward ever,
    Gentle waters roll away ;
Calm as summer, bright as morning,
Not a look, or sign of warning,
    Naught of danger dost thou say,
But gliding along, mild and strong,
               To the Rapids.
                    Then
Sporting, murm'ring, tossing, splashing,
Storming, raving, crossing, dashing,
    Troubled waters fret away ;
Hasting, pushing, staving, darting,
Islands mad'ning thee to parting,
    Yet thy tumult cannot stay;
But, tearing along, mad and strong,
               To the chasm.
                    Then
Curving, bending, bursting, breaking,
Sliding, leaping, rushing, quaking,
    Flying waters dart away ;
Flashing, sparkling, wailing, rumbling,
O'er the brink an ocean tumbling,
    To a world of foam and spray,
Fierce shooting along, proud and strong,
               We see thee now
                     In
Stately grandeur, awful wonder,
Hear thy voice in terms of thunder;
    Falling waters roar away,
Pouring, showering, misting, streaming,
Rob'd in rainbow colors beaming,
    Deck'd by Sol's, or Luna's ray,
Swift plunging along, grand and strong,
               To the bottom.
                    Then
Foaming, boiling, surging, thrashing,
Breaching, swelling, heaving, crashing,
    Furious waters foam away,
Babbling, roaring, brawling, curling,
Gurgling, wailing, whisking, whirling ;
    Fanciful thy currents play,
Still pressing along, bold and strong,
               Dimpling, pouting.
                    Then
Gathering, kissing, whispering, hushing,
Panting, smiling, frisking, rushing,
    Lovely waters roll away ;
Winding, eddying, purling, playing,
Lakeward still, and never staying,
    Rustling on thy shining way ;
Free coursing along, calm and strong,
               Soon to mingle
                    With
Ontario's tideless waters—
Long to be thy prison quarters ;
    Noble river die away.
But I err, a poet's blunder,
Still I hear thy deaf'ning thunder ;
    Here thou art, and here must stay
World-wide wonder, mighty, strong
      Niagara !

Source: J.B. Waid. Variety : Poetry and Prose. Montreal : J. Lovell, 1872.
Waid, born 1804, was (self?)styled The Bard of Niagara

The Niagara River by Elsie Stevens

stevens

How many ages did it thunder
This gathering of four inland seas,
Rushing onward to the ocean,
Through a maze of forest trees?

Three hundred years have come and gone
Since Hennepin recorded the scene,
“It was like an Alpine torrent” he wrote
How glorious it must have been.

In and along this winding river
History has been made,
Indians fighting for their country
White men for fame and trade.

The once great barrier now is harnessed,
To give home owners heat and light,
But in its primeval solitude
It was a wondrous sight.

Now there is no dense forest,
No bear, wolf or bounding deer,
But the meandering Niagara river,
Brings joy all through the year!

Source: RG 18, Women’s Literary Club of St. Catharines Fonds, 1892-1996, Brock University Archives, Brock University. [1978?]

Elsie Stevens was an active member of the Women’s Literary Club of St. Catharines for many years.

A note on the date: Stevens refers to 300 years “since Hennepin recorded the scene.” Hennepin was in Niagara in December, 1678.

Tag: Niagara River

The Fugitive Slave’s Apostrophe to Niagara by E.D.H.

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Niagara by Duncan Forbes

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The Niagara River by Kay Ryan

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Niagara River and Falls by The Bard of Niagara (J.B. Waid)

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The Niagara River by Elsie Stevens

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