Eternal — prototype of God!
When first the morning stars did sing,
And the all-glorious sun was placed on high;
How didst thou rear thy awful crest
At His own bidding, and thy thunders spoke
Of the creation born — and ever onward
Through successive ages still is thy impetuous course,
Bespeaking praise to Him, thy great Creator:
Lo, the poor Indian doth bend before thee —
And in thy presence feels that God is nigh!
And the Great Spirit near him to protect:
All recognize in thee — power, greatness — vastness!
Beautiful, most beautiful, whether
In thy murmuring music
Or thy reverberating, echoing thunders,
And thy feathery spray, and rainbows,
Bespeaking hope and faith;
And as thou dashest o’er the ledge,
Behold the gorgeous emerald green,
Woven through with silvery thread —
And then thy milky flood below,
And eddies and o’erhanging rocks,
Call forth the exclamation, “beautiful.”
Serene — thou art and in thy presence
We do feel sweet peace to steal
O’er us, and that the soul all lost
To earth and all around, doth wing
Its thoughts to other scenes,
And we do dwell afar ‘mong those
Long lost and dwellers in a better land.
The mind is lulled to a repose
And we feel
Ready to lean on God and trust in Him.
Sublime — surpassing far all else
Of thy own nature — thou art monarch
Over all and doth feel thy power —
Who shall stop thy way,
Or say unto thy floods, flow not?
Thou wouldst dash aside the net
Woven by vain man to hold thee,
And rend them as the brittle reed.
I have paid my tribute to thee,
And now I will repose — thou hast been
To me a lesson deep and ineffaccable —
And I leave this spot, I trust, a better man.
Philadelphia, August 2, 1847.
Source: Table Rock Album and Sketches of the Falls and Scenery Adjacent. Buffalo: Steam Press of Thomas and Lathrops, copyright by Jewett, Thomas & Co.,1856c.1848
This link takes you to the scanned version of the 1855 version of Table Rock Album from the Hathi Trust
Interior of the Hi-Lite Restaurant in Niagara Falls
Long live the All Day Breakfast diner
that makes this world of rainy days finer! —
The coffee cup, the stirring spoon
mixing sugar & cream, first sip soon
And then– all things better —
no matter the weather, a blessing or a curse
beautiful or ugly, its all the same universe.
The constant hustle streams by on sidewalk while
the serene sips inside produce an effortless smile
We owe it to ourselves
to put the tools down for a minute
& turn our backs on the machine, forget it.
Bartholomew Bakelaar by Nichole Bakelaar
Sip a coffee in a booth, forget seeking truth, fall silent in peace, let it all be.
Have a second, third , a fourth cup of coffee
there’s no hurry, nowhere to go, nowhere to be.
The galaxy wheels overhead in perfect harmony
with all there is, even as you sit
enjoying yr own company
at the All Day Breakfast diner, tell me
what could be finer?
Portage Around the Falls of Niagara at Table Rock, by George Catlin, 1847/1848
Niagara, I love to hear thy voice,
And while I look on thy array of waters
Careering onward with resistless force,
And showing forth all the might and power of Him
Who ruleth over all — ’tis then my soul
Is filled with awe, and I can realize
That God is here, that he is present now.
Oh! let a song of praise ascend to Him
Who gives us all things richly to enjoy,
And while we gaze upon this glorious scene,
Let us remember thou dost shadow forth
The glory of Omnipotence.
Awe-struck we gaze on these o’erhanging rocks,
And mark thy waters as they onward flow,
And hear, Niagara! thy unceasing roar.
We watch the clouds of spray as they ascend,
And view the bright inimitable green,
Too dazzling to the eye, and then we feel
That scenes like these, stupendous and sublime,
Must lose their greatness when compared with Him
Whose presence fills the immensity; then while ’tis ours
To gaze upon His works, may we be led
To worship and adore; to live for Him,
That when earth’s scenes shall fail before our eyes,
We may behold more glorious worlds above,
And through the sacrifice of Him who gave
His life for fallen man, dwell ever more
Where love, and joy, and peace forever reign.
New York, August 12, 1847.
Source: Table Rock Album and Sketches of the Falls and Scenery Adjacent. Buffalo: Steam Press of Thomas and Lathrops, copyright by Jewett, Thomas & Co.,1856c.1848
This link takes you to the scanned version of the 1855 version of Table Rock Album from the Hathi Trust
‡‡My lyre! give me my lyre! My bosom feels The glow of inspiration. O how long Have I been left in darkness since this light Last visited my brow, Niagara! Thou with thy rushing waters dost restore The heavenly gift that sorrow took away.
‡‡Tremendous torrent! For an instant hush The terrors of thy voice and cast aside Those wide involving shadows, that my eyes May see the fearful beauty of thy face! I am not all unworthy of thy sight, For from my very boyhood have I loved, Shunning the meaner track of common minds, To look on nature in her loftier moods.
‡‡At the fierce rushing of the hurricane, At the near bursting of the thunderbolt I have been touched with joy; and when the sea, Lashed by the wind, hath rocked my bark and showed Its yawning caves beneath me, I have loved Its dangers and the wrath of elements. But never yet the madness of the sea Hath moved me as thy grandeur moves me now.
‡‡Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves Grow broken ‘midst the rocks; thy current then Shoots onward like the irresistible course Of destiny. Ah, terribly they rage ― The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze Upon the hurrying waters, and my sight Vainly would follow, as toward the verge Sweeps the wide torrent — waves innumerable Meet there and madden — waves innumerable Urge on the overtake the waves before, And disappear in thunder and in foam.
‡‡They reach — they leap the barrier — the abyss Swallows insatiable the sinking waves. A thousand rainbows arch them, and woods Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock Shatters to vapor the descending sheets — A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves The mighty pyramid of circling mist To heaven. The solitary hunter near Pauses with terror in the forest shades.
‡‡What seeks my restless eye? Why are not here, About the jaws of this abyss, the palms — Ah — the delicious palms, that on the plains Of my own native Cuba, spring and spread Their thickly foliaged summits to the sun, And, in the breathings of the ocean air, Wave soft beneath the heaven’s unspotted blue?
‡‡But no, Niagara, — thy forest pines Are fitter coronal for thee. The palm, The effeminate myrtle, and frail rose may grow In gardens, and give out their fragrance there, Unmanning him who breathes it. Thine it is To do a nobler office. Generous minds Behold thee, and are moved, and learn to rise Above earth’s frivolous pleasures; they partake Thy grandeur, at the utterance of thy name.
‡‡God of all truth! in other lands I’ve seen Lying philosophers, blaspheming men, Questioners of thy mysteries, that draw Their fellows deep into impiety, And therefore doth my spirit seek thy face In earth’s majestic solitudes. Even here My heart doth open all itself to thee. In this immensity of loneliness I feel thy hand upon me. To my ear The eternal thunder of the cataract brings Thy voice, and I am humbled as I hear.
‡‡Dread torrent! that with wonder and with fear Dost overwhelm the soul of him that looks Upon thee, and dost bear it from itself, Whence hast thou thy beginning? Who supplies, Age after age, thy unexhausted springs? What power hath ordered, that, when all thy weight Descends into the deep, the swollen waves Rise not, and roll to overwhlem the earth?
‡‡The Lord hath opened his omnipotent hand, Covered thy face with clouds, and given his voice To thy down-rushing waters; he hath girt Thy terrible forehead with his radiant bow. I see thy never-resting waters run, And I bethink me how the tide of time Sweeps to eternity. So pass of man — Pass, like a noon-day dream — the blossoming days, And he awakes to sorrow. I alas! Feel that my youth is withered, and my brow Ploughed early with the lines of grief and care.
‡‡Never have I so deeply felt as now The hopeless solitude, the abandonment, The anguish of a loveless life. Alas! How can the impassioned, the unfrozen heart Be happy without love? I would that one Beautiful, — worthy to be loved and joined In love with me, — now shared my lonely walk On this tremendous brink. ‘T were sweet to see Her dear face touched with paleness, and become More beautiful from fear, and overspread With a faint smile while clinging to my side! Dreams — dreams. I am an exile, and for me There is no country and there is no love.
‡‡Hear, dread Niagara, my latest voice! Yet a few years and the cold earth shall close Over the bones of him who sings thee now Thus feelingly. Would that this, my humble verse, Might be like thee, immortal. I, meanwhile, Cheerfully passing to the appointed rest, Might raise my radiant forehead in the clouds To listen to the echoes of my fame.
Source: Hills, Elijah Clarence (ed). The Odes of Bello, Olmedo and Heredia. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1920.
Also in the anthology Niagara Mornings by Andrew C. Porteus, 2016.
Also published in a condensed version in Johnson, Richard L. (ed). Niagara: Its History, Incidents and Poetry. Washington: Walter Neale General Book Publisher, 1898
Also published in Rhine, Alice Hyneman. Niagara Park illustrated : original and selected, descriptions, poems and adventures. New York: William T. Hunter, 1888
Also published in: Holley, George W., ed. The Falls of Niagara. Baltimore: A.C. Armstrong & Son, 1883
