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(From Frontenac)
SWEET, sylvan lake! in memory’s gold | |
| Is set the time when first my eye | |
| From thy green shore beheld thee hold | |
| Thy mirror to the sunset sky. | |
| No ripple brushed its delicate air, | 5 |
| Rich silken tints alone were there; | |
| The far opposing shore displayed, | |
| Mingling its tints, a tender shade; | |
| A sail, scarce seeming to the sight | |
| To move, spread there its pinion white, | 10 |
| Like some pure spirit stealing on | |
| Down from its realm, by beauty won. | |
| Oh, who could view the scene, nor feel | |
| Its gentle peace within him steal, | |
| Nor in his inmost bosom bless | 15 |
| Its rich and radiant loveliness! | |
| My heart bent low its willing knee | |
| Before the glorious Deity; | |
| Beauty led up my soul to Him,— | |
| Beauty, though cold and poor and dim | 20 |
| Beside his radiance, beauty still | |
| That made my inmost bosom thrill; | |
| To loftier life my being wrought, | |
| And purified my every thought; | |
| Crept, like soft music, through my mind, | 25 |
| And every feeling soft refined, | |
| Lifting me, that pure, lovely even, | |
| One precious moment up to heaven. | |
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| Then, contrast wild, I saw the cloud, | |
| The next day, rear its sable crest; | 30 |
| And heard, with awe, the thunder loud | |
| Come, crashing, o’er thy blackening breast. | |
| Down swooped the Eagle of the Blast; | |
| One mass of foam flew, tossing high; | |
| While the red lightnings fierce and fast | 35 |
| Shot from the wild and scowling sky; | |
| And burst in mad and mighty train | |
| One tumbling cataract, the rain. | |
| I saw, within the driving mist, | |
| Dim, writhing, stooping shapes;—the trees | 40 |
| That the last eve so softly kissed, | |
| And birds so filled with melodies. | |
| Still rushed the wind with keener shriek; | |
| The tossing waters higher rolled; | |
| Still fiercer flashed the lightning’s streak, | 45 |
| Still gloomier frowned the tempest’s fold. | |
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| Ah! such, ah! such is life, I sighed, | |
| That lovely yester eve and this. | |
| Now it reflects the radiant pride | |
| Of youth and hope and promised bliss; | 50 |
| Earth’s future track an Eden seems | |
| Far lovelier than our loveliest dreams. | |
| Again, the tempest rushes o’er, | |
| The sky’s blue smile is seen no more; | |
| The placid deep to foam is tossed, | 55 |
| All trace of peace and beauty lost. | |
| Despair is hovering, dark and wild. | |
| Ah, what can save Earth’s stricken child! | |
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| Sweet, sylvan lake! beside thee now | |
| Green hamlets point their spires to heaven; | 60 |
| Rich meadows wave, broad grain-fields bow, | |
| The axe resounds, the plough is driven, | |
| Down verdant slopes roam herds to drink; | |
| Flocks strew, like spots of snow, thy brink; | |
| The frequent farm-house greets the sight; | 65 |
| Mid falling harvests scythes are bright; | |
| The watch-dog’s bark sounds faint from far; | |
| Shakes on the ear the saw-mill’s jar; | |
| The steamer, like a gliding bird, | |
| Stems the rich emerald of thy wave; | 70 |
| And the gay song and laugh are heard, | |
| But all is o’er the Indian’s grave! | |
| Pause, white man! check thy onward stride! | |
| Cease o’er the wave thy prow to guide! | |
| Until is given one sigh sincere | 75 |
| For those who once were monarchs here; | |
| And prayer is made, beseeching God | |
| To spare us his avenging rod | |
| For all the wrongs upon the head | |
| Of the poor, helpless savage shed; | 80 |
| Who, strong when we were weak, did not | |
| Trample us down upon the spot, | |
| But, weak when we were strong, were cast | |
| Like leaves upon the rushing blast. | |
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| Sweet, sylvan lake! one single gem | 85 |
| Glitters in thy green diadem. | |
| No sister has this fairy isle | |
| To yield its beauty smile for smile; | |
| With it, to hear the bluebird sing, | |
| “Wake, leaves and flowers! here comes the Spring!” | 90 |
| With it, to weave for Summer’s tread | |
| Mosses below, and bowers o’erhead; | |
| With it, to flash on gorgeous skies | |
| The opal pomp of Autumn dyes, | |
| And when stern Winter’s tempests blow, | 95 |
| To shrink beneath his robes of snow. | |
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| Sweet, sylvan lake! that isle of thine | |
| Is like one hope through grief to shine; | |
| Is like one tie our life to cheer; | |
| Is like one flower when all is sere; | 100 |
| One ray amid the tempest’s might; | |
| One star amid the gloom of night. | |
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