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(From To the Lady Charlotte R—wd—n)
I DREAMED not then that, ere the rolling year | |
| Had filled its circle, I should wander here | |
| In musing awe; should tread this wondrous world, | |
| See all its store of inland waters hurled | |
| In one vast volume down Niagara’s steep, | 5 |
| Or calm behold them, in transparent sleep, | |
| Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed | |
| Their evening shadows o’er Ontario’s bed; | |
| Should trace the grand Cadaraqui, and glide | |
| Down the white rapids of his lordly tide | 10 |
| Through massy woods, mid islets flowering fair, | |
| And blooming glades, where the first sinful pair | |
| For consolation might have weeping trod, | |
| When banished from the garden of their God. | |
| O Lady! these are miracles, which man, | 15 |
| Caged in the bounds of Europe’s pygmy span, | |
| Can scarcely dream of,—which his eye must see | |
| To know how wonderful this world can be! | |
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| But lo! the last tints of the west decline, | |
| And night falls dewy o’er these banks of pine. | 20 |
| Among the reeds, in which our idle boat | |
| Is rocked to rest, the wind’s complaining note | |
| Dies like a half-breathed whispering of flutes; | |
| Along the wave the gleaming porpoise shoots, | |
| And I can trace him, like a watery star, | 25 |
| Down the steep current, till he fades afar | |
| Amid the foaming breakers’ silvery light, | |
| Where yon rough rapids sparkle through the night. | |
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