Watkins Glen and Seneca Lake

The following is a word-for-word reprint of the text, and in some cases, images, of a printed poetry book sold as a souvenir starting in 1895. Any typos or inaccuracies have been left intact, but the document has been re-flowed to fit the webpage. This book is now a part of the public domain. A lot has changed since then, which is why we are publishing this content. It is for educational purposes only. If you want a more recent guide and description, see our Watkins Glen State Park page.

WATKINS GLEN AND SENECA LAKE

BY MRS. JAS. A. DRAKE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

WATKINS, NY

DEMOCRAT PRINTING HOUSE,
1895

Watkins Glen and Seneca Lake

Where light the flashing waters lave,
And lift their silver-crested wave ;
Unfolding on the pebbled beach,
As if to answering tokens reach ;
With grandly range of sloping hills,
And legacy of sparkling rills ;
And where the laughing, light cascade
Of silver beaded spray is made ;
Though oft concealed by gorges deep,
And lost in wild and frenzied leap ;
While sweeping down the cavernous glide,
To find a home in deeper tide.

A spot once near the red man’s heart,
Where speed lent wing to quivering dart ;
Though those once owners of the vale,
Left no proud mark to tell their tale,
Yet will their strange and wild romances,
And every spot that could enhance,
The bliss they hoped at length to share,
In future homes, as Eden fair.

Thus had they met, their grave, their gay,
To pass the evening hours away,
Applauding deeds of men athletic,
Or listening- to the voice prophetic ;
As their good Sachem prayed and wept,
And sought to raise the veil that kept
That future in uncertain maze,
On which his longing eyes would gaze.

How quick their flight, for morning dew,
Their council fires burned dim and low,
And casting but a feeble glow,
Upon their faces, stained and grim,
Like fading phantoms, ghostly dim,
While whispers from the tall pine tops,
Are stealing down the shadowy rocks ;
And heard by-them the sad’ning sound
Of civilization on their bound !
As voices sent in spirit tone,
To bid them from their haunts begone.

Shows printed pathway to the view,
Where their light feet at early hour,
Brushed pearly dew from leaf and flower.
They haste away from vale and stream,
Ere lighted up by sunny gleam ;
Beneath the stately walnut pass,
Where trodden more the fading- grass,
But pause to pick from branches low
The wild plum, ripe with ruddy glow ;
Then hasten to the pebbly glade,
Beyond the tall elm’s sombre shade,
And forth their little fleet to guide
O’er Ga-nu-dy-uh’s* silver tide.

With low-bowed heads and quivering lip,
Their paddles ply with silver drip ;
And as the trees soft semblance take,
While to the dawn the hills awake,
With ” Painted Rock’s ” attractive face,
Historic of their fated race,
Their shadows from the deep reflect,
And sad’ning memories affect
Their superstitions minds with dread,
While passing by their kindred dead.

The white gull, which in summer time
E’er seeks a home in northern clime,
When maple shows its scarlet leaf,
And golden corn is bound in sheaf,
Forsakes the realms of the frost king
Returns to rest her weary wing,
Where rippling waters e’er withstand
The iron grip of winter’s hand,
Had just arrived with low, glad trill,
In ” Seneca ” to bathe her bill.
When startled from her quiet rest,
With wings outstretched she rears her crest,
And on her pinions circling high
She hears the ” Wa-ha-no-nin ” cry ;
A cadence wild, with touching wail,
Where echo adds the solemn knell.

These birds by them are sacred held,
(So handed down from clouds of eld—)
Are looked upon with awe and fear,
As they behold them hovering near ;
And deem them kindred spirits sent,
On mission now of sad portent,
To tell them that the fiat’s passed,—
This going- forth will be their last.

Onward through the sorrowing day
They hasten on their watery way ;
While dimming distance intervenes,
And hides from them familiar scenes,
And shadows stealthy creeping- o’er,
Have spread their pall from western cover ;
And ripples bearing tints of gray,
Remind them of departed day.

Their little craft on western shore
They leave to enter never more,
And sadly passing, one by one,
Their trail lies toward the setting sun.

With time progressive in its raid,
And martyrdom of native shade,
Dawns now, the while, a kindlier ray,
Predictive of a brighter day,
As from refined and city home,
‘Neath church’s spire and science’s dome,
Of ancient lineage, one came
The wild inheritance to claim.

With healing skill, and winning way,
Exalted stood, in that rude day
A vested monarch of the realm,
With princely power to guide the helm;
With wakened pulse to scan the chart,
And feel the throb of Nature’s heart ;
By lapse of woodland, hill, and dale,
And mirrored charms, that hem the vale—
Outlining of the distant view,
With flooding tide of rosy hue ;
A sylvan scene, as o’er it lay
The early smile of summer day.

Enchantments hitherto unknown,
Awake in him, a kindred tone ;
As sunlight on imprisoned flowers
That spring to life with April showers
And with prophetic instinct true
The open future held in view,
As through the vista of the years,
At budding charm, and fame he peers.

When in obedience to his will,
Assisted by inferior skill,
Here all the higher aims should thrive,
And craft for noblest ends should strive ;
Where art and commerce should combine—
And science and religion shine ;
And education—precious boon,
The people’s birthright should be soon.

Revered and honored, lived to hail
The advent of the iron rail ,
And in the riper years ere long,
Was borne from ‘midst the busy throng,
Beneath the waving plumes was laid
Of “Glenwood’s ” soft perpetual shade ;

Arises now, in pristine fame,
A lovely spot, with honored name ;—
A constellation on its way
Progressing toward a brighter day,
Already rich in theme for story,
With presage bright for future glory.

While time, unchallenged, slow to ken
The ways and wiles of mountain glen,
Solves now the charm that held the key
To carnival of maddest glee !
With license granted to unfold
The mysteries of the sheltered wold.

Provincial, in its trident birth
Preceding that of peopled earth,
And shares with this fair spot its fame,
Its laurels and its honored name.

Though not of ” Oriental ” tone,
Of gorgeous hall, or gilded throne,
Of yellow-robed or chanting priest,
Or penance at a five-hour feast ;
Of Siam’s glories cannot boast,
Though in itself no less a host,
With diamond curve and foam cascade,
With beaming sky and frowning shade,
With wizard realm and dulcet sound,
In nature’s harmonies profound.

High lifts the woody, crested ridge,
Where hemlocks sombre seem to bridge
With arms deep-fringed, extending o’er,
Enfold the track of wave-pressed shore,
Where tuneful in resistless sweep,
The floods their matin chimes repeat ;
That plough the mighty cavernous seam,
Where nature rules in right supreme.
Entrancing in its opening view,
Undimmed the spells when seen anew ;
Awed by outpourings beaming o’er,
With hidden wonders still in store.

A mighty groove, in cone-like shape,
More bold than architectural make ;
Colossal walls of granite gray,
Majestic in their vast array,
And face an open page, whereon
A transcript reads of things now gone.
Fit portals to interior hall,
The morning sun ninnies the wall,
But soon the sombre shadows chase
His radiance from the rocky base,
And as we gaze on changing scene,
Displayed upon enduring sheen,
The evanescent works of man,
E’er since his brief career began,
Pygmean stand, to master hand
Embodied in this tablet grand !

Within the battlements embayed,
As if begotten of the shade,
Of concentrated hues were born,
With look imploring and forlorn,
A wooden structure dots the way,
Fit domicile for elf or fay,
Where half disclosed, a broken wheel
The water’s pulse has ceased to feel,
Or lure from out the broader ways,
To dance within its giddy maze ;
And days are with the byegones long
Since rocks took up the rumbling song,
Repeated in the sunny gleam,
Borne outward on the rippling stream,
And only hues befitting well
Seem now to claim it with their spell.
Though crumbling slowly to decay,
But in a sacrilegious day ;
Could direful power a fate ordain
That breaks a link in scenery’s chain,
And leaves us but the artist’s view,
Or to the power of. memory true,
To call it up to sight, as when
An inspiration of the Glen !

With charming lift of wild domain,
An entrance to its portal gain ;
By track that dents the pebbled glide,
‘Neath snatch of fragrant mountain side,
And ” Old Methuselah’s” furzy face,
With shadows sleeping- at its base ;
And ” Rock of Ages,” stern, sublime,
An impress of all coming time ;
With cap and crown no art bath made,
Huge monuments that ne’er shall fade !
No waning charms, shall cease to know,
While seasons come and ages go ;
And summer weaves her perfumed wreath,
Her ever varying hues bequeath ;
As time keeps tally, one by one,
E’er glorious with the autumn sun,
While winter’s wand, of magic power,
Invokes enchantments for the hour ;
And furzy heads, with age grow hoar,
With faces seamed, and wrinkled more ;
While furrows deepen with the glow,
And longer bent, of shadow bow,
And frown, with chill, and quivered dart,
The Rip Van Winkle charm impart,
Conferring with his gifts forsooth
A silver beard of magic growth !

In aspect castellated, grand,
And more pretentious in their stand,
Huge columns seem to bar the way,
While daylight gathers tints of gray,
With water circling at their feet,
A prelude to the bedded steep.
In close embrace of outward wall,
(Portending an interior hall,)
O’ershadowed by a turret wing,
A staircase rude is found to cling ;
And hence the entrance porch is gained,
A vestibule more grand attained,
Than that of “Norman Castle” old ;—
Might savor of as strong a hold,
With deep wrought walls of blended gray,
(And silken tapestry of spray)
Adorned with plumy tufts of fern,
As trophies hung on grim walls stern,
While overhanging columns rise,
That might in fancy kiss the skies !
With jut o’er jut, and peak o’er peak
Of tower and minaret bespeak ;
With but a slender thread of blue,
Relief to tint of deeper hue.
Where, if the far famed ” Blarney stone,”
Enchanted from its ancient throne,
And of aspiring, skyward lift,
Had found its niche within the rift,—
Embedded high above the gloam,
Less easy might the task become,
To venturous knights, who crave the bliss
Or vaunted virtues of the kiss,
Than that of Erin’s sons of old,
Who scaled the walls of feudal hold.

With outward look from ” Portal gate,”
A huge embodiment of fate,
O’erhung by adamantine prow,
And Sentry Cliff’s projective brow.
Weird, dwarfed, and bent, distorted quite,
With efforts vain to grow upright,
” Old Tempest” bows his body low,
To mock “Glen Alpha’s parting flow.
Uncouth as e’en-the cloven pine,
Imprisoned Ariel’s threads confine,
Too pure a spirit to work harm,
Held by the hag Sycorax’s charm,
Till good Prospero should forefend,
The mystic service he might rend,
To be his servant, skies to leap,
Or tread the vortex of the deep,
With word of freedom as his meed,
Subjected him to nobler deed.

Though deep within conflictive ridge,
Full airy hangs the ” Sentry Bridge,”
Where wakened from the dreamy bed,
Alive to migratory tread,
The waters from the shadow flume
At once their wayward moods assume.
And o’er ” Glen Alpha’s” spiral sweep
With gleam of polished curving steep,
Gain reckless speed of winding way,
To join the cascade’s final play,
And mingle with. the glow, and swell
And din of ” Castellated Well.”

Within the depth of sunken room,
A place infernal, lit with gloom,
Held for a time in durance bound,
The waves explore the ramparts ’round ;
In deep embayment doomed to wait,
Their war-like councils to debate,
And with new outbreak, bold, decide
The fickle fate they thus betide ;
Contesting rights ere parting thence,
With last adieu to give, and hence
A broader sweep of freedom gain,—
No longer wed to wild domain.

Amid the hues of spectral shade,
An nightfall deep’ning- on the glade,
A pillard passage marks the steep
Coronal corner of the leap,
And treads full close the cloudy side
With frown, bequeathed to leaden tide,
Beneath the low-bent walls of gray,
Enshronding as the close of day.
A cavern pass, a riven pile
Of rugged cliff, in stern defile,
With record of inscriptive tide
Imprinted on each lowering side,
Of tell-tale walls, the paths begirt.
As step by step its powers assert.

In quiet, dreamy, trance-like rest,
Though cradled on the cataract’s crest,
Where cliff’s o’erhanging- vigils keep,
The river, voiceless, seems to sleep,
No song, no ripple, lost to strife,
Reflecting varied scenes of life,
Impotent thus to linger long,
Ere doomed to give its farewell song,
And with unmeasured notes infuse,
Its orgies in the wild adieus,

The Council Chamber’s liberal door ;
Inviting leads to audience floor,
With memoirs of tribunal hall,
engraved upon inscription wall.
Where still enthroned the veteran pine
Maintains its dignity benign,
And mid-day light is mellowed more,
While fainter comes the wild uproar,
With dip of sunlight peering down
To melt the sage Morvaldon’s frown ;
With scarce a scene of nature’s own
More royal in her annals shown.

By tread of curve, or angle steep,
The maze of doubtful way to keep,
With ruined arch, or broken stair,
Intricate windings, mount with care,
To jutting crag, the ” Lover’s Seat,”
Or tryst tree of the charmed retreat ;
Uplifted where the wild vine swings,
And laughing echo lightly rings,
And longest rests the roseate glow
Ere twilight gives its deepening flow.

And caught from here the flash and glance
Of laughing water’s fairy dance,
Of ” Minnehaha’s ” pearly leap,
While giving tune to double sweep,
With deep refrain from distant lay,
Or revellings in the sombre gray.
More labyrinthian in their ways,
The walls assume a wilder phase,
Where ferns and lichens only dare,
From seam or crevice here and there,
Maintain their most tenacious hold,
On arrogating faces bold,
Where winds ne’er deign in idle play
To sing or chant their fiercer lay;
Or save in shimmerings passing pale,
To penetrate the depth must fail,
The lightning’s gleam or zigzag flash,
Ere comes the thunder’s deeptoned crash,
With muffled growl neath dusky prow,
Or cloud-like roof of canon brow.

Regardful of the pearly drop
That gems the face of shadow rock,
And meekly treads the cold gray
Like phantom nuns, in silver white,
With warmth and sunshine doomed to part,
That strikes a coldness to the heart !
As in the sepulcher of gloom,
Each slowly seeks its troubled tomb.

Within gnomes’ grotto, wierd and gray,
Veiled by the ” Cavern Cascade’s” spray,
Where voices intermingling come,
Like notes from cymbal, harp and drum ;
As if the sprites were hidden there,
To swell the mad, chaotic choir ;
Where heavy walls of molten glow
Like lowering clouds fall deep and low,
And sombre shadows like a pall
Drape gloomily the ” Dantine ” hall ;
Where jutting floor or base protrudes,
Wrought by the Genii’s mystic moods,
With tube-like pool, nefarious made,
In depths of gloom and endless shade,
With passport to each willful wave,
To all explore of spirit cave,
Allured to meet the Stygian gloom,
Or silence of the dead waves’ tomb.

Through vapory clouds of mist and spray,
Enchanters of the wierd-like way,
A staircase huge, and grim to face,
Suggestive of a giant race,
Of vast proportions, massive strength,
Fearful, wondrous in its length,
Where half expectant, pause to meet,
In contact with more daring feet,
Or sooth encounter, face to face,
Some mighty son of earth-born race,
That might in keeping more compare,
With skyward lift of “Giant Stair.”
The steep ascent more wary make,
Where footsteps low voiced echoes wake,
In meagre keeping with the crash
Or answers to the cataracts dash,
Here thundering down in dense cascade
To pool beneath, one plunge is made !
And phantom-like, with flash and glance
Around the shadowy basin dance,
Till forth propelled, by wave more strong,
Resume the burden of their song.

From cavern dash, half way between
The margin of the wild ravine,
And once the giddy heighth attained,
A ” friendly seat ” is not disdained,
Where from above, around, below,
Tumultuous voices come and go ;
In grand continuance swerve along,—
A medley of unbroken song ;
And charmed, bewildered, rests the gaze
On nature, in her wildest phase.

From labyrinthian, misty way,
Diversely reach of carvings gray
By pathway leading up the ledge,
Toilsome wrought by pick and sledge,
Ascent of rugged, flaky side :
Withdrawing from the cataract’s tide,
Where jutting cliff and wall project,
Diversifying in effect.
And broken now, the spell of gray
(Enhancing in its powerful sway,)
Where crowned bills lift their heads full
Enwreathing with the azure sky,
And flood with vivifying green
A benediction on the scene.
With outward view sublimely grand !
From “Resting Rock’s” projective stand,
From open portals now may catch
Of distant hills and vales a snatch,
And through the vista of the gloom
Review the grand “Arenic Room”,
Where echo back to echo calls
From Laughing Waters’ gleeful falls.
” But there came no other answer: ”
Than the echo of his crying,
Than the echo of the woodlands
” Minnehaha !  Minnehaha ! “

From tablet of the walled expanse
Take in the carnival, at a glance,
Or for a moment longer rest,
On frowning cliff, or gothic crest;
Or blur upon a massive face,
With indignation just, to trace,
Where ne’er a rankling wish should steal,
Or mantling brow be made to feel
The axe or pick remorseless lent
On devastating power, so bent.
May all the stones thus wrenched away
Remain as spectres grim and gray—
As goblin shadows on the wall
Of lowly hut, or lordly ball.
Would that some fairy, good and true,
The spot thus desecrated view,
Embower it as a nymphian grot,
With clinging vines to hide the spot.

With liberal scope of sylvan shade
And tread of broad “Sierrean” glade ;
Where voices faint, from tidal play,
Restrained within the narrow way,
Through broken channels in the floor,
Impart their murmuring, o’er and o’er :
Now gleeful with projective stand,
With illtimed notes of unskilled hand,
New invocations break the strain,
Engaging- in the wild refrain,
‘lite joyous chords to pass along,
‘Till revels fill the hall of song !

Now strange, bewildering grows the scene
That shadows forth the dark ravine,
And broken thus the spell might seem,
The chance awakening of a dream ;
For lo! upon the pathway laid,
Ungotten of the wind, or shade,
A structure rude, in seeming quaint
Abode, be for elf, or saint.
Whence did it come ? Wherefore invade
The sacred precints of the shade
Where nature faultless in her way—
Her grand monoply of sway,—
With crown inviolate, long worn
And sceptre undisturbed had borne !
Was it from some meteoric source,
Erratic on its way perforce ?
Or from the bolder bow, when lent
By Jupiter, on mischief bent ?
Or errant, incongruous bound,
Averse to nature’s rulings found?
Opened the wilderness, too intense,
The mad invasion made, and hence,
Where reigned the grand, eternal shade,
With crag, and cliff and moss facade,
Intrusive, verging, on the way,
Unbidden ghosts of tameness play.

Thus, nestled ‘tween the mountain peaks,
This charming spot, predictive speaks !
Arcadian, in its magic claim ;
Prophetic, of unrivaled fame !
A spot, perchance, where fairy lore ;
The circles green, enchases more,
And for a space, it well might seem,
While of the woodland beauties dream ;
That luxuries awaiting here,
To grace the hamlet, with their cheer,
(While loitering ‘neath the restful shade)
Might kinship claim to subtle aid!
Awakened from elysian haunts,
To lower plane of mundane wants;—
For latent craft, or charm, inclined;
Fit food for gods, or mortals, find !

Where chance the day had settled down
And light had fled the oaken crown,
The winds laughed low to see a band
Of elves come tripping hand in hand;
While silvery notes rang loud and clear
From airy circles, sweeping near.
And now, perchance, might pause to see
An anchorite, or such as lie
Enfranchised, thus the rights bestowed
A dweller of the crude abode,
Who refuge seeks from hopes decayed,
In umbrage deep, of mountain shade.
With solitude, no other eye,
Could better teach him how to die,
No flatterers hollow aid to give,
And only with his God to live.
Not “Solitaire” the “mountain cot,”
Though elf or hermit here are not ;
But now, forthsooth, the thatch of gray
Beams with a thank’s inspiring ray,
To one quite near to fame allied,
With wand of reason for his guide,
Byronic-like, within whose heart,
The mountain wilderness claims a part ;
To share the spirit of each spot,
Commingled with his mortal lot,
And whom the gods had found endowed,
‘co fill the blank and pierce the cloud !
To read the charm from index brief
Of chaptered page and elfin leaf ;
With fairer portions, held concealed,
key invincible revealed.
The scenes, sublime ! and wondrous books,
Deyeloped by the running brooks,
With sermons grand, in silent tone ;
Proclaimed from riven walls of stone !
And hence disclosed the wondrous way
Of sylvan shade and cavern gray.

Remote beneath the pathway’s grade,
As if by hand with chisel made,
With haughty stamp of lineament,
To each stern brow a spirit lent,
A marked, artistic skill gives trace
To outlines of “Queen Esther’s” face;
And opposite in bold relief,
The profile of her brave, the “Chief”!
These sombre faces, cold and gray,
Conflicting with the rising spray,
Where time gives scope to busy finger,
And dreary brow is found to linger,
Full augury of obliterate trace,
Typical of their fading race;
Though swept from “Profile Gorge,” archives,
Recorded bravery survives.

“When Indian Summer flings her cloak”
Of brooding azure on the woods,
The pathos of a vanished folk
Shall tinge thy solitudes.
The blue smoke of their fires once more
Far o’er the hills shall seem to rise,
And sunset’s golden clouds restore
The red man’s paradise.

Strange sounds of a forgotten tongue
Shall cling to many a crack and cave,
In wash of falling waters sung,
Or murmur of the wave.
And oft in minmost hush of night,
Shrill o’er the deep-mouthed cataract’s roar,
Shall ring the war-cry from the height
“That woke the wilds of yore.”
Here, cool moss lines the dusky flume
And graceful droops the hemlocks’ plume,
While turbulent in tangled flow,
By wilful juttings deep below,
Come notes of brave defiance hurled,
As discord of a maddened world,
In shouts vociferous, blent with rage,
From broken dam, bedimmed with age.
A foreign link, of anchorage, strong
Entrenched within the realm of song ;
Attuned to years of needful strife,
In cadence with the past full rife :
With clamoring tongue, long may it last :
Defyer of vindictiye blast !
With suffrage granted to fulfill,
And hold imperious waves at will.
Conferring thus a bolder space,
And liberal depth of placid face ;—
Light sheltered by the upland break
Rejoicing in a fairy lake,
Where seemingly dropped from the skies
While smiles gave answer in surprise,
A dainty craft, of quaintly make,
Soft nestles where the ripples break.
While echoes spring from bark afloat,
Commingling with the wilder note;
And chorused swells the medley song
By joyous crew thus borne along,
Allured to skim the secret tide
And through the mystic realm to glide,
Where flinging quivers to the light,
The track is sinking out of sight,
‘Till lost within the sacred shade,
Of Glen Obscura’s sunless glade,
Where tufted fern and sedgegrass lave
Their fingers in the cheerless wave!
Where smiles ne’er greet the leaden flow
Or evening’s crimson lights the glow ;
Or silver cloud or lingering ray,
With mockery ;dints the shrouded wav,
While wierd enchantment rules supreme !
And waves its witchery o’er the stream.
And from the cavern’s dusky sheen,
The midnight elves steal forth unseen ;
Inveigled from their slumb’rons trance
To revel in the moonbeam dance!
Or in the sylvan shadows glim
Chase penciled ray, from limb to limb,
Or pallid creep, when downward prone,
To lichened trunk, to rock and stone.
Or emerald in a dewdrop spy
That glints the verge of northern sky.
Or down the glen, perchance, are bound
Where goblin crew, in rout are found
With bark afloat, to meet the call,
To “Council Chamber,” one and all.
The convocation met with cheers,
They sally forth, from hidden spheres ;—
From cranny, nook and covert sly ;
With eager haste full quickly fly ;—
In mystic conclave, thus convene.
All brownies of the charmed ravine!
With gnome and elfin from their lair,
And wood-nymph called to take the chair,
The times discussed, the laws franchised
Advanced ideas and creeds revised,
And feminine rights, perchance inflict,
Politic less, to interdict
With theories brief, or longer spun ;
No sophical attempt to shun.
All wrongs redressed and ire suppressed
With valedictions, homeward pressed.
Full nimbly now, and of one mind,—
Though snailish drone may lag behind
E’er break of day, and duly clanish ;
Naiads, elves and dryads, vanish.

Inspired, as for a new campaign,
“Sierrean Path,” in route regain,
With thoughts expectant, resting more
On promised wonders still in store :
Of elfin cave, and hanging woods
Of nature’s more bewildering moods.

The pathway marks the wooded slope,
Where shadows with each other cope,
And oaken-wreathed, each spur, and prow
Of Eagle Mountain’s furrowed brow!
While silence of the elfin track,
Brings dream-land and its memories back ;
‘Till wakened by the deep’ning sheen,
And spectral wildness of the scene,
In dusky tints and double-hued,
That thread their way through woven bough
The charm of wild ” Obscura’s” brow.
Full spectral ! ‘mid the gray light, dim,
Thechiseled path o’ershadowing grim,
Solemn and grave like “Banquo’s” ghost,
With frown incumbent at his post,
An ancient barrier, huge and gray,
Stands portal to the narrow way.
Ensconsed, and held by wizard time,
As footprints of his march sublime,
It speaks of ancient-time crusade,
And broader sweep of cavalcade,
With armies of invading force,
And deeper tread than heavy horse.

With every year of sun and cloud,
That weaves itself a snowy shroud,
By its successor, clothed in green,
The old man’s finger-marks are seen ;—
New pages clipt, asterisks drawn,
Sublime with each perennial morn.

Long since dismantled of its green,
A mast-like pine of polished sheen,
Looms from the huge, projective crest,
As risen ghost of haunted rest.
The sad and moaning voice that swept
The tuneful fibres, long has slept,
And music drawn from winds that brushed
The fur-like robe, have, too, been hushed.
Though gone the soulful, sighing moan,
The winds still lend a pitying tone—
Still comes the whispered, ghost-like sigh,
Like distant wailing, shrill and dry,

Where hemlocks sombre, looming stand,
With tortuous cliffs, on either hand—
To them a grand protective power,
To shield them in an evil hour ;
While envy only can behold,
And sigh to see them strong and bold.

With mantling folds, in phalanx tight—
A standing guard, obscures the sight,
And veil the silent, mystic flow,
O sylvan waters, deep below,
Where only sound, if caught at all.—
Repeats from distant waterfall.

‘Tis only here and there a snatch,
Or glimpse of rugged wall we catch,
As crumbling ruins, staid and old,
Encrusted deep with rust and mold,
For gambols of the elf or fay,
A safe retreat at noon of day.

Whence does it come, the light thrum, thrum,
As slackened note of fairy drum ?
A touch, most delicate of sound,
Vet lightly fills the space around,
And soothing falls in melting tone,
As music mingled with its own ;
Of elin ring, or welkin beat,
With mocking mysteries replete ;
Where trills and quavers ne’er abate,
And answering. echoes lingering wait
In light response, from hidden dells,
As voices strayed from silver bells,
Repeated from the dim-lit aisle
“Obscura’s” sheltered tide the while.

The narrow file of rocky stair,
Brings claim to slight regard of care,
Behooves the well poised step to keep,
Lest doomed to take the lover’s leap.
With alpine cut and downward slant,
No boding power to disenchant,
‘Though now the path, more stern and
Trends toward the level of the deep;
With cliffs receding farther, save,
Where channel passage speeds the way
And rests a span of bridge as
As that of elfin, fay or sprite,
And comes a light, capricious tread
O’er floor of more expansive spread,
As restless spirits, onward bound,
‘Till narrow door, or vent have found,
With “Sylvan Rapids” flash and dance,
Rewards that meet the downward glance

Within earth’s more expanded jaw:
On Chancel steps in awe now pause,
Where densely near the vaulted dome
Of sky looks down amid the gloom,
And wierd sublimity appalls,
Enchants the spirit and enthralls!
Where plateaus, circling in their form,
Incentive of “Athenian” charm,
Or by the water Genies made,
Here to enact their grand charade.
While joining hands in mazy dance,
Where star-reflecting pools enhance,
Make Merry round the nymphian bowl—
The charm of grand “Cathedral Hall.”
Well kept, and redolent of dust,
With vestige slight, of mold or must,
Forsooth, as if by fairy clan,
Or edict, or proscription ban,
Allured from nook, or rift of wall,
To tread of foot, at mystic call,
From changling note or spirit sigh,
Drawn from the canopy of sky,
And terraced floor, from nook to seam,
Are silvery with the morning gleam.

Coliseum ! immensely grand !
Where on heights declivic stand ;
Attendant trees, of huge dimensions,
Forming in their wild declensions
A mingled concourse of spectators,
When waves contest as gladiators.
A pageantry that rules the hour,
Like trampling armies’ ruthless power,
With rise and swell from glittering throng,
Swept with one ‘wildering voice along,
Till all the sleeping echoes wake,
And trumpet notes the ramparts shake !
While billows lave the banquet floor,
Until the carnival is o’er.
Then shouts tumultuous, all are stilled
That crevice, nook and cavern filled ;
While sunset’s light has fled the place,
And wings of night o’ershadow space.
In years now gone, though brief and few,
‘Twas e’er these walls an entrance knew,
Or praise had gone with trumpet tongue,
Proclaiming wonders still unsung,
Within their precints chanced to stray,
Beguilement of a summer day,
Two citizens inertly learned,
Their faces to the forest turned.
Congenial in their rambling mood,
Their steps led toward the upland wood.

Where nature reveled undisturbed,
Maintained her fickle ways uncurbed,
Unscathed, as when in stealthy fray
The fatal arrow sped its way,
And rifts of circling smoke arose,
From vale and wigwam in repose.

Where verdant hills of ‘wildering length
Hugh environs of folding strength,
True guardians of the chasm bed,
And to its charms devoutly wed,
Where staunch and strong, the oak and pine
In friendly conference intertwine,
And light the fountain’s gliding foot
Steals softly o’er the mossy root,
In welcome draught of beverage cool,
From jagged trunk a tempting pool ;
Where wary fox and wily hare
Receive their undiminished share ;
Or rights contest, as each are first,
And needs require to quench their thirst.

From whortle bush, but rarely seen—
Entrenched amid the stately green;
They pause to pluck the tempting mass
Of ripe, blue clusters as they pass,
Till startled by the bounding tread,
Of antlered deer from mossy bed,
That linger not with step so near—
Impulsive yield to pangs of fear.
The sheltered brake and brier pass through,
Where stinted falls the morning dew,
They pause upon projective crest—
Intuitive, their steps arrest;
To pierce the mysty veil of shade,
And catch a strain from lost cascade;
And by the solemn depths below,
The hidden mysteries vain would know,
Where objects gather undefined,
Though scenes so grand were ne’er divined.

No sapling tall, of willow bend,
No roots entwined, a ladder lend;
Nor earth’s imbedded, jutting stone
As stay for foot to rest upon.
By force of will, and cultured brain;
A victory daring, they attain;
Undaunted in attempt to brave,
Athenian wall, or goblin cave!
By means adroitly brought to aid,
Claim entrance to the barricade,
By ladder made of hempen cords,
To root projective, firm secured,
With boldly, rapid, giddy slide,
And due, make-shift, of rugged side,—
Beheld themselves upon the floor
Of walled expanse, without a door.

Awakened from their first surprise,
To which the weird-like scene gave rise,
With awe inspired, akin to fear,
By girding barriers, stern, severe!
Where save the friendly dome of blue,
The upper world is lost to view.
No sound to break the solemn still,
Unless from distant plaintive trill ;
And startled voices mounting high,
Claim echoes only in reply;
While mystery weighs with awe supreme
Like haunting- shadows in a dream !
So canny now, the space around,
It chance might be forbidden ground,
Or place where spectral shadows dwell,
And claim dominion by their spell !

Of life instinct, there seemed no trace—
Though here a victim of the chase;
A crushed and lifeless fawn was found
Hence driven by the huntsman’s hound.
To pause, was not without a thrill !
Where seethed the tears to linger still—
The tears that in the pitious chase,
Had coursed each other down its face,
And spoke of human foes so fell,
To slay them in their forest dell.
The shrunken stream, the walls ignore,
Allured to seek some hidden door :
Where erst the water Genii clan
Had dared the broadened floor to span.
Unbridged, unstaired, then as of yore
Thus limited, their brief explore.

The fount enchanting—”Nymphian Pool,”
A central basin dimpling cool,
Sends forth its wave of golden gleam—
In thanks to Sol’s descending beam,
Ungrudging, lent, though brief of stay
Within the battlements of gray.

In deeper shade an eddying pool,
Inscribed might be “Demonian bowl !”
With brow of sullen, dark despair,
It demon-like seems bent to snare,
Or grapple as a deadly foe,
Each sinking, struggling, wave below.

A huge reserve of concave room,
Surcharged with never ending- gloom,
Where ghostly shadows have their reign,
And awe pervades the dark domain!
A spot in keeping with the frown
That hovers ‘neath his worship’s crown,
And fitting place to cool his ire,
Whilst fleeing from tempestuous fire,
Should Satan or his demons fell,
Ere seek beneath rebellious swell,
That peace, so lost forever, save,
Amid the tang-le of the wave.
To direful terrors held concealed
The haunted thoughts, impulsive yield,
With ghostly fear or phantom dread,
Of clanking chain, or armored tread,
Or cumbrous, massive door, so near,
Could grate of rusty hinges hear;
And victim by his worship led,
Beneath the river’s inmost bed ;
To tread ‘with him the downward road,
To ” Hades” depths of dark abode.

The way retrace from angle right,
By airy steps, a triple flight ;
Twixt toppling walls of threat’ning lower,
Ascend the grand Cathedral Tower,
And meet with awe, the swelling- strain,
Unceasing in its wild refrain;
In praises ever swelling- higher
From answering cliff and chanting choir!

The theme rehearsed by stately pine,
In measured notes from lofty shrine ;
When with new force and subtle drift,
The storm king adds his timely gift,
Inspiring as he passes o’er,—
Infusing- strength to wild encore,
Where element finds ready tongue,
To fill the soul with praise unsung ;
And floods of inspiration raise,
To mingle with the deathless lays!

‘Neath pointed spear and peak of wall,
That garrison the “Naiad’s Hall,”
With Eagle Cliff, a lofty crest,
Whereon she loves to build her nest,
While utmost juttings to decry,
Would seem to claim an eagle’s eye.

More difficult the way to grope,
Where shadows with each other cope,
And half dislosed, new beauties lie,
‘Neath peep of foliage, painted sky ;
And like the vista of the mind,
An ante-room or passage find,
With door or window leading thither,
By way that seems to have no wither.
And now from varied charm of walls,
Enraptured greet the ” Rainbow Falls.”With entrance to an oblong room,
In radiance half, and half in gloom ?
Or mellowed by the noon-day beam,
While trembling in the solemn gleam,
Embodied in the mystic glide,
Of woven shadow, sheeted tide,
And softer sinks the wilder lay
In tuneful thanks for breadth of way.
In structure light, from side to side,
A thread-like bridge o’er laps the tide,
And through the angular juttings rude,
The charming “Matchless Scene” is viewed ;
Where low-voiced murmur, bum and thrill
And fingers with bent of will
Have carved and wrought with mystic tools,
And fashioned thus, the “Glen of Pools,”
Where marv’lous water-nymphs may sport,
Or deign to hold their sylvan court.

Light-hearted as a bonny bride,
A streamlet leaps the moss-clad side,
With smile and ripple dancing there,
Coquetish as the mountain air;—
Fair as “Genevra” in her bloom,
As bodeless of a destined doom.
Where soft beams weave the fitful tread,
And silver jets each tangled thread,
While tiny shrubs that meet the view,—
Bespangled seem like drops of dew.
As through the lichen spreads their gleam,
Like changes in a fitful dream ;
Beguiled into a diamond shower,
With diadem of leaf and flower,
From mossy shelf, in light cascade,
A veil of silver spray is made.

The way, though rugged, wary keep,
With jutting cliff and stair full steep,
To pause upon a spray-wet floor,
Look forth as from a cottage door,
Or deep-browed roof of gabled wall;
Low and “Helveie” in its fall !
By crowding faces, hemmed within,
Where blending- echoes weave their din,
And murmurs, like a summer rain,
Commingle with a deep refrain;
Or tinkling cadence, soft and mild,
As under-tones to measures wild!
And voices gentler in their chime
Blend with the “Triple Cascade’s” time.
A refuge seeming thus to wait
For fickle sun-tears to abate;
Hence, catch the new, invading ray,
Enchanting kiss the trembling spray;
Or gossamer-like vail, as light,—
Enriching with its new born light,
And as atoning, gifts infuse,
Its wondrous wealth of tinted hues,
Till every beam has found its way,
And seems contented thus to star,
A gilded arch above the gloom,
That veils the face of rippling foam !
A magic bridge, or naiad stair
From cliff to cliff exceeding fair;
Where fairies pearls and diamonds mould,
Their regal courts and levees hold,
And sparkling spray and bubbles chase ,
Full many a gay and laughing face.

Or with the dip of silver moon,
(If not disport with sunny noon,)
And comes the pallid, mystic light,
Amid the gloaming of the night;
Awakened from their brooding dreams,
In nooks half hidden by the streams,
Beneath the low hung walls of gray,—
Invisible by light of day,
Each vagrant elf, or drowsy sprite,
May skip as bird from briar light,
Across the shadow bridge to stray,
With song and glee till break of day.

‘Neath “Buttress Cliff’s” o’ershadowing frown,
The three-fold cascade courses down ;
And as the wayward sisters three
Give sweep of wild, wierd melody,
With mingled song and tireless leap,
A cadence rich, harmonious keep.
By dint of foothold now and then,
Defiant walls are scaled again,
Where long the foot of man ne’er trod,
And only nature worshipped God!
And barriers to the solitude
Remained unscarred by chiselings rude.

Hence, to the little “Bridge of Sighs,”
Symphonious with the broken cries,
Where gray light rests in toning sheen,
And lightly drapes the walls between,
As softened hues of moonbeans stray,
Or copings, with the break of day.

 Full statue-like and light of mould,
Confronted by a brow more bold,
With outward step, from sombre sheen,
“Cliff Mary” lifts her head serene,
With fadeless plume, of aerial birth,—
Portending more of heaven than earth;
More charming- with the crude deform,
Engendered by an insane storm:
Fair emblem of a fated life,
Enured to scenes of tragic strife,
Enchanting ‘mid the fitful glow,
And sinuous writhings deep below;
While vivifying with its life,
the scenes with grandeur rife!

While “Shadow Pool” returns askance,
Each ray-lit smile or brooding glance,
(Prone to its purpose to reflect,
In promptitude does not reject,)
Portraying grandeur without stint,
While faithful to the rock-moss tint,
Descriptive flatteries tame must seem
In praises of the “Artist’s Dream!”
No fairer spot in Elfin Land,
Or boudoir of a fairy band.

In deeper shades of gray, yet clear,
Each object, tint and hue appear,
With tiny bridge, detracting naught
From Nature’s works more grandly wrought.
With Narrow Pass, conflictive lent,
The walls give shape to sullen bent;
Where tides inspired may dig and delve,
Or lend their latent powers to shelve,
Refashion oft, by tempest’s might,
Or borrowed pick, from lofty height;
With skillful touches here and there,
Regard to beauty still a care,
By chiseled groove, or polished sweep,
Subservient to their troth to keep.

Where now a bolder spur may seem
An insane freak to bar the stream,
Importuned by vindictive tide,
Implacable to threat or chide.
Whence surges forth, with hollow sound,
From cloud-like caverns closing ’round,
Of awe inspiritive, when,
Hoarse anger sweeps the lion’s den,
While frowns give place to murky gloom,
Predictive of a vengeful doom!
And sunbeams fresh’ning powers ne’er fall
To break the spell of ” Demon’s Hall!”
Where awe pervades the stunning swell!
As voice from huge Neptunian shell:
And “Pluto” gives: arenaic roar,
With frenzied leap and mad encore!
While thundering down in baleful beat,
With gulf infuriate at its feet,
Where “Macbeth’s witches” fain might dwell,
With incantation, charm and spell!
Around the cauldron dance and sing,
“Like elves and fairies in a ring.”

No purpose ours to stem or curb,
Or secrets of this realm disturb;
Where madness fills each elfin strain
Of din. and discord’s endless reign,
Or e’en dispute their laws or code,
Should demons make it their abode;
Or hidden chamber to explore,
The weird enchantments fain ignore;
Nor vainly tarry for replies,
To whence the coast of darkness lies,
Or pause to question now the war,
That opens to the break of day.
By ready aid and firm support,
The spiral stairway eager court;
Whilst daring scarce a backward glance,
Upon the pandemonium dance,
Where fancy paints amid the din,
The demon howl and satyr grin,
With grimace, charm and mingled hate
As if in parlance mad, await
With subtle spell to star the sense,
And thus, unknowing how, or whence,
While verging on the dire abyss
The fated step be lured to miss.

Absolved from mad Plutonian way,
With welcome peep of outward day,
Where sifted rays of gilded light,
Drive forth conflictive hues of night;
While quivers full of golden gleam,
Find entrance to each nook and seam;
And stein and leaflet smile with glee,
Whilst looking down from stem and tree—
Erom broken arch, from crown and stone
From walls, like ruins, overgrown;
Inspiring as they thread their way
From tasselled plume to basin gray.
Where “Casket Pool’s” rewarding glint,
In quaintly tones of Orient tint,
Compensate to the friendly rill
For offerings from the bended hill;
Or rivulet, with skirling tread,
By sudden inspiration led ;
In light disdain of gray moss fringes,
Of waxen cups and rubied tinges;
With trembling woodland’s prompt alarm.
Triumphant yield the Nymphian charm,
In trust consign the trophied boon,
To grasp the kindling smiles of noon.
A treasure-cup of ample mould,
To revel in autumnal gold,
Usurp by stealth and russet gleam,
When arrows shoot athwart the stream.
And Naiads, for their gifts bestow,
The dapple sheens that gleam and glow;
While Dryads, of conducive thought,
An emerald setting each hath wrought.

A warding sentinel at his post,
Undaunted meets the clamoring host ;
When willful sweep and vengeful wave,
Find utterance in combative lave ;
And bows his stern Herculean head,
O’er ” Neptune’s Grotto” basin bed.
Where terrace-winged, the pearly leap
Gives monotone to lighter sweep,
(From whence the dim old forest smiles,
And gloams in turn through leafy isles,)
Through mazy woodland carves its way,
To rest beneath the altar’s gray,
Or lured to pause within the curve
Of “Fairy Pool” a charmed reserve,
With face upturned to meet the glance,
Or catch the netted sunbeams dance,
While cannoned hall and templed floor,
And skyward cliff, cease to explore;
Or fairy nook, or rift to scan—
Born mysteries of the mythic clan,
Must rest embraced with every hue,
As scenes that sanction no adieu:
Still potent with their spell beyond,
As stroke from the enchanter’s wand!
To flood with luminating ray,
Whilee homage to their courts we pay.

With rift of sky, and glint of spray,
Enchanting in reverse of way;
Still grand, in retrospective view,
And ever wondrous, seen anew!
With lowering rock, and water’s bed,
Disturbed not by the fragile tread,
Regain “Obscura’s” mantling crest,
And “Mountain House,” the tourist’s rest.

By alpine cut, inspired anew,
And “Indian Trail” is ope’d to view
(Though treasured up, in chapters brief,
Unfolding still a charming leaf;)
Where spicy floats the air around,
From banks with twisted laurels crowned;
And beaded fern, with fluted finger,
Pointing skyward bids us linger ;
Where sheltered by the silver birch,
The clambering tea shrub finds its perch;
With wayward zephyrs to beguile,
And win its odorous breath and smile.
Accepting, as we muse along,
The light adieu from cataract’s song;
Or faint attune from distant lay,
Entrancing in its softer play.

Now verging on the mountain’s ledge,
Overlook the precipice’s yawning edge!
Full “Alpine” in its airy flight,
And swing of rock-projective height;
Protected by a light hand-rail,
Where once was naught but Indian trail.
And up the wooded, wild ascent,
With quickened pulse to footsteps lent,
The chieftain from his sports returned,
To where the sheltered camp-fire burned,
Mid vapored breeze his princess seeks
Where rests its cool wing- on her cheeks,
Who proudly holds his early love,
With faith as pure as faith above,
Whose heart beats with the quick rebound
Of ringing shouts, from rocks around,
Reverberating, rich and deep,
From murky cave and wooded steep.
The waters now have ceased their song,
And move more peacefully along,
To wend the valley with their roll,
In quietude that soothes the soul.
And “Glenwood” gives its sorrowing shade,
With lightly lift of upland glade;
Where softer falls the wayworn tread,
Should step less light disturb the dead,
Or quiet of the home of those
Now resting in their deep repose.
And hushed the words that fall to-day,
As fell they when, just passed away.
Where cherished flowerets spread their bloom
With petals resting on the tomb,
While o’er the lightly swarded green
The rock-pink weaves its gladdening sheen,
And pine and fir sweet promise bring,
As here their evening requiems sing,
And drops of dew, and odors shed,
From outstretched branches overhead.
The wayside asters, purple, blue,
And golden-rod, of richest hue,
With mountain daisies’ slender stem,
The wilder walks and borders hem,
And paths beneath the spreading bough
To “View Inspire” at summit brow.

Unfolding like a painted scroll,
That hues more deep with half unroll;
Supernal, with the grand define,
Of bended dome and margin line;
More realistic while it seems,
A rival to “Arcadia’s Dreams.”

From western range to eastern break,
The far-spread scene, now pause to take;
Where wake the first glad beams of day,
Where last the dying sunset lay;
As lovely as “Elysian” vales,
Nor wanting in historic tales ;
Where, underneath the summer sky,
Soft beams like threads of silver lie;
And “Seneca” sheens the valley wide,
And paints it with reflective tide;
Where silver ripples have their reach,
And waves break harmless on the beach,
From dreamy depths of misty sky,
Awake the pebbles with their sigh;
Or fickle zephyrs spread their wings,
And ruder breath its conquest brings;
And with the high winds in their rest,
The swan rests there her snowy breast.

Transcendent, ‘neath the open day,
When fleecy clouds are wont to stray,
Or thread their way through limpid light,
Like white-robed spirits in their flight;
Seraphic winged, and azure shrined,
No lurking of a frown behind:
Or wandering spectres, hither fled,
With wayward glance, and faltering tread,
Or hapless waif who seeks afar,
For guiding gleam of northern star,—
As riven banks of shifting snow,
Cleft by the wind, no compass know,
Repeative ‘neath the mantling blue,
In pictured faces over true;
While purpling dome draws still more near,
And silver wings shrink back with fear
In limitless and lost define,
As thoughts that know no border line.
And waning day, with lenient smile,
Brings tokens of approach the while;
A rosier sense of life instills,
In tenderer tone, its mission fills,
While rifts of crimson, grow less shie,
To meet the glow of evening sky.
Bright children of ethereal blue,
More beautiful, arrayed anew,
As angels gorgeous, gayly drest,
For wings to Heaven, sorely prest;
With wistful glance through mazy sheen,
Till fades away the phantom scene,
And hence, the sun’s alluring beat
Gives pictured hill-tops in retreat.

With rock-bound shore, and woven shade,
And bounding line of mountain glade,
With flecks of field and wooded land,
Reflected back on either hand;
Eulivened by the rural scene,
Of farm-house, hidden half in green,
While neath the bright’ning orb of day,
Points heavenward a spire or ray. A
nd now a dip of sombre hollow,
With sunlight scenery, knolls that follow;
And ever-tumbling gushing rills
The melody of tinted hills;—
Their hidden haunt full well may know,
Where green the copsy -woodlands grow.
Till lower dips the azure bow,
To mingle with the leaden glow,
And in the hazy distance sink
The cliff-walls to the waters brink.

And with the fascinated gaze,
Still lingering with the misty haze,
Recall to mind the fated travel,
The mystic chain would fain unravel ;
Why solemn, silent, trackless, save
In soft-spun threads of silver wave,
In aspect sad, and more forlorn,
Than that by Hebrew trav’ler borne,
The “Wandering Jew” is doomed to make
The trackless pathway of the lake !
What magic binds him to the deep?
Is it some charm-bound spell to keep?
Nay, pedestalled o’er dark ravine,
Looked he abroad upon the scene ;
The tragic, foul and sad event,
That to the darkened water lent,
The echo, mournful, sounding far,
O’er deep reflect of midnight star;
The time prolonged, and solemn knell,
Reiterate from rock and dell,
A funeral requiem of years,
Recorded in the shadowy spheres.

From legendary charm and spell,
From where the ghostly shadows dwell,
The deeper depths of hues passed o’er,
Enroute to meet the headland shore;
Where, like a white-winged thing of life,
Or messenger with purpose rife,
Full potent with her inward sweep,
Predestinated trust to keep,
A steamer parts the light rifts through,
While flecks of foam the sunbeams sue,
With banners to the breeze unfurled,
The yielding waves her conquered world.
To wild and strange enchantments bound,
Full oft her happy freight are found ;
With discard of the dust and heat,
For sylvan shades and cool retreat ;
To tread imperial halls sublime,
Where nature laughs in scorn of time.

At anchor, peaceful, lightly moored,
From gambols of the waves secured,
Hemmed by a slender thread of pier,
Another idles still more near :
Dainty, light, of dazzling sheen,
Contrasting with the sombre green
Of stately elms that friendly reach
Their chain of shadows on the beach.
Huge oracles of towering strength,
(Where Seneca’s basin finds her length.)
In watchful grandeur, standing guard,
With outstretched arms, as if to ward
Presumptuous waves too eager found,
That speak their scorn, with light rebound;
While north winds murmur in restraint,
And leaves give voice to sad complaint,
And frowns grow darker with the flow,
And the “thus far, no farther go,”
Within your pebbled bed be stayed,
Content with sylvan barricade.

With rural reach of fertile plain,
Where rival villas have their reign,
Half hidden in the mantling green,
Aspiring lift their bright’ning sheen,
With glittering spire and dome ablaze,
And gleams of light from templed rays.
Enshrined, as loath to quit the spot—
Their stately presence be forgot—
The elm and walnut last to leave,
Their branches in communion weave,
With reverential heads, sublime,
Defy the cruel shocks of time,
Assert by right their native realm,
Unfortified maintain their helm,
The past rehearse, in reverent tone,
When sobbing winds around them moan.
Though thinned in ranks, their numbers brief,
Where winds once stirred the forest leaf,
Held sacred in their places now,
Each tasseled plume and nodding bough,
With generous flood of welcome shade,
Far o’er the grateful wayside laid.

With charmed reflex of sunset slope,
And light uplift of scenic scope,
Where art accepts a fitting shrine,
And blends its beauty with the pine,
Where palace, tower and turret rise,
As ‘neath “Italy’s” lighted skies,
And clustered evergreens are still
The glory of the bended hill,
Enlivening with their lustrous glow,
Through chilling frosts and winter’s snow,
Their odorous plumes of towering height,
Prerogative of worth and right,
Their healing breath a mine of wealth,
When comes the worn and fading health
To drink new life beneath their shade,
With strength renewed ‘mid forest glade.

The varying charms of woven wreath
“Fair Seneca’s” sacred waves bequeath,
And o’er its face their luster shed;
Superb, the crowning of its head !