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The beautiful locality which inspired the: following verses may be familiar to the reader. For the benefit of the uninitiated, however, it may be stated that it is situated in Ontario county, New York, directly on the Great Western Railroad, and upon the lovely lake which is apostrophized at the close of the poem.
- BRIGHT spot! where nature wears her loveliest dress,
- Gladdening thy scenery with her gracious smiles,
- Thine image haunts my hours of idleness,
- And cheers my lonely heart: as ocean's isles,
- Far from the main, keep solitary watch
- Upon the watery expanse, to catch
- The morning glances of the emerging sun,
- And shine beneath his radiance; so I shun
- The night of sadness by the cheering light
- That memory of thy scenes pours on my mental sight.
- Some Alpine wanderer, who had stood amazed
- At Switzerland's rude chart of hill and dell,
- Whose eye, delighted with the views, had gazed
- On her pure lake, until the rapturous swell
- Of admiration dwelt upon his tongue,
- Gave thee thy name, Geneva; memory hung
- That image in his heart, and, as he passed
- The Atlantic wave, and o'er thy beauty cast
- A glance of joy, he traced the likeness plain,
- And fancied Europe's fairest scenery o'er again.
- Thy lake is beautiful, beside its shore
- My lingering steps have borne me idly on;
- Each change that slowly passed its beauties o'er
- Heightening the glory of the scene just gone:
- The morning beams aslant upon the wave,
- Woke rippling music -- as the statue gave
- Its melody of old to day's first breath,
- Hushed else in silence like the pause of death --
- Amid that symphony, so low and calm,
- Rung out the numbers of my solemn morning psalm.
- The day revealed new mysteries; on high
- The sun looked out with joy upon the flood,
- To see beneath the hills another sky,
- As bright and cloudless as the path he trod;
- O'er its pure surface all his radiance poured,
- A stream of flashing gold, like miser's hoard;
- Each burning ray each watery drop inflamed,
- Till Sacramento's richest mines were shamed
- By the effulgence, and the dazzled sight
- Turned to the greenwood shade to seek a milder light.
- And oft, when distant clouds obscured the sun,
- And all around was dark, a glory beamed
- Behind the veil, and on the mirror shone;
- A track of brightest radiance, that seemed;
- Some palsied lightning resting on its way,
- Compelled, by strange command of Heaven, to stay:
- So, in the olden time, the smile of God
- Illumined the brow of martyrs, as they trod
- Their gloomy path, and crowned their cross with light,
- Though persecution's darkness hid its source from sight,.
- When rising fogs hung lazily around,
- Unwilling to ascend, and keenest eye
- Could naught discern within the horizon's bound,
- But hither shore, and sea, and darkened sky,
- Then. a young ocean seemed that beauteous lake;
- And, as the winds arose in wrath, to shake
- The skirting forest and heap up the waves,
- Called by the whirlwind from their hidden caves,
- And snow-crowned peaks were dancing on the flood,
- Atlantic's stormy sea before my vision stood!
- Again, the tempest hushed by His command
- Who quelled the rage of stormy Galilee,
- The glorious bow of promise, from the sand
- Upspringing, stretches o'er the tranquil sea;
- And as the waters pass beneath its arch,
- Like Roman captives on their solemn march
- Beneath the yoke, known thus as humble slaves,
- Each conquered billow now but gently laves
- The pebbled share, afraid to guise its voice
- In angry pride, or in its tempest strength rejoice.
- Oft have I seen the summer clouds, at eve,
- Hang o'er the crystal surface with delight,
- Enchanted with the view, and loath to leave
- A spot so beautiful, a scene so bright.
- As gentle doves, that rest upon the wing
- Above some clear, secluded forest spring,
- To view their beauty and each pinion plume,
- And then their weary, distant flight resume
- So did these mighty storm-birds hover o'er
- The placid lake, seeking a nest upon its shore.
- At eventide, when darkening shallows fall,
- To hide all beauty from the unwearied eye,
- Still comes n beam from fur upon the pall;
- Like thread of silver, wrought most cunningly
- Upon a garment of the raven dye,
- So the pale moonbeams on the waters lie:
- Or else the silent stars flash on the scene
- The blazing torchlights of Night's lovely queen;
- But neither moon nor star, in all their round,
- So fair a view in any other land has found.
- And when all light from heaven has been withdrawn,
- And night without a star held sway supreme,
- Then the dim fisher's light has come and gone,
- Like passing splendors of a pleasing dream,--
- Now dancing o'er the wave, now lost to view,
- Now o'er the roughening lake it streams anew,--
- While the sweet bugle-echo comes from far,
- Its loudest notes, the dreadful cry of war,
- All softened by the murmurs of the sea,
- Like gentle love-songs seem a plaintive melody.
- Proud Seneca! the traveler's searching eye
- Has oft, enraptured, gazed upon thy breast,
- And oft the tones of sweetest minstrelsy,
- The stranger-poet's richest love behest,
- Have swept across thy bosom, as thy praise
- Thrilled on his harp-strings; each a tribute pays
- Of boundless admiration, as he views
- Thy shore and wave of ever changing hues;
- And many a wanderer, lured by love of thee,
- Has built his rustic cot beside thy beauteous sea.
- And should I not, indeed, ungrateful prove,
- Did memory of these beauties e'er depart?
- Or did remembrance ever fail to move,
- In offerings of love, my thankful heart?
- Within the classic halls upon thy shore"
- Intent upon the search for buried lore,
- Thee have I studied more than chart or book,
- And felt each change thy beating surface took;
- And thus, in those returnless, youthful days,
- I framed this sonnet to declare thy worthy praise: --
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