Classic Poem

Behold the river, wide, respiring, vast,
Swelling and falling, answering to the main.
Here rise and sink the multitudinous ships,
Swaying in slumberous ease, where every flag
Known to a Christian sky salutes the air.
How the brown cordage like a net-work spreads,
A monster web entangling leafless pines!
From this same wharf, down dropping with the tide,
Went Arthur, when he bade his last adieu—
While the great bay, as usherer to the sea,
Unto the ocean's awful presence led—
There stands the maid in secret musing held,
While from the charmed fountains of her soul
The longing tear upwells. The sun descends;
And like a startling meteor in the sky,
The whizzing rocket streaks the twilight air,
And curving up the azure deep afar,
Explodes with muffled sound, and lights the eve
With momentary stars of various hue.
In swift succession how they soar and burst,
Answered from all the quarters of the town,
Till oft the sky is full of falling lights;
As on that memorable autumn night,
When rained the heavens a thick meteoric shower,
Puzzling the wise astronomers at watch,
And shaking many a sturdy soul with fear,
Till superstition, with affrighted voice,
Proclaimed the day of doom. From you green isle
Which like a war-ship on the water lies,
The arrowy signals chiefly fly; while come
The joyous habitants and crowd the wharves,
The ships, the ferries, barges and batteaux,
And skiffs that glide between, while every house
From base to roof o'erflows. And now the night,
While every face unto the island looks,
Falls deeply down; and all the curious stars
People the dark and crowding, group o'er group,
Gaze from the shadowy terraces of heaven,
And wonder at the fires that mock their light.
Hark, the loud rattle, like artillery!
And note the phantom lustre on each face,
Swift changing through the iris scale of hues,
Most strange and beautiful, thrown from yon wheel
Which from its flails of fire flings the light sparks
Like chaff upon the air, with whirrings loud,
While admiration flies from face to face.
Nor this alone; wheel after wheel is fired,
Whirling continuous, discharging lights
Innumerous as summer dust; until
Behold the flaming chariot appears,
A swift triumphal car ablaze with gems,
And flying through a crowd of welcoming roses,
Where Liberty a starry goddess rides,
While o'er her head her favourite eagle sails
On guardian wings of fire. And suddenly
A temple lifts its constellated front,
Swinging its great arch, drawn in blazing lines,
Athwart the dark with architecture strange,
Inspiring, grand; as if the stars of heaven
Should sweep together, clustering into form,
To show the world the dome where Freedom dwells
And lo! the glorious vision in the tide
Inverted hangs in wavering lines of light:
Such is the pyrotechnist's art. And now
The sky vibrates with the prolonged applause;
The lights die out; the night resumes its sway,
While peace and silence close the festive gates.
Olivia, weary, to her pillow strange
Resigns her cheek, while through her wakeful brain
The visions of the day, in clear review,
Pass one by one, and fright the wings of sleep.
Hour after hour, the watchman's sounding tread
And solemn voice alarm the sinking lid,
And wake the thought afresh; till, presently,
The whirling rattle and the startling cry
Of “fire!” too frequent heard, disturb the town,
Breaking the charm of midnight; while reply,
From spire and tower, the wild and direful bells,
Directing with their strokes the engines' course,
Which now fly thundering to assail the blaze,
And soon to conquer. Rising on the sky,
Destruction's banner, like a boreal light,
Dilates and brightens till the maiden's room,
Though safe, is full of splendour like a noon
She hears the frequent heavy brakes descend,
Mingled with voices and with hurrying feet,
Till gradually the drowned flame submits,
While slowly dies the hue from out her chamber.
And now once more the quiet, like a bird
Untimely startled from its rest, refolds
Its wings, and drops through visions into sleep.