LINES

WRITTEN AT

THE COHOS, OR FALLS OF THE MOHAWK RIVER*.

GIA ERA IN LOCO OVE S'UDIA 'L RIMBOMBO

DELL' ACQUA...

Dante.

FROM rise of morn till set of sun
I've seen the mighty Mohawk run,
And as I mark'd the woods of pine
Along his mirror darkly shine,

* There is a dreary and savage character in the country immediately about these Falls, which is much more in harmony with the wildness of such a scene, than the cultivated lands in the neighbourhood of Niagara. See the drawing of them in Mr. Weld's book. According to him, the perpendicular height of the Cohos Fall is fifty feet; but the Marquis de Chastellux makes it seventy-six.

Like tall and gloomy forms that pass
Before the wizard's midnight glass;

And as I view'd the hurrying pace

With which he ran his turbid race,

Rushing, alike untir'd and wild

Through shades that frown'd and flowers that smil'd,

Flying by every green recess

That woo'd him to its calm caress,

Yet, sometimes turning with the wind,
As if to leave one look behind!

Oh! I have thought, and thinking sigh'd-
How like to thee, thou restless tide!
May be the lot, the life of him,

Who roams along thy water's brim!
Through what alternate shades of woe,
And flowers of joy my path may go!
How many an humble, still retreat
May rise to court my weary feet,

The fine rainbow, which is continually forming and dissolving, as the spray rises into the light of the sun, is perhaps the most interesting beauty which these wonderful cataracts exhibit,

While still pursuing, still unblest,
I wander on, nor dare to rest!
But, urgent as the doom that calls
Thy water to its destin'd falls,
I see the world's bewildering force
Hurry my heart's devoted course
From lapse to lapse, till life be done,
And the lost current cease to run!
Oh, may my falls be bright as thine!
May heaven's forgiving rainbow shine
Upon the mist that circles me,
As soft, as now it hangs o'er thee!

CLORIS AND FANNY.

CLORIS! if I were Persia's king,

I'd make my graceful queen of thee; While FANNY, wild and artless thing, Should but thy humble handmaid be.

There is but one objection in it-
That, verily, I'm much afraid

I should, in some unlucky minute,

Forsake the mistress for the maid!

MISS

TO

WITH Woman's form and woman's tricks So much of man you seem to mix,

I

One knows not where to take you: pray you, if 'tis not too far,

Go, ask of Nature which you are,
Or what she meant to make you.

Yet stay-you need not take the painsWith neither beauty, youth, nor brains For man or maid's desiring;

Pert as female, fool as male,

As boy too green, as girl too stale-
The thing's not worth enquiring!