What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Abbot afterwards ages American Falls American side appearance awful bank Bath Battle beautiful boat Buffalo built Canada Canada side canoe carried cataract Cave centre cliff course cross deep descend edge escarpment Falls of Niagara farther feel feet high feet wide fell flood flows foot formation gaze Goat Island ground head height Horse Horse-Shoe hour House hundred hurried Indian interest Lake Erie Lake Ontario land leap length limestone looking magnificent masses miles mist named night object opposite pass plunge portion position precipice present Prospect Queenston rapids reach recede remains river roar sandstone scene seems seen shore short distance side Sisters spray stairs stand strata stream SUSPENSION BRIDGE Table Rock taken Terrapin thee thick thundering Tower town trees village visited Whirlpool whole yards
Page 13 - Peace of mind ; tranquillity ; calm recollections of the dead ; Great thoughts of eternal rest and happiness ; nothing of gloom or terror. Niagara was at once stamped upon my heart, an image of Beauty ; to remain there, changeless and indelible, until its pulses cease to beat for ever.
Page 13 - Oh, how the strife and trouble of daily life receded from my view, and lessened in the distance, during the ten memorable days we passed on that Enchanted Ground! What voices spoke from out the thundering water; what faces, faded from the earth, looked out upon me from its gleaming depths; what Heavenly promise glistened in those angels...
Page 60 - And hung his bow upon thine awful front; And spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake, The sound of many waters ; and had bade Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, And notch His centuries in the eternal rocks.
Page 60 - The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain While I look upward to thee. It would seem As if God poured thee from his hollow hand, . . And hung his bow upon thy awful front, And spoke in that loud voice which seemed to him Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake The "sound of many waters," and had bade Thy flood to chronicle the ages back And notch his centuries in the eternal rocks.
Page 59 - Hail! Sovereign of the World of Floods, whose majesty and might First dazzles — then enraptures — then o'erawes the aching sight : The pomp of kings and emperors, in every clime and zone, Grows dim before the splendour of thy glorious watery throne.
Page 59 - Tis meet for them, To touch thy garment's hem, and lightly stir The snowy leaflets of thy vapor-wreath, For they may sport unharmed amid the cloud, Or listen at the echoing gate of heaven, Without reproof. But as for us, it seems Scarce lawful, with our broken tones, to speak Familiarly of thee. Methinks, to tint Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, Or woo thee to the tablet of a song, Were profanation. Thou dost make the soul A wondering witness of thy majesty, But as it presses with delirious...
Page 14 - I think in every quiet season now, still do those waters roll and leap, and roar and tumble, all day long ; still are the rainbows spanning them, a hundred feet below. Still, when the sun is on them, do they shine and glow like molten gold. Still, when the day is gloomy, do they fall like snow, or seem to crumble away like the front of a great chalk cliff, or roll down the rock like dense white smoke. But always does the mighty stream appear to die as it comes down, and always from its unfathomable...
Page 59 - God ! From this primeval altar — the green and virgin sod — The humble homage that my soul in gratitude would pay To Thee ! whose shield has guarded me through all my wandering way.
Page 60 - Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we That hear the question of that voice sublime ? O, what are all the notes that ever rung From war's vain trumpet by thy thundering side ? Yea, what is all the riot man can make In his short life to thy unceasing roar ? And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to HIM Who drowned a world and heaped the waters far Above its loftiest mountains ? — a light wave That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might.
Page 35 - Saw the first wreath of glory that enthron'd thy infant brow. And from that hour to this, in which I gaze upon thy stream, From age to age — in winter's frost, or summer's sultry beam — By day, by night — without a pause — thy waves, with loud acclaim, In ceaseless sounds, have still proclaimed the Great Eternal's name.