Bow down, ye Alleghenies, and weep o'er thousands slain, Who yesterday were all intent this present world to gain. Their active brain is sleeping, their busy hands are still, Bright hopes are blasted in an hour, ambitions cease to thrill; Their mansions, with their bodies, the flood has borne away-- The rich and poor together rest till resurrection day. Now leap for joy, ye mountains, for all is not in vain! For as it was in Noah's flood, it ever will remain! God cares for those who love Him; He holds them in His hand, And wind and wave obey His will, and rest at His command; Some sank beneath the freshet, and now with others lie, But God prepared another ark to bear their souls on high. See, floating with the wreckage, borne onward by the tide, A loving mother with her babe close sheltered at her side; One hand has grasped a rafter, the other guards her child; Oh, how she pleads with God and man in accents loud and wild! Men hear but give no answer, no human hand can save; Her voice, alas, is hushed in death by the relentless wave; But God has heard her pleading, and now His angel bears Their deathless souls to dwell with Him, where free from toils and cares, Her voice rings out in gladness the notes of that blest psalm The prophet heard the elders sing, of "Moses and the Lamb." And see this lovely maiden, a mother's hope and pride, The sunbeam of a Christian home, and the affianced bride Of one who loved her dearly, and loved her not in vain, For he had won a loyal heart, and hand without a stain; But he lies 'neath the billows, and she will join him soon. Hark! hark! she sings in accents sweet, to old familiar tune! "_Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly_," etc. Her prayer, also, is answered, for see, the roof is bare! The current swept the slippery raft, the maiden is not there! An angel band descended, her lover led the way, And now she joins her loved and lost in realms of endless day! Look down, ye Alleghenies, from your colossal heights, And witness an heroic deed, bright gleam 'midst horrid sights. See, _Periton_ has mounted his famous large bay steed, And flies, not to the mountains, but at his greatest speed He gallops down the valley, to warn of pending fate, And cries aloud, "Flee for your lives! flee, ere it be too late! The Conemaugh dam is broken, destruction comes apace! Leave all and to the mountains flee; leave all and win the race!" Each creek becomes a river, each pool a little sea, The tidal wave comes rushing on, men know not where to flee, But on he rides, still shouting, as angels did of old, "Flee! Flee ye to the mountain! Flee! forsake your homes and gold!" His horse now shares his spirit, and leaps each swollen stream. With panting flanks and nostrils wide, and breath like scalding steam, He dashes down the roadway, and fairly seems to fly, Obedient to his rider's rein, resolved to do or die.