"There's nothing great or bright, thou glorious Fall! Thou mayest not to the fancy's sense recall. The thunder-riven cloud, the lightning's leap, The stirring of the chambers of the deep; Earth's emerald green and many tinted dyes, The fleecy whiteness of the upper skies; The tread of armies thickening as they come. The boom of cannon and the beat of drum; The brow of beauty and the form of grace, The passion and the prowess of our race; The song of Homer in its loftiest hour, The unresisted sweep of human power; Britannia's trident on the azure sea, America's young shout of Liberty! Oh! may the waves which madden in thy deep _There_ spend their rage nor climb the encircling steep; And till the conflict of thy surges cease The nations on thy banks repose in peace." The extracts below are from a poem written after a visit to the Falls by José Maria Heredia, and translated from the Spanish by William Cullen Bryant: "NIAGARA. "Tremendous torrent! for an instant hush The terrors of thy voice, and cast aside Those wide involving shadows, that my eyes May see the fearful beauty of thy face! * * * * * "Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves Grow broken 'midst the rocks; thy current then Shoots onward like the irresistible course Of destiny. Ah, terribly they rage,-- The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain Grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze Upon the hurrying waters; and my sight Vainly would follow, as toward the verge Sweeps the wide torrent. Waves innumerable Meet there and madden,--waves innumerable Urge on and overtake the waves before, And disappear in thunder and in foam. "They reach, they leap the barrier,--the abyss Swallows insatiable the sinking waves. A thousand rainbows arch them, and woods Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock Shatters to vapor the descending sheets. A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves The mighty pyramid of circling mist To heaven. * * * * What seeks my restless eye? Why are not here, About the jaws of this abyss, the palms,-- Ah, the delicious palms,--that on the plains Of my own native Cuba spring and spread Their thickly foliaged summits to the sun, And, in the breathings of the ocean air Wave soft beneath the heaven's unspotted blue? "But no, Niagara,--thy forest pines Are fitter coronal for thee. The palm, The effeminate myrtle and pale rose may grow In gardens and give out their fragrance there, Unmanning him who breathes it. Thine it is To do a nobler office. Generous minds Behold thee, and are moved and learn to rise Above earth's frivolous pleasures; they partake Thy grandeur at the utterance of thy name.