To a Friend Dwellers at home, in indolence and ease, How deep their debt, to those that roam the seas, Or cross the lands, in quest of every art That science, knowledge, pity can impart To help mankind, or guild the lettered page The bold discoverers of every age. This spirit—in thy breast the ardent guide To seek new lands, and wastes as yet untried Where none but hunters trod the field before Unveiled the grandeur of Superior’s show Where nature’s forms in varied shape and guise Break on the view, with wonder and surprise. Not least, among those forms, the traveller’s tale, These pillared rocks and castle pomps prevail Standing, like some vast ruin of the plain, Where ancient victims by their priests were slain But far more wondrous,—for the fair design No architect drew out, with measured line ‘Twas nature’s wildest flower, that graved the Rock, The waves’ loud fury, and the tempest’s shock Yet all that arts can do, here frowning shine, In mimic pride, and grandeur of design. The simple Indian, as the work he spies, Looks up to nature’s God above the skies And though, his lot be rugged wild and dear, Yet owns the ruling power with soul sincere, Not as where, Asia’s piles of marble high, For idol gods the beast was doomed to die, But, guided by a purer-led surprise, Points to the great good sovreign of the skies And thinks the power that built the upper sphere, Hath left but traces of his fingers here.
On the Doric Rock, Lake Superior