The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1838-11-14

Away Ger rock and mountain-Side;
Above our heads the pine-tree's Dough
With pearls OF ice is bending now;
While, pinioned fast beneath our feet,
The broom is bound with silyery sleet
Press on press on! the noAh-lights shroud,
Beams DER our path like lsrael's cloud,
And steadily our patient team
Trace through the gloom its phantom CLEAN:
Aiar The ring of springing feet ......
Is heard in distant forest beat,s
While carriboo and dun-deer bound
Across our way with startling sound.
Huzza behold the morning break
Around the night, on wonder lake
Less fearful echoes now our tread, ..~
Less ominous those hemlocks shed
Above our path their curtaind gloom,
Like Egypt's dark and column'd tomb;
Cheer up! cheer up the suns warm ray
Shall pierce our forest cloud to-day;
All night our cautious course has been
Through springing shafts and arches green,
With more OF majesty than Rome
Can boast in her high-altar'd dome,
With more of grace than Greece fair isles
E'er fashioned in their sculptured piles.
The Seasons here conspiring prest,
To form the bower each loved the best;
Pale Spring, upon her messy bed,
In slumber droops her weary head. ..,
Where soft green cedars DER her wave, 49, .s.'
And murmuring founts her low couch lave.
Then Summer smiles the budding leaf
Is borne upon her zephyr BREATH
And Spring, disturbed by nesting flowers,
Flies off before the joyous hours,
Bright Autumn, then, TO grace her bower,
Changes the hue of leaf and flower;
Her soft, rich form would scarce be seen
Clothed with these shades of sullen green;
And gaudily she decks her bed
With crimson leaf and nowerets red
Now winter comes, wild, boisterous sire
He snached the curtan'd robes in ire,
Which autumn round her bower had hung,
And to the winds their glories flung.
He said, Unto this bower of mine,
Give the dark robing Of the pine;
III wreath their boughs with pearls again,
And bind them with diamond chainp
How gloriously these arches pour,
. rrhsir wild, rich food of grandeur DER
! ne pure unsulHed, snoW-white wreath
Which Winters hand hath thrown benea,b
And not whispering murmur calls :
In echoes through these gorgeous halls,
To break the soft, low symphony
OF breathing winds in lofty tree
Onward, still onward, we have pressed,
Mid scenes with solemn beauty dressed;
And hard We'll strive to pitch our camp
This night beneath Katadin's Lampt
The suns last lingering rays have shed
Their glory round the mountains head,
And some faint CLEANS Of fleeing day
Above you columnd arches play;
Where that calm, soft, mysterious light,
Beams pure and still from yonder height.
Hail mighty shade again we've preSt
Our couch beneath thine awful rest;
But no glad voice to thee we bring,
No welcome greetS our wandering;
Thy proudest pines are hurled beneath
The woodmaD's axe, like falling leaf;
We triumph DER thy DIRE ad array,
And ope thy temples to the day.
Hail to thy power, twice-shadowed Night!
How awfully thy dreamy flight
Recalls the spirits of the past,
With dim forms hov'ring on the blast;
While snow-crowned hemlocks darky wave
Like sea foam DER the pillows grave:
Secure beneath this solemn shade,
To rest our weary beasts are laid;
While far above the tempest PATH ..
Is swept with wings of chilling wrath.
Stern Winters hand with fingers cold,
Hath bound each lake with chrystal mould
While DER their heads the spirit dance
OF cleaning north-lights wildly glance.
The moose, swift antlered forest steed,
Turns back, amid his rushing speed,
And dark his eye and lip OF foam
Above our forest watch fires gloam,
Now loud above the night-wind's sigh,
Is heard the fox wild piercing cry;
Then echoing to the lonely owl,
The wolf peals forth his mourntul howl,
While safely in his moss-lined lair,
The snow wreatbs shroud the torpid bear,
Hail once again, thy temple proud,
o Nature formed not for the crowd;
How soft these tuneful arches bind
The solemn voices of the wind
And here, while their low whispering tell,
Amid our dreams, their soothing spell,
While low beneath their columns stern,
Our calm red tent-fres brightly burn,
We hear, wid-muttering DER our sleep,
The voice of tempestwatchmcn deep!
And start, as every shrill-toned blast
Cries out alott the hour that's past.
Our mighty harvest shields us now,
Fit cov'ring for treeman's brow;
Peace awful shades! we will not reap
This solemn grove; still watchful keep
Aloft amid those manling forms,
The mighty voices of the storms;
While Ger your stately pne-treeS proud,
With plumed heads, breaking yon dark cloud
. In the northern parts Of Maine the snow falls
oh depth that il is impossible for the deer to pr
re their usual food while roaming through the fores
cy, therefore, assemble or herd together in the ia
on some spot where the shrub called ground hemlo
ounds. The deer subsst upon the leaves Of Il
ergreen plant and are enabled TO procure 1t by trea
z the snow from around its branches, often as
lis during the season. This spot is called the de
moose beat by the hunters.
I Katadin is one OF the highest mountains in MAR
is situated on the head waters Of the Penobsc
yer. On the brow Of precipice, rising some tho
nds Of feet above lake at the foot OF the mounta
ere is a huge ledge of mica slate over which run:
nall stream Of clear water. This reflects the rays
e sun by day, or the light Of the moon by night, W
markablc brillIaucy. 1t can be seen eight or
lies, and is supposed by tho hunters to be some p
Gus stone of great value. 1t is called katad
arbuncle Lamp