TALBOT ROAD: A POEM. _____ Argument.
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Invocation -- Subject proposed -- Colonel Talbot, the projector of the Talbot Road Settlement, and the first who settled in, and explored the country -- Its general outline before settlement -- Discovery of Bayham and Mallahide --Exclamation of Colonel Talbot on taking a view of it, and his determination to see it settled -- First settler on Talbot Road -- Fame tells aloud its advantages -- Impressions it makes on those who visit it, and their resolution to return as settlers -- Emigration described -- Avidity with which emigrants procure lands -- Commencement of their improvements --Log Houses -- Feelings of the proprietors when reflecting on their privileges as British Subjects -- Burning timber from new lands -- Night scene at a new farm -- Apostrophe to Hope and Anticipation -- War -- Its influence on the Talbot Settlement-- The Settlers quit their occupations, and prepare to vindicate their country's rights -- Plundering of the settlers -- Peace -- Its influence on Talbot Road --Continuation of Talbot Road to the settlement below Amherstburgh -- Communication Road from Point aux Pins, to Chatham, on the Thames -- Settlement of the North Branch of Talbot Road, through the Townships of Southwold and Westminster, to the River Thames -- A short recapitulation of the preceding parts of the Poem, and a connected survey of Talbot Road, from its eastern to its western extremities -- A prophetic view of the future state of Talbot Road.
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AWAKE my muse! awake the tuneful lyre, |
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And thro' its numbers breathe with hallowed fire; | ||||
Direct my hand, warm with new life my heart, | ||||
And to my soul thy gift divine impart. | ||||
A nobler theme than ever has been mine, | 5 | |||
Is now the arduous task to me assign'd; | ||||
A theme, whose dignity should summon forth | ||||
The best, and boldest powers of mental worth: | ||||
Then hear, O muse! and grant my humble prayer, | ||||
And deign to give me thy peculiar care. | 10 | |||
For Talbot Road, say first, what master hand |
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This work projected, and its order plann'd? | ||||
Bade the wild woods their rudest forms resign, | ||||
And springing beauty o'eresert shine? | ||||
'Twas TALBOT -- he, with ardent, patriot mind, | 15 | |||
The noble plan, philanthropic, design'd; | ||||
Began the same, upheld, and saw it close, | ||||
Tho' all the warring fates against him rose. | ||||
On Erie's bank, first his lone cabin stood, | ||||
Remote from man, amidst a tow'ring wood, | 20 | |||
Thro'
which, the frequent morn, and evening blast, In
hoarse and hollow sounding murmurs past. 'Twas
here th' eventful scheme of Talbot Road, Great
scheme! first from his mind spontaneous flow'd, Destin'd
to bless, some not far distant time, |
25 | |||
The
happiest country in the happiest clime. He
found a land, by nature's bounty blest, Pure
were its waters, and its soil the best; Healthful
air its; extending far and wide, Its
nodding forests wav'd in ancient pride. |
30 | |||
Its
front is bounded on Lake Erie's shore, From
east to west, full fifty leagues or more; And
Thames' beauteous current, in the rear, Rolls
round his silver waters fair and clear. Erie's
broad wave, which a vast region fills, |
35 | |||
Receives the tribute of some thousand rills, | ||||
Which flowing on, join in collected tides, | ||||
And fertile vales, and flowery banks divide. | ||||
There Otter Creek unfolds a beauteous scene- | ||||
Its rising margins wave eternal green, | 40 | |||
With tow'ring pines, majestic hemlocks Crown'd, | ||||
And chrystal fountains bursting from the ground- | ||||
Its rippling branches, and its purling rills, | ||||
Descending softly from unnumber'd hills. | ||||
Gentle and balmy summer's breezes blow, | 45 | |||
And woodland sweets in streams of incense flow. | ||||
Here blooming nature decks the vernal year, | ||||
While thro' the forest leaps the bounding deer; | ||||
Here health presides,--she wears ethereal plume, | ||||
And breathes the fragrance of eternal bloom; | 50 | |||
Here the full feathery choir their notes prolong, | ||||
While echo answers to their mellow song. | ||||
Sweet birds!--from nature's gayest wardrobes drest, | ||||
With gaudy plumage, and with downy vest. | ||||
Thro' a broad valley rapid Catfish glides,- | 55 | |||
O'er pebbly beds descend his foamy tides; | ||||
His various branches intersect the land, | ||||
And bring their cooling streams on either hand; | ||||
Pure, and translucent, from the fount they run, | ||||
Grateful as nectar to the thirsty tongue. | 60 | |||
Then Kettle Creek a little Bay unfolds, |
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Which to the lake its wat'ry tribute rolls; | ||||
Where scaly myriads, each revolving May, | ||||
In countless shoals, their stated visits pay. | ||||
The margin's bounded by a beauteous vale, | 65 | |||
On which the tall grass bows before the gale; | ||||
And, rising upward, forms a charming plain, | ||||
Where sports fair Flora and her flow'ry train. | ||||
Uninterrupted roves the careless eye, | ||||
Where hills and vales in gay perspective lie; | 70 | |||
Or where the lake its billowy surges pours, | ||||
And round the beaten cliffs tremendous roars; | ||||
Or, mirror-like, smooth and unruffled lies, | ||||
And seems to mingle with the distant skies, | ||||
Where oft the vessel glides with swelling sails, | 75 | |||
Or waits impatient for the fav'ring gales. | ||||
Productive nature smiles o'er all this land, |
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And
strews her bounties with a lavish hand, In
wild profusion--soft meand'ring rills, Deep woods, rich dales, smooth plains, and sunny hills, |
80 | |||
Sylvan
recesses, dark o'erhanging groves, Where
vocal songsters tune their throats to loves; Where
lurks the fox in crafty, sly career, And
in light gambols bounds the wary deer. A land like this, created for delight, |
85 | |||
Industry's
hardy sons might well invite, And
quickly call the energetic worth, The
powers of enterprising freemen forth, Whose
hands would soon transform the rugged wilds To fruitful fields, and bid tam'd nature smile. |
90 | |||
TALBOT was first who trod this desert ground, |
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Its
woods he pierc'd, its situation found; And
two fair towns, from geographic night, Bayham
and Mallahide, were brought to light;* The whole he canvass'd, its importance weigh'd |
95 | |||
And,
in his mind, its future state survey'd. "Ah
why," he cried, "should nature work in vain? Why
this fair land untenanted remain? Why
unappropriated lie the soil, And thousands want its 'vantages the while? |
100 | |||
It
must not be--No, soon the lofty oak Shall
bow before the sturdy woodman's stroke; Earth
shall resign the burden of her breast, And
wear a richer, variegated vest; Man shall be here, yes, man shall swarm the ground, |
105 | |||
And human beings rear their dwellings round; | ||||
And,
far as its extremest limits lie, A
beauteous zone shall guide the stranger's eye. Then,
mine the task to see this work begun, And
mine the pleasure to behold it done." |
110 | |||
Now, first of all, on Talbot Road, began |
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The
settlement, one solitary man; An
arduous task--unaided and alone, The
place a wilderness, and scarcely known; But he, unmindful of surrounding toils, |
115 | |||
Mock'd
fortune's every frown--but caught her smiles He
pierc'd the woods, his devious way he found, And
on the banks of Kettle Creek sat down. Then
bow'd the forest to his frequent stroke; There from his hearth ascended hallowed smoke; |
120 | |||
Angels
look'd down, propitious from above, And
o'er his labors breath'd celestial love: "Go
on and prosper, for throe eyes shall see The
steps of thousands, soon to follow thee; Go on and prosper, for the fostering hand |
125 | |||
Of heaven, shall plant this highly favor'd land." | ||||
Now fame's loud, brazen trump began to sound, |
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The
tidings flew thro' all the countries round; On
Talbot Road her constant praises fell, Nor fail'd a tongue the wondrous tale to tell; |
130 | |||
From
far and near, all flock'd the truth to know, But
found their expectations quite below What
now their eyes beheld. "O blissful land," They
cried, "sure nature has with lavish hand "Scatter'd her sweets--how rich these values lie, |
135 | |||
"How
soft the purling streams meander by! "How
lofty, towering, these deep forests rise, "These
pines, majestic, intercept the skies! "What
stately columns, that, aspiring run "To heaven's blue arch, and hide the noon-day sun! |
140 | |||
"Sure, Liberty must call this favorite soil | ||||
"Her own, and o'er the whole benignly smile; | ||||
"How
fitted to fair freedom's chosen race! "How
might the goddess here her sons embrace! "Then why should it neglected, waste remain? |
145 | |||
"No--here's
an offer--we'll return again; "We
will return again, and fetch our sons, "Our
goods, our cattle, wives, and little ones. "Here
long and happy days are kept in store, "And plenty teems--What can we look for more?" |
150 | |||
As when a wand'ring bird, in some rich field |
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Espies
the treasures' bounteous yield; Well
pleas'd he views the plenteous crop of grain, And
goes to tell his tribe, and come again; He comes, and soon the feather'd squadron join |
155 | |||
Their
straggling bands into a long drawn line; Thick
o'er the field, the assembled armies fall, Invest
the harvest, and consume it all. So
soon, the thronging bands of men appear'd On Talbot Road, nor question'd what they heard; |
160 | |||
All
forward press'd the choicest seats to find, And
fix themselves unto their various mind. Now
thro' the woods their rugged roads they take In
Carts, and vehicles of various make, O'er hills, and logs, and brooks (conveyance rough) |
165 | |||
By
oxen drawn, to bear their household stuff; While
some, the winding way with cattle throng, And
urge the timid, bleating flocks along; Or
strike the nightly tent, with coarse design, Beneath a spreading hemlock or a pine, |
170 | |||
Whose
ample boughs, wide arching, well supply The
place of roof, and guard them from the sky; And
soon the quick-rais'd pile begins to blaze In
cheerful flame, and lights the midnight maze. Around, the wearied family reclines |
175 | |||
In
rude encampment, till the day-star shines, And,
soon as Phoebus o'er the forest smiles, Decamp in haste, and reassume their toils. |
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On Erie's wave, likewise, they launch amain, |
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And eager hundreds plough the liquid plain; | 180 | |||
Stem the rude winds that oft tempestuous sweep | ||||
The faithless bosom of the rolling deep: | ||||
To Talbot Road, the watchword of the day, | ||||
To Talbot Road they take their constant way. | ||||
As, to a smiling land of promis'd rest, | 185 | |||
The expecting pilgrim hies with anxious breast; | ||||
He measures distance with a partial eye, | ||||
And counts on toils as if they were gone by: | ||||
So the lone emigrants their course maintain, | ||||
Nor tarry till the destin'd spot they gain. | 190 | |||
Now Otter Creek, which thro' the country lay, |
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Clear'd of incumbrance, served a broad highway; | ||||
From the rough lake the battaux turn'd aside, | ||||
And rode in safety on its friendly tide. | ||||
This stream, descending from a distant source, | 195 | |||
Unbroken winds thro' all its fertile course: | ||||
From Norwich, Middleton and Bayham take | ||||
And pour its bounteous current to the lake, | ||||
From which, at three leagues distance, Talbot Street | ||||
And Otter Creek, at proper angles meet. | 200 | |||
This serves the settlers as a thoro'fare, | ||||
Who to the lands contiguous repair, | ||||
Or Talbot Road, whence they transport with ease, | ||||
Provisions, furniture, or what they please. | ||||
Now, ceaseless, crowd the emigrants along, |
205 | |||
And moving families the country throng; | ||||
The fertile banks of Otter Creek, some take; | ||||
Some Talbot Road, and some prefer the lake; | ||||
While others claim'd a midway space between, | ||||
And all produced an animating scene. | 210 | |||
Meantime the woodman's ax, with ardor plied, |
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Tumbles the tow'ring pines from side to side; | ||||
Fells the huge elms, and, with tremendous crash, | ||||
Brings down the stedfast oak, and lofty ash; | ||||
Which; pil'd, and interpil'd, present around, | 215 | |||
A
heap of chaos on th' encumber'd ground. Not
more, should Boreas from his windy hall, Arm'd
with fell ire, his blustring forces call, And
send them, howling, o'er the sylvan plain, While headlong fly the rifted trees amain. |
220 | |||
In
heaps on heaps the shivered timbers lie, A
scene of terror to the astonish'd eye. So
crackling, crashing, thund'ring, plunging down, The
stateliest forest trees o'erspread the ground; So roar'd, from day to day, their constant stroke, |
225 | |||
So evening clos'd, and so the morning broke. | ||||
Then rose the cabin rude, of humblest form, |
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To
shield from rain, and guard against the storm; Logs
pil'd on logs, 'till closing overhead With ample sheets of bark of elms o'erspread, |
230 | |||
And
rough-hewn planks, to make a homely floor, A
paper window, and a blanket door. Such
dwellings, first, the hardy settlers made What
could they more?--necessity forbade. 'Twas well--each one a full conviction felt |
235 | |||
That
fairer prospects waited where he dwelt; That
plenty soon would crown his honest toil, And
providence upon his labors smile, And
freedom keep her mild, protecting hand Extended kindly, o'er so fair a land, |
240 | |||
From
her etherial watchtower in the sky, And
guard his dearest rights with jealous eye. How
dear a thought is this to all who feel The
blood of Britons in their bosoms swell, That whereso'er they be, fair freedom warms |
245 | |||
Their
glowing veins, and strings their manly arms; Asserts
their rights, their dignity maintains
Inviolate
from tyrants and their chains; That
laws, no offspring of a despot's will, Laws equal, just, into their minds instil |
250 | |||
A
conscious rectitude, ne'er to be found Where
grim oppression walks his jealous round; With
Circean hand extends his dark control, And
chills each noble feeling of the soul. O power supreme! grant that we long may feel |
255 | |||
The
priceless good, and watch, with stedfast zeal, The
vestal flame committed to our trust, And leave posterity the rich bequest. |
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Now, Autumn's glowing suns with scorching ray, |
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Dried the fall'n timber, as exposed it lay, | 260 | |||
Fit
for the office of consuming fire, Which
soon shall execute the sentence dire. The
Woodman issues with a flaming brand, Pluck'd
from the hearth, brisk blazing in his hand; Amongst the leafy brushwood fast he plies, |
265 | |||
When
lo! a hundred brilliant spires arise, Columns
of flame, and denser smoke that shrouds The
mid-day sun, and mingles with the clouds, Wide
wasting conflagration spreads around, And quickly bares the bosom of the ground. |
270 | |||
Herculean
labors next demand the arm Well
nerv'd (such labors must begin the farm) To
pile the pond'rous logs, and clean the soil, Which
is perform'd not but with hardest toil. O toil!--But what are toil and labor, say?-- |
275 | |||
They
are but names that promise steals away Hope
of reward will all their train disarm, And e'en impart to danger's self, a charm. |
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Now, through the shades of the autumnal night, |
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The flaming log-heaps cast a glaring light; | 280 | |||
In
contrast deep--the clouds, of sable hue, Spread
their dense mantle o'er the ethereal blue; Above
is pitchy blackness--all below Wide
flashing fires--Around, far other show Majestic trees, whose yet unfaded bloom, |
285 | |||
In
pale reflection, gives a sylvan gloom-- |
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A dubious maze, which leads th' uncertain sight | ||||
To the drear confines of eternal night, As
it might seem:--While midst the raging fires, That upward shoot a thousand fork spires, |
290 | |||
Th'assiduous
labourer plies his ready hands To
trim the heaps, and fire th'extinguish'd brands. This
task completed, homeward then he goes, 'Tis
supper hour, and time to take repose; But e'er he sleeps, when the repast is o'er, |
295 | |||
Behold him seated by the cabin door To
take the long accustom'd evening smoke, With
wife and sons, and at the fire heaps look; And
talk of days gone by, and times to come, And scenes of pleasure at the new-found home. |
300 | |||
New schemes for future happiness he tells, And with complacence on each prospect dwells; And portions out, for the ensuing year, A barn to build, or some new land to clear; Or plants an orchard on the sunny hills, |
305 | |||
And
with judicious hand a garden fills; Rich
waving harvests reaps from off the fields, And
all the golden treasures Ceres yields; And
promises, when some few years are run, To buy a farm for each deserving son, |
310 | |||
And see him settled, e'er he lays his head To rest forever, in death's silent bed. The listening sons stand with attentive ear, And strictly mark the promises they hear, Resolve to merit, by attention true, |
315 | |||
The good reward presented to their view. |
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O Hope! thou blest companion of mankind, |
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Thou pleasing partner of the anxious mind! Without thee, life would be a darksome void, Barren and joyless, by itself destroy'd; |
320 | |||
But by thy latent spark's inspiring ray, We find a leading star to point our way; |
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A
beam celestial to conduct the soul A
kind attendant to life's destin'd goal. Tho' from our grasp receding, still it flies, |
325 | |||
And
still eludes us, yet it never dies; Tho'
lost betimes, it only changes place, And
still attracted, we renew the chase, Eager
and fresh, as when, first in life's course, We felt its impulse, and obey'd its force. |
330 | |||
Anticipation,
near to thee alli'd, Thy
constant handmaid, travels by our side, And
strews our path with many a sweet wild flower, Cull'd
from the choicest shrubs of fancy's bower A daily stipend to the sons of hope, |
335 | |||
To
cheer their hearts, and bear their spirits up. Hope,
is a treasure which at usury lies The
interest all our daily wants supplies; And
should we take the principal away, Despair would follow, and demand his prey; |
340 | |||
But
heaven, in mercy, wisely has decreed To
give its bounty only as we need, Lest
we, too prodigal of favors given, Should prove but bankrupts to the gifts of heaven. |
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Now scarce had the terrestrial planet run, |
345 | |||
Its
annual circuit twice around the sun,
, Since
Talbot Road began, when lo! the sound Of
war's dread trump assail'd our ears profound, And
fell invasion, in dark terrors drest, His daggers aim'd at the defenceless breast. |
350 | |||
Caught
by surprise, our infant country lay In
hopeless plight, a seeming certain prey, Full
at the will of an o'erwhelming force, Which
might destruction carry in its course. Then consternation ran thro' every breast, |
355 | |||
And
sad dismay each anxious face confest; No
force, no arms, to ward the threaten'd blow, Or stop the progress of th' invading foe; |
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Succour
far off, and, e'er it could give aid, A quick and easy conquest might be made. |
360 | |||
Then Talbot Road, to its improvements found |
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A
deadly blow, a desolating wound; Its
emigration ceas'd at once, and all Its
high-built hopes of greatness seem'd to fall; Industry's nervous arm was quite unstrung, |
365 | |||
And
fail'd its constant task the woods among; Harvest
was nigh, but not the harvest song, Nor
sounds of gladness woke the joyless tongue; Sad
tales of war instead, and all the train That deal destruction, stalking round amain-- |
370 | |||
The
midnight prowler, or the ruffian band, Loos'd
to run lawless o'er a conquer'd land. But,
straight recovering from the first surprise, We
saw, with joy, a dauntless spirit rise,„ That could the doubtful, wavering breast inspire, |
375 | |||
And
light the lukewarm heart with martial fire. Then,
soon foregoing fear, and false alarms, Our
woodland heroes seiz'd defensive arms, And
stood at call, when duty should command, A numerous, brave, and patriotic band. |
380 | |||
Far
other sight was this, than, when, of late, We
saw them gather'd on th' affairs of state, To
choose a man, who, by free suffrage sent, Should
their collective body represent In Legislative duty. Now 'tis war |
385 | |||
Demands
their presence, rolling from afar, Which
must, e'er long, its wrathful vials shed, And
unprovok'd on the devoted head. Unfinish'd
the late settlers' labors lie, Their implements of husbandry thrown by; |
390 | |||
The
ax no longer thro' the forest sounds, Nor echo to the falling trees resounds; |
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The
half-clear'd field, where long its master toil'd, And
quit reluctant, lies a common wild. The woodman, the new soldier's badge puts on, |
395 | |||
The
knapsack, blanket, cartridge-box, and gun, And
joins his fellows, in the "tented field," To
guard their rights, and prompt assistance yield Their
country's cause. Thus is the patriot known, He fights his country's battles in his own. |
400 | |||
Hail
patriot brave! the meed of praise is due The
laurel wreathe is merited by you Your
country's gratitude--'tis all you crave, For
that will compensate the generous brave. Tho' war assail'd us with appalling roar, |
405 | |||
And
rais'd his hands, distilling human gore, At
once to crush, you to the danger prest, And
form'd a rampart of your daring breast, Expos'd
it freely at your country's call, And bade the shock upon your bosom fall. |
410 | |||
But Talbot Road (thus comes the cup of woe!) |
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Was
doom'd to feel a desolating blow From
the irruptions of a hostile band, That
stript the people, with unsparing hand, Of food and clothing, while the men away, |
415 | |||
On
active duty, at the frontiers lay, And
e'er a force could their maraudings meet, The mounted plund'rers made a safe retreat. |
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At last the silver-throated trump of Peace, |
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In friendly accents, bade the nations cease |
420 | |||
Their
sanguine deeds, when lo! the joyful sound, On
Eagle pinions spread the regions round; Electric
influence with its motions ran,
, And
heartfelt transports beam'd from man to man. In martial order now no more they burn, |
425 | |||
But to their peaceful avocations turn, |
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And ply their hands, industrious, to repair | ||||
The waste and ravage of destructive war. | ||||
The hopes of Talbot Road now rose again, |
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Its
damped spirits took their former train;
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430 | |||
Swift
thro' its palsied energies life ran, Such
as was felt when first the work began; All
join'd its fallen prosperity to rear, And
quick it triumph'd o'er the spoils of war. Again the emigrants, in eager bands, |
435 | |||
Sought
out, and took, the unlocated lands, So
that they soon demanded a survey Of
those that farther to the westward lay; And,
as originally 'twas design'd, This Road to that from Amherstburg was join'd; |
440 | |||
And,
e'er the seasons twice had roll'd around, The swarming settlers left no vacant ground. |
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At Pointe aux Pins the shore a harbor forms, |
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To shelter shipping from the western storms | ||||
That often vex the bosom of the lake, | 445 | |||
And
round the Point in raging tumult break. Near
this runs Talbot Road--some miles behind, Say
twelve, the Thames' easy current winds, Where
Chatham lies: a settlement between, Forming a cross-way, shortly will be seen, |
450 | |||
Which
will connect the River with the Bay, Where
nature has ordain'd a Town to lay. Now
to the North Branch of the Talbot Road, A
copious tide of Emigration How'd; And by a compact settlement, we find |
445 | |||
Westminster
quickly to Port Talbot join'd. Southwold
fills up the intervening space, With
many a finely situated place, As
rich in soil as mortal e'er could crave, And, own'd by men laborious and brave. |
460 | |||
A
branch of Kettle Creek, meandering thro', Some
beauteous vales exhibits to the view, And
fertile banks, won from the wilds complete, Where
sport the winds in virgin crops of wheat. Thro' Westminster, the North Branch Road extends, |
465 | |||
'Midst
new-wrought farms, till at the Thames it ends, Where
wide stretch'd plains, and prairies meet the eye, And
tufted banks, and riv'lets babbling by, Fed
from cool springs, o'erhung by shady trees, That wave majestic to the summer breeze. |
470 | |||
Thro' nature's wilds the muse our steps hath led, |
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Where
we've beheld her pristine form display'd, And
seen the changeful hand of time prepare, A
robe, more pleasing, for herself to wear; We've seen the great, the philanthropic plan, |
475 | |||
Of
Talbot Road, start from the master's hand; Seen
how the lonely Emigrant first came, And
gave the forest to devouring flame; Seen
hundreds follow, till the swarming bands Extended widely o'er these fertile lands; |
480 | |||
Seen
war's dread tempests ravage and destroy, And,
Peace returning, fill each breast with joy; And
lastly, seen a prostrate country rise, At
once a wonder to the stranger's eyes; Now let us see, as on a single sheet, |
485 | |||
The Talbot Road unbroken and complete. |
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In Norfolk county, first the Talbot Street |
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East,
marks its course thro' Middleton complete; Thence,
into Middlesex, thro' Houghton Gore, And thence, thro' Bayham, (where was mark'd before |
490 | |||
A
bridle path)--thence Otter Creek comes down From
Norwich, lengthwise, nearly thro' the Town, On
which, e'en now, the Oar fair Commerce plies, And the first efforts of her Empire tries-- |
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Earnest of future wealth. Next along side, | 495 | |||
Is
the fine thriving town of Mallahide, In
which, fam'd Catfish has its easter source, And
spreads the richest bottoms in its course. Wellington
mills, late built, on Catfish stand, To answer agriculture's loud demand; |
500 | |||
A
work substantial, such as should be found Where
a fine growing country spreads around. In
order, next upon the list appears Yarmouth,
whose fame has fill'd ten thousand ears, For beauteous plains, rich soil, translucent rills, |
505 | |||
Its
rolling surface, and its verdant hills; Its
waving Cornfields, and its meadows gay, Where
bleating flocks already bound and play. A
Town, St. Thomas', is in Yarmouth laid, On a bold bank by Kettle River, made, |
510 | |||
O'erlooking
the broad vale which 'neath it lies A
striking picture in the trav'ler's eyes. Southwold
succeeds, in which the North Branch Road Turns
off to Westminster, as has been show'd: Next Dunwich, ending Talbot Road the East, |
515 | |||
From
whence it is denominated West: Next
Aldbro'‑now the reader must be sent From
Middlesex into the County Kent: Then
follows Orford; Orford, Howard join, Harwich and Raleigh range along the line; |
520 | |||
Tilb'ry,
and Romney East and West, which past, Mersea
remains, on Talbot Road the last. Mersea's
in Essex County. Now to treat Of
all their merits would be to repeat, The praise of towns first named:--'Tis understood |
525 | |||
They
all are beautiful, they all are good; They
all excite our wonder, and our tongue Should
not be silent 'till their worth be sung. But
justice faulters on my humble lays, And my weak efforts scarcely rise to praise. |
530 | |||
Had
I an angel's wing, a seraph's fire, How
would my muse to daring flights aspire! But
No!--the rigid bonds of fate can tame The
ardent breathings of a soul of flame, Or blast the bud of genius e'er the hand |
535 | |||
Of
fostering care shall teach it to expand, And
bind it down, forever to remain Beneath
his awful, adamantine chain! Then,
since my tale does nought but truth unfold, And is a simple story plainly told, |
540 | |||
For
truth's sake take it, reader, and excuse The honest labors of my humble muse. |
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But e'er to Talbot Road I bid adieu, |
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Or
take, indulgent reader, leave of you, I would anticipate times rapid flight, |
545 | |||
And summon dark futurity to light. |
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All hail blest country! for the day appears, |
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The
dawn of greatness for succeeding years, Unfolding
widely to th' enraptur'd sight, That views its coming with supreme delight. |
550 | |||
Blest
is a friendly clime, and fruitful soil, O'er
which, kind providence has deign'd to smile; Blest
in a Government the people's choice, Where
reason speaks, and order lifts her voice; And in its people blest, who, virtuous, brave, |
555 | |||
Well known to prise and guard the good they have. | ||||
Philanthropy this noble work begun, |
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And
perseverance with its progress run; Industry's
hand shall unrelax'd, pursue The glorious object wisdom plac'd in view; |
560 | |||
Prosperity,
to crown the whole design, Shall
deck the wreaths industry's fingers twine. Commerce,
the first of friends to human kind, That
opens a new creation in the mind; That tames the hardy savage, rough and rude, |
565 | |||
And forms society for mutual good, | ||||
Shall
here unfurl the broad and ample sail, To
court the favors of the rising gale; The
barque, deep laden, press the foaming tide, And safely on vast Erie's bosom ride. |
570 | |||
Freighted
with wealth from India's distant shores, Whose burning climes the dauntless tar explores. |
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Beneath the blessings of their native skies, |
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The
Town, the Village shall be seen to rise; The stately mansion, and the costly hall, |
575 | |||
The
labell'd office, neat, convenient, small, The
ample warehouse, and the clean fireside, Where
friendship, love, and harmony reside. The
bustling town, the morn shall usher in, And close the evening with a constant din, |
580 | |||
The
din of business--Wealth already stands, And drops profusion from his open hands. |
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Behold, assembled on the village green, |
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The
youths and maidens--What a charming scene! In summer evening, for a social walk, |
585 | |||
And
the gay pleasures of familiar talk. Love
sparkles in each ruddy damsel's eyes, And,
with their glance his winged weapon flies; Secret,
yet certain, for it strikes the heart, And bids the bounding chords of passion start. |
590 | |||
The
tender tale that love delights to tell, In
accents sweet as e'er from Petrarch fell, Flows
from the tongue of the adoring swain, Who
breathes persuasion in each glowing strain. The choral song, the repartee, the joke, |
595 | |||
The
quip, the sally, the satiric stroke, Dealt
from the "too envenom'd shafts of wit" That
wound the feelings if they aim to hit, Full
oft go round. Now see the setting sun, Follow'd by evening vapors, dense, and dun, |
600 | |||
Impart
his last rays to the village spire, And paint the windows with the hues of fire. |
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Now Talbot Road itself, enraptur'd, see, |
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Rising
transcendent in prosperity. Far as the sight of mortal eye extends, |
605 | |||
Where
Phoebus rises, or where Sol descends, A
constant chain of cultivated farms, Possessing
each a thousand rural charms, Succeed
in view--broad, waving fields of corn, And meadows, breathing all the sweets of morn, |
610 | |||
And
orchards, bowing graceful to the breeze That
rustles thro' the foliage of the trees; The
well stor'd gardens, that, with care, produce, Enough
for fancy and enough for use. On every farm a stately mansion stands, |
615 | |||
That
the surrounding fields at once commands, Where,
oft, the farmer contemplates alone, The
little Eden that he calls his own. Blest
spot! sacred to pure, domestic joy, Where love and duty find their sweet employ. |
620 | |||
On
either side the road a stately row Of
shady trees present a sylvan show, Whose
tops, wide arching, o'er the center meet, And
guard the passenger from noon-day heat. Beneath them, nature's rich, green velvet spread |
625 | |||
In
grassy carpets, or the tufted bed, To
the tir'd foot, a softer walk invites Or
evening ramblers, innocent delights. There
children, sporting in the willowy shade, Shall watch the changing forms by moonlight made |
630 | |||
Thro'
waving branches, and, in tricks assay To
catch the phantoms e'er they flit away. The
trusty watch-dog, tarries by the gate, As
if entrusted with his master's fate, Hails every foot-step that is passing by, |
635 | |||
And warns the master with his faithful cry. | ||||
See science beaming with resplendent light |
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A guiding beacon to man's erring sight, | ||||
To
set fair truth before the devious will, That it may choose the good, and shun the ill, |
640 | |||
While
meek Religion in sweet accents calls The pilgrim home to heavenly Zion's halls. |
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And say, shall not some favor'd poet's song, |
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To
nature tun'd, melodious flow along, In sweetest cadence, by the murm'ring rill, |
645 | |||
The
mossy bank, or violet-cover'd hill, The
arching arbor, or the willow grove, Sacred
to hopeless, melancholy love? Or
in deep numbers, strike the martial lyre, And rouse the listener's soul with glowing fire, |
650 | |||
Which,
like a flame, upon his spirit falls, If patriot virtue or his country calls. |
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Thus saith the Bard, and Oh! ye powers above, |
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Grant that his words, may sure and certain prove. | ||||
ERIEUS.
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