*T Moore, Saratoga (mooresaratoga2)
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*C Moore's 'Poems' 1844 



The sun had reach'd, at length, his northern goal;
Fierce wintry storms were chang'd to summer showers;
Soft zephyrs through the rustling foliage stole;
And dews of evening cheer'd the drooping flowers.
The day was fix'd on when they should depart;
And all their buoyant spirits were alive,
Like high-bred coursers straining on the start,
Distracted for the moment to arrive.
All their equipments had the young folk made;
And gather'd such a vast and varied store
As would suffice a merchant for his trade,
Or fit them all the world to travel o'er.
"Young travellers," said their father, "all are so:
Learn, learn, betimes, my children, to beware
Of grasping much, while through this world you go;
You only gain embarrassment and care.
Believe me, 'twill require your keenest looks
To guard the smallest parcel you may need:
Then leave your extra wardrobes, and your books,
Scarce one of which you'll have the time to read."
Too happy were their spirits, to complain;
And 'twas agreed that many a coat and vest
And well-fill'd trunk and basket should remain,
And ev'ry bandbox too, the traveller's pest.
To Charles, the eldest son, it was assign'd
To watch the baggage; he was strong and large;
And Kate, with all her rattling, sweet and kind,
Had little Sue and Meg beneath her charge.
William and John were of that age when boys
Are rude in mind and awkward in their forms;
When love of fun, of playful strife and noise,
Seems the one passion which their bosom warms.
The long expected day arriv'd at last.
The oppressive atmosphere was damp and warm.
The horison, in the West, was overcast.
The sky foretold an evening thunder storm.
Their father said the jaunt should be deferr'd
Until the storm was o'er and skies were clear;
And, of his children's murmurs, not a word,
To swerve him from his purpose, would he hear:
He thought, in quest of pleasure, 'twas absurd
To rush on scenes of peril and of fear.
Not so the youthful troop; to them, delay
Of promis'd pleasure was a serious pain:
No threaten'd danger could have stopp'd their way:
They look'd on distant trouble with disdain.
But, long ere night, the boded storm growl'd hoarse;
Still gathering rage, more threat'ning and more loud.
The southern breeze, that strove to stay its course,
To fury fann'd the dense and lurid cloud ---
"Down with the windows, run, here comes the gust,
Quick, quick, the wind has veer'd --- See! what a flash!"
Scarce Henry spoke, when came the smothering dust,
A torrent next, and thunder, crash on crash:
No interval between the light and sound;
So sharp and near was ev'ry awful stroke.
From cloud to cloud the echoes roll'd around,
And, far off, into angry murmurs broke.
Good Henry, with a look devoid of fear,
His children, from the walls and windows stay'd;
Yet taught them not to cower at danger near,
But gaze upon the lightning as it play'd.
'Tis well that violence soon spends its power;
And well that we forget our fear and pain.
The storm that rag'd was but a summer-shower;
And all, ere long, was peace and joy again.
The birds sang out; the setting sun was bright;
The diamond rain-drops glitter'd on the green;
The clouds were stain'd with gorgeous tints of light;
A lofty rainbow crown'd the magic scene.
The morn succeeding shone forth heav'nly fair:
The western breeze was cool, but gently blew.
Some pearl-bright clouds sailed softly, through the air,
And made more deep the deep cerulean hue.
None can describe the bustle, noise and rout,
The various sounds from ev'ry throat that pour'd,
Till fairly for the steamer they'd set out,
And, bag and baggage, all were safe aboard.
"We're off at length," exclaim'd the joyous band;
For now the steamer ceas'd its hissing roar;
The paddles slowly plash'd, on either hand,
To draw the vessel gently from the shore.
And now the steam breath'd out in greater force;
The gallant boat was fairly under way;
In majesty she shap'd her rapid course ---
Were ever folk so happy and so gay!
Dense with a living mass the vessel teem'd;
In search of pleasure, some, and some, of health;
Maids who of love and matrimony dream'd,
And speculators keen, in haste for wealth;
Old men smooth shorn; lads with long beards and rough;
Rich men ill clad, and poor ones smart and clean;
True honest men, with looks and language gruff;
And rogues with speeches soft, and smiles between.
Some woman too would catch the ear and eye,
Striving, with might and main, her brat to quiet,
Who paid its mother's scolding lullaby
With kicks and jerks and still a louder riot.
The smiling maids, in flower-lin'd bonnets drest,
Seem'd, to the careless gaze, all fair alike:
No one, at first, was likely to arrest
The wand'ring eye, or transient view to strike.
So, clust'ring cherries on the tree appear,
At distance seen, all ripe, and plump, and sound;
'Tis not till gather'd, and examin'd near,
That many a canker'd blemish may be found.