Part 12 — PIONEERS OF WESTERN NEW YORK.

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BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.

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High was the homage senates paid

To the plumed conquerors of old,

And freely at their feet were laid

Rich piles of flashing gems and gold.

Proud History exhausted thought—

Glad bards awoke their vocal reeds,

While Phidian hands the marble wrought

In honor of their wondrous deeds:

But our undaunted pioneers

Have conquest more enduring won,

In scattering the night of years,

And opening forests to the sun:

And they are victors nobler far

Than the helmed chiefs of other times,

Who rolled their chariots of war

In other lands, and distant climes.

Earth groaned beneath those mail-clad men,

Bereft of beauty where they trod—

And wildly rose, from hill and glen,

Loud, agonizing shrieks to God.

Purveyors to the carrion-bird,

Blood streamed from their uplifted swords,

And while the crash of states was heard

Swept on their desolating hordes.

Then tell me not of heroes fled—

Crime renders foul their boasted fame!

While widowed ones and orphans bled,

They earned the phantom of a name.

The sons of our New England sires,

Armed with endurance, dared to roam

Far from the hospitable fires,

And the green, hallowed bowers of home.

Distemper, leagued with famine wan,

Nerved to a high resolve, they bore;

And flocks, upon the thymy lawn,

Ranged where the panther yelled before.

Look now abroad! the scene how changed

Where fifty fleeting years ago,

Clad in his savage costume, ranged

The belted lord of shaft and bow.

No more a woody waste, the land

Is rich in fruits and golden grain,

And clustering domes and temples stand

On upland, river-shore and plain.

In praise of Pomp let fawning Art

Carve rocks to triumph over years—

The grateful incense of the heart

Give to our glorious pioneers.

Almighty! may thy stretched-out arm

Guard, through long ages, yet to be,

From tread of slave, and kingly harm

Our Eden of the Genesee!

J.F. Lewis A.L. Dick

THE SPORTSMAN.

Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine