Where e'er I roam, what e'er I see, my heart, Chautauqua, turns to thee . Even La Salle and Hennepin,Could th(\v but see these lakes again :View Eries and Chautau({uas shoreAfter two hundred years and more.— See jKmdrous shij)swith breath of smoke,Such in their day, had never brokeThe stillness of Chautauquas now so many come to take,— Their summer outing, recreation,And send a blessing to each nation ;Enlighten all despotic powers,With tires from this free land of ours. Chautauquas fame shall never fail;Tis borne abroad on every gale,To furtherest of earthly bounds,Thy name, Chauta
Where e'er I roam, what e'er I see, my heart, Chautauqua, turns to thee . Even La Salle and Hennepin,Could th(\v but see these lakes again :View Eries and Chautau({uas shoreAfter two hundred years and more.— See jKmdrous shij)swith breath of smoke,Such in their day, had never brokeThe stillness of Chautauquas now so many come to take,— Their summer outing, recreation,And send a blessing to each nation ;Enlighten all despotic powers,With tires from this free land of ours. Chautauquas fame shall never fail;Tis borne abroad on every gale,To furtherest of earthly bounds,Thy name, Chautauqua, now resounds. When Agamemnon, to temi)les of the ancient Troy,Had filled old Priams heart with fear,None know what was enacting here! They had no Homer to, in verse,Their martial valor to rehearse,Sing of the wild and bloody crown their victors of the day. This is the point m which they failed ;No scribe to tell how greaved and those who lead in the deeds of Sherman, Grant,—. And others of our modern time,Whose names now ring in prose and may such anthems cease,Because of Universal Peace. It is hut reason we only lacked a chronicler,But as no chronicler was sent,Down to ohlivion they went, They were as able to destroy,As Ajax at the siege of Troy;For martial prowess every one,Was equal to a Telamon. How many tribes which now are not, In legend and in song forgot, With disappointment sorely tried, Have fought, were conquered and have died. For them, no scribe in song has secrets that the past now hold ;No epic lay our blood garlands bind their dusky brows. Their mounds, important in their day,Where statesmen and their warriors lay,Emit no ray of hopeful silence reigning here. Though epic of the poets brainForever silent must remain,Yet dust of heroes surely mayBe pressed beneath our feet to-day! u Tis now as in the ancient years ; We risk our lives to win th
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