Journey to California – 1849

The Belfast Newsletter 11th September, 1849
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JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA.

So now the Golden Age is come,
The Golden Country lies before us,
We leave the plough, we quit the loom,
And merrily we chant in chorus,
“The Golden Country lies before us.”

Away! Away! across the sea,
Thro’ forest vast and wild Savannah,
With fearless heart and footstep free,
And fed with joy’s celestial manna,
We cross the lone and wild Savannah.

Away! Away! our hopes burn bright,
The Golden Country lies before us,
Nor rest by day nor sleep by night,
But forward still, and chant in chorus,
“The Golden Country lies before us.”

We travel thro’ a lordly land,
A land of Dream, a realm of Faery,
Here shine white lakes, and near them stand
Tall trees of graceful shape and airy,
All mirrored in those lakes of Faery.

A marble city rises here,
A Golden Country gleams before us,
Soft lawns, delicious shades appear
Yet linger not, but chant in chorus,
“The Golden Country lies before us.”

Yes, we have left the enchanted ground
Of Dream and delicate Illusion,
But see what flowers are blooming round,
And wooing us with bright profusion.
One moment stay, ’tis no illusion.

O never care for idle flowers,
The Golden Country lies before us;
Leave poetry for boys, be ours
The truth of life; and chant in chorus,
“The Golden Country lies before us.”

We leave the Sunflower with the Sun,
The Torch-flower burning by the river,
The Trumpet-flower to wear alone
His blue and scarlet robe for ever;
We cross the plain, we ford the river.

Ah now! ah now! the mountains rise,
The Golden Country gleams before us,
The wealthy man alone is wise,
Is king of men – the chant in chorus,
“The Golden Country lies before us.”

Ah stay! behold those seven small Lakes,
Beneath enamoured woodlands shining,
Mid rustling leaves the breeze awakes,
The bright moss, with an emerald lining,
Clothes pine and cedar, rustling, shining.

The Hills, the Lakes, the Flowers are gone,
The Golden Country gleams before us,
Youth’s visions faded one by one,
The man is wise; and thus, in chorus,
We chant the Golden Land before us.

Is this your Promised Land? Is this
The wealth, the wisdom that you proffer?
Is this your sober, waking bliss?
Is this the sceptre that you offer?
Take hence the throne – the crown ye proffer.

Amid red rock and desert sand,
The Golden Country lies before us,
Famine and Hunger hand in hand,
Behind us Death, the Judgment o’er us,
The Golden Country gleams before us.

We left the still pure land of Dreams,
The fairy world of Art and Beauty,
Of Love and Faith where sunny gleams
Colour and warm the waste of Duty,
And half transfigure it with Beauty.

Ah! this is not the world we sought,
No Golden Country gleams before us;
O give us back our Lofty Thought,
Our Faith, our God, our Heaven restore us,
There gleams no Golden Land before us.