| |
| UPON the far-off mountain’s brow | |
| The angry storm has ceased to beat, | |
| And broken clouds are gathering now | |
| In sullen reverence round his feet; | |
| I saw their dark and crowded bands | 5 |
| In thunder on his breast descending; | |
| But there once more redeemed he stands, | |
| And heaven’s clear arch is o’er him bending. | |
| |
| I ’ve seen him when the morning sun | |
| Burned like a bale-fire on the height; | 10 |
| I ’ve seen him when the day was done, | |
| Bathed in the evening’s crimson light. | |
| I ’ve seen him at the midnight hour, | |
| When all the world were calmly sleeping, | |
| Like some stern sentry in his tower, | 15 |
| His weary watch in silence keeping. | |
| |
| And there, forever firm and clear, | |
| His lofty turret upward springs; | |
| He owns no rival summit near, | |
| No sovereign but the King of kings. | 20 |
| Thousands of nations have passed by, | |
| Thousands of years unknown to story, | |
| And still his aged walls on high | |
| He rears, in melancholy glory. | |
| |
| The proudest works of human hands | 25 |
| Live but an age before they fall; | |
| While that severe and hoary tower | |
| Outlasts the mightiest of them all. | |
| And man himself, more frail, by far, | |
| Than even the works his hand is raising, | 30 |
| Sinks downward, like the falling star | |
| That flashes, and expires in blazing. | |
| |
| And all the treasures of the heart, | |
| Its loves and sorrows, joys and fears, | |
| Its hopes and memories, must depart | 35 |
| To sleep with unremembered years. | |
| But still that ancient rampart stands | |
| Unchanged, though years are passing o’er him; | |
| And time withdraws his powerless hands, | |
| While ages melt away before him. | 40 |
| |
| So should it be,—for no heart beats | |
| Within his cold and silent breast; | |
| To him no gentle voice repeats | |
| The soothing words that make us blest. | |
| And more than this,—his deep repose | 45 |
| Is troubled by no thoughts of sorrow; | |
| He hath no weary eyes to close, | |
| No cause to hope or fear to-morrow. | |
| |
| Farewell! I go my distant way; | |
| Perchance, in some succeeding years, | 50 |
| The eyes that know no cloud to-day | |
| May gaze upon thee dim with tears. | |
| Then may thy calm, unaltering form | |
| Inspire in me the firm endeavor, | |
| Like thee, to meet each lowering storm, | 55 |
| Till life and sorrow end forever. | |
| |
