| |
| STRUGGLING along the mountain path, | |
| We hear, amid the gloom, | |
| Like a roused giant’s voice of wrath, | |
| A deep-toned, sullen boom: | |
| Emerging on the platform high, | 5 |
| Burst sudden to the startled eye | |
| Rocks, woods, and waters, wild and rude,— | |
| A scene of savage solitude. | |
| |
| Swift as an arrow from the bow, | |
| Headlong the torrent leaps, | 10 |
| Then tumbling round, in dazzling snow | |
| And dizzy whirls it sweeps; | |
| Then, shooting through the narrow aisle | |
| Of this sublime cathedral pile, | |
| Amid its vastness, dark and grim, | 15 |
| It peals its everlasting hymn. | |
| |
| Pyramid on pyramid of rock | |
| Tower upward wild and riven, | |
| As piled by Titan hands to mock | |
| The distant smiling heaven. | 20 |
| And where its blue streak is displayed, | |
| Branches their emerald network braid | |
| So high, the eagle in his flight | |
| Seems but a dot upon the sight. | |
| |
| Here columned hemlocks point in air | 25 |
| Their cone-like fringes green; | |
| Their trunks hang knotted, black, and bare, | |
| Like spectres o’er the scene; | |
| Here, lofty crag and deep abyss, | |
| And awe-inspiring precipice; | 30 |
| There, grottos bright in wave-worn gloss, | |
| And carpeted with velvet moss. | |
| |
| No wandering ray e’er kissed with light | |
| This rock-walled sable pool, | |
| Spangled with foam-gems thick and white, | 35 |
| And slumbering deep and cool; | |
| But where yon cataract roars down, | |
| Set by the sun, a rainbow crown | |
| Is dancing o’er the dashing strife,— | |
| Hope glittering o’er the storm of life. | 40 |
| |
| Beyond, the smooth and mirrored sheet | |
| So gently steals along, | |
| The very ripples, murmuring sweet, | |
| Scarce drown the wild bee’s song; | |
| The violet from the grassy side | 45 |
| Dips its blue chalice in the tide; | |
| And, gliding o’er the leafy brink, | |
| The deer, unfrightened, stoops to drink. | |
| |
| Myriads of man’s time-measured race | |
| Have vanished from the earth, | 50 |
| Nor left a memory of their trace, | |
| Since first this scene had birth; | |
| These waters, thundering now along, | |
| Joined in Creation’s matin-song; | |
| And only by their dial-trees | 55 |
| Have known the lapse of centuries! | |
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