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(From Goldau, or the Maniac Harper)
AN EVERLASTING hill was torn | |
| From its eternal base, and borne, | |
| In gold and crimson vapors drest, | |
| To where a people are at rest! | |
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| Slowly it came in its mountain wrath, | 5 |
| And the forests vanished before its path, | |
| And the rude cliffs bowed, and the waters fled, | |
| And the living were buried, while over their head | |
| They heard the full march of their foe as he sped, | |
| And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead! | 10 |
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| The clouds were all bright: no lightnings flew, | |
| And over that valley no death-blast blew; | |
| No storm passed by on his cloudy wing, | |
| No twang was heard from the sky-archer’s string; | |
| But the dark, dim hill in its strength came down, | 15 |
| While the shedding of day on its summit was thrown,— | |
| A glory all light, like a wind-wreathed crown,— | |
| While the tame bird flew to the vulture’s nest, | |
| And the vulture forbore in that hour to molest. | |
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| The mountain sepulchre of all I loved! | 20 |
| The villages sank, and the monarch trees | |
| Leaned back from the encountering breeze, | |
| While this tremendous pageant moved! | |
| The mountain forsook his perpetual throne, | |
| Came down from his rock, and his path is shown, | 25 |
| In barrenness and ruin, where | |
| The secret of his power lies bare, | |
| His rocks in nakedness arise, | |
| His desolation mocks the skies. | |
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