| |
| THESE mountains sleep, with winter’s mantle round them, | |
| The thunder’s voice no longer breaks their rest; | |
| From bluest heights the sun beholds with rapture | |
| The noble pose of each gigantic crest. | |
| |
| The generations of the clouds have vanished | 5 |
| Which lingered idly here through autumn days; | |
| The leaves have gone, the voices of the tempest | |
| No longer roll to heaven their hymn of praise. | |
| |
| Deep hid in snow, the streams with muffled murmurs | |
| Pour down dark caverns to the infinite sea; | 10 |
| This awful peace has vexed their restless childhood; | |
| They hurry from its dread solemnity. | |
| |
| Even the climbing woods are mute and spellbound, | |
| And halting midway on the steep ascent, | |
| The patient spruces hold their breath for wonder, | 15 |
| Nor shake the snow with which their boughs are bent. | |
| |
| Now as the sun goes down with all his shining, | |
| Huge shadows creep among these mighty walls, | |
| And on the haunting ghosts of bygone ages | |
| The dreamy splendour of the starlight falls. | 20 |
| |
| Not Nineveh, not Babylon nor Egypt, | |
| In all their treasures ’neath the hungry sand, | |
| Can show a sight so awful and majestic | |
| As this waste temple in this newer land. | |
| |
| The king that reared these mighty courts was Chaos, | 25 |
| His servants, fire and elemental war; | |
| The Titan hands of Earthquake and of Ocean | |
| These granite slabs and pillars laid in store. | |
| |
| And lauding here the vast and living Father, | |
| The ages one by one have knelt and prayed, | 30 |
| Until the ghostly echoes of their worship | |
| Come back and make man’s puny heart afraid. | |
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