Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived, Who seeks a Heart in the unthinking Man. Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life Impress their characters on the smooth forehead: Nought sinks into the Bosom's silent depth. Quick sensibility of Pain and Pleasure
Moves the light fluids lightly; but no Soul Warmeth the inner frame.
BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE vale of cHAMOUNY.
Besides the Rivers, Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot of Mount Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides; and within a few paces of the Glaciers, the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its "flowers of loveliest blue."
Hast thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent Sea of Pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent Mount! I gaz'd upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
Did'st vanish from my thought: entranc'd in prayer I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought,
Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret Joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfus'd, Into the mighty Vision passing-there As in her natural form, swell'd vast to Heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks and secret extacy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my Heart, awake! Green Vales and icy Cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole Sovran of the Vale! O struggling with the Darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink: Companion of the Morning-Star at Dawn, Thyself Earth's ROSY STAR, and of the Dawn Co-herald! wake, O wake, and utter praise! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth? Who fill'd thy Countenance with rosy light? Who made thee Parent of perpetual streams?
And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! Who call'd you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns call'd you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jagged Rocks For ever shattered and the same for ever? Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?
And who commanded (and the silence came), Here let the Billows stiffen, and have Rest?
Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the Mountain's brow Adown enormous Ravines slope amain— Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty Voice, And stopp'd at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless Torrents! silent Cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full Moon? Who bade the Sun Cloath you with Rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?- GOD! let the Torrents, like a Shout of Nations Answer! and let the Ice-plains echo, GOD!
GoDl sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! Ye Pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of Snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, GOD!
Ye livery flowers that skirt th' eternal Frost! Ye wild goats sporting round the Eagle's nest! Ye Eagles, play-mates of the Mountain-Storm! Ye Lightnings, the dread arrows of the Clouds! Ye signs and wonders of the element!
Utter forth GOD, and fill the Hills with Praise!
Once more, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing Peaks, Oft from whose feet the Avalanche, unheard, Shoots downward, glittering thro' the pure Serene, Into the depth of Clouds that veil thy breast- Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou That as I raise my head, awhile bow'd low In adoration, upward from thy Base Slow-travelling with dim eyes suffus'd with tears, Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud, To rise before me-Rise, O ever rise,
Rise like a cloud of Incense, from the Earth! Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent Sky, And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising Sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN THE HARTZ FOREST.
I stood on *Brocken's sovran height, and saw Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills, A surging scene, and only limited
By the blue distance. Heavily my way Downward I dragg'd through fir-groves evermore, Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom heard, The sweet bird's song became an hollow sound; And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly, Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct From many a note of many a waterfall, And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet stones The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell Leapt frolicsome, or old romantic goat Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on In low and languid mood: for I had found That outward Forms, the loftiest, still receive Their finer influence from the Life within:
* The highest mountain in the Hartz and indeed in North Ger
From some high eminence on goodly vales,
And cots and villages embowered below,
The thought would rise that all to me was strange Amid the scenes so fair, nor one small spot
Where my tired mind might rest, and call it home.
SOUTHEY'S Hymn to the Penates.
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