Abbildungen der Seite

Till through the sinking ocean, mountains pierced,

And then came forth the land whereon we dwell.

reared like a magic fane above the watery swell.

Thou lookest on the earth, and then it smiles;

Thy light is hid. and all things droop and mourn;

Laughs the wide sea around her budding isles,

When through their heaven thychanging car is borne;

Thou wheel'st away thy night, the woods are shorn

Of all their waving locks, and storms awake;

All, that was once so beautiful, is torn

By the wild winds which plough the

lonely lake, And in their maddening rush, the

crested mountains shake.

The earth lies buried in a shroud of snow;

Life lingers, and would die, but thy return

Gives to their gladdened hearts an overflow

Of all the power that brooded in the urn

Of their chilled frames, and then

they proudly spurn All bands that would confine, and

give to air Hues, fragrance, shapes of beauty,

till they burn. When on a dewy morn thou dartest


Kich waves of gold to wreathe with fairer light the fair.

Thine are the mountains, where they

purely lift Snows that have never wasted, in a


Which hath no stain; below, the

storm may drift Its darkness, and the thunder-gust

roar by;

Aloft in thy eternal smile they lie Dazzling but cold; thy farewell glance

looks there, And when below thy hues of beauty


Girt round them as a rosy belt, they bear

Into the high dark vault a brow that still is fair.

The clouds are thine, and all their

magic hues Are pencilled by thee; when thou

bendest low, Or comest in thy strength, thy hand


Their waving fold with such a perfect glow

Of all pure tints, the fairy pictures throw

Shame on the proudest art; the tender stain

Hung round the verge of Heaven,

that as a bow Girds the wide world, and in their

blended chain All tints to the deep gold, that flashes

in thy train.

These are thy trophies, and thou

bend'st thy arch, The sign of triumph, in a seven-fold


Where the spent storm is hasting on

its march; And there the glories of thy light


And form with perfect curve a lifted line,

Striding the earth and air; — man

looks and tells How peace and mercy in its beauty


And how the heavenly messenger impels

Her glad wings on the path, that thus in ether swells.

The ocean is thy vassal; thou dost sway

His waves to thy dominion, and they g.

Where thou in Heaven dost guide them on their way,

« ZurückWeiter »