Cloath you GOD! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! 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- 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! LINES Written in the Album at Elbingerode, in the Hartz Forest. I STOOD ON *Brocken's sovran height, and saw By the blue distance. Heavily my way 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 *The highest mountain in the Hartz and indeed in North Germany. In low and languid mood: for I had found Or gentle Maid, our first and early love, Of our adored Country! O thou Queen, O dear, dear England! how my longing eye My native Land! Filled with the thought of thee this heart was proud, From sovran Brocken, woods and woody hills, Feeble and dim! Stranger, these impulses .... ......When I have gazed From some high eminence on goodly vales, And cots and villages embowered below, Where my tired mind might rest, and call it home. SOUTHEY'S Hymn to the Penates. |