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(From The Missionary)
BENEATH aerial cliffs and glittering snows | |
| The rush-roof of an aged warrior rose, | |
| Chief of the mountain tribes: high overhead, | |
| The Andes, wild and desolate, were spread, | |
| Where cold Sierras shot their icy spires, | 5 |
| And Chillan trailed its smoke and smouldering fires. | |
| A glen beneath, a lonely spot of rest, | |
| Hung, scarce discovered, like an eagle’s nest. | |
| Summer was in its prime;—the parrot-flocks | |
| Darkened the passing sunshine on the rocks; | 10 |
| The chrysomel and purple butterfly, | |
| Amid the clear blue light, are wandering by; | |
| The humming-bird, along the myrtle bowers, | |
| With twinkling wing, is spinning o’er the flowers, | |
| The woodpecker is heard with busy bill, | 15 |
| The mock-bird sings,—and all beside is still. | |
| And look! the cataract that bursts so high, | |
| As not to mar the deep tranquillity, | |
| The tumult of its dashing fall suspends, | |
| And, stealing drop by drop, in mist descends; | 20 |
| Through whose illumined spray and sprinkling dews | |
| Shine to the adverse sun the broken rainbow hues. | |
| Checkering, with partial shade, the beams of noon, | |
| And arching the gray rock with wild festoon, | |
| Here its gay network and fantastic twine | 25 |
| The purple cogul threads from pine to pine, | |
| And oft, as the fresh airs of morning breathe, | |
| Dips its long tendrils in the stream beneath. | |
| There, through the trunks with moss and lichens white, | |
| The sunshine darts its interrupted light, | 30 |
| And, mid the cedar’s darksome boughs, illumes, | |
| With instant touch, the Lori’s scarlet plumes. | |
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