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(Excerpt)
SCENE first;—the Pyrenees at Venus point, | |
| Her temple shining o’er the waves, that came | |
| Rising and falling with the sounds that swell | |
| The grand old choral music of the sea— | |
| To greet us with a murmur from the East. | 5 |
| The next;—the broad blue waters of the Rhone, | |
| That swirled betwixt us and the yelling Gauls, | |
| Until our vanguard flashed upon their rear, | |
| And freed the passage;—the long line of wharfs, | |
| The glittering arms, horse, foot, and elephants, | 10 |
| Twisting their monstrous trunks in wonderment;— | |
| Last, the great cheer upon the further bank! * * * * * | |
| What sights, what sounds, what wonders, marked our way! | |
| Terrors of ice, and glories of the snow, | |
| Wide treacherous calms, and peaks that rose in storm | 15 |
| To hold the stars, or catch the morn, or keep | |
| The evening with a splendor of regret; | |
| Or, jutting through the mists of moonlight, gleamed | |
| Like pearly islands from a seething sea;— | |
| On dawn-swept heights, the war-cry of the winds; | 20 |
| The wet wrath round the steaming battlements, | |
| From which the sun leapt upward, like a sword | |
| Drawn from its scabbard;—the green chasms that cleft | |
| Frost to its centre; echoes drifting far, | |
| Down the long gorges of the answering hills; | 25 |
| The thunders of the avalanche;—the cry | |
| Of the strange birds that hooted in amaze | |
| To see men leaving all the tracks of men;— | |
| Snow-purpling flowers, first promise of the earth; | |
| Then welcome odors of the woods less wild; | 30 |
| Gray lustres looming on the endless moor; | |
| The voice of fountains, in eternal fall | |
From night and solitude to life and day!
THE END. | |
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