I.
On a wild cliff that rears its bold crest to the sky
I stood when the Storm-king was raging on high;
Dark lowered the tempest that spread o’er his brow,
And like reeds in the wind the tall crags seemed to bow.
II.
But he soon passed away with his storm banners furled,
And a sun-tide of glory burst forth o’er the world,
While around the dark East, ere the dayspring’s decline,
Curved the bright bow of peace with its promise divine.
III.
Beneath the broad arch in the valley below
Lay the home of the rich, lay the cot of the low;
There in beauty secluded the hamlet arose,
And the churchyard beside lay in quiet repose.