Mountain, with thy firm old foot
Fast beside the sea,
What was in thy keeping put,
Prisoned under thee?
"Hark, and hear the shuddering ground!
Feel it rock and quake!
Struggling fires, beneath me bound,
Strive their chains to break."
Mountain, with a cloudy vest
Girded o'er thy heart,
Does it pierce thine aged breast,
When its lightnings dart?
"No:—beneath me far, the crash
Of the bolt is felt:
Here, the fiery chain and flash
But adorn my belt."
Mountain, with a snowy crown
Stainless on thy brow,
Wilt thou never cast it down—
Never, never bow?
"When the mandate I shall hear
From my Maker's throne,
I will bow and disappear,
Hence to be unknown."
Mountain, holding proud and high
Thine old hoary head,
What is written on the sky,
Thou so long hast read?
"Brighter than the stars and sun
Shining over me,
I behold the name of ONE
Thou must die to see!"
Mountain, bold thine eloquence—
Glowing is thy speech;
Mighty import flashes thence;
What is it to teach?
"Thoughts of Him, before whose breath
I shall melt away;
While of thee, soul—spirit, death
Ne'er shall quench a ray!"