. Poems . THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK. The sun-beams streak the azure skies,And line with Hght the mountains brow:With hounds and horns the hunters rise,And chase the roebuck thro the snow. 193 From rock to rock, witli giant-bound,High on their iron poles they pass;Mute, lest the air, convulsed by sound,Rend from above a frozen mass. The goats wind slow their wonted craggy steeps and ridges rude;Marked by the wild wolf for his prey,From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud,And as the echoing cliffs huts peep oer the morning-cloud,Perched, like an eagles n
. Poems . THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK. The sun-beams streak the azure skies,And line with Hght the mountains brow:With hounds and horns the hunters rise,And chase the roebuck thro the snow. 193 From rock to rock, witli giant-bound,High on their iron poles they pass;Mute, lest the air, convulsed by sound,Rend from above a frozen mass. The goats wind slow their wonted craggy steeps and ridges rude;Marked by the wild wolf for his prey,From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud,And as the echoing cliffs huts peep oer the morning-cloud,Perched, like an eagles nest, on Stctha>-d, Jiut (■ c 194 WRITTEN AT While thro the broken pane the tempest sighs,And my step falters on the faithless floor,Shades of departed joys around me rise,With many a face that smiles on me no more;With many a voice that thrills of transport silent as the grass that tufts their grave! TO Go — you may call it madness, folly;You shall not chase my gloom such a charm in melancholy,I would not, if I could, be gay. Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasureThat fills my bosom when I would not rob me of a treasureMonarchs are too poor to buy. 19o TO THE FRAGMENT OFA STATUE OF HERCULES, CALLED THE TORSO. And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurled)Still sit as on the fragment of a world;Surviving all, majestic and alone ?What tho the Spirits of the North, that sweptRome from the earth, when in her pomp she slept,Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunkDeep in the dust mid tow
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