[LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI] | |
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The everlasting universe of things | |
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, | |
Now dark--now glittering-no", reflecting gloom | |
Now lending splendor, where from secret springs | 5 |
The source of human thought its tribute brings | |
Of waters-with a sound but half its own, | |
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume | |
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, | |
Where waterfalls around it leap forever, | 10 |
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river | |
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves. | |
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Thus thou, Ravine of Arve-dark, deep Ravine- | |
Thou many-colored, many-voicéd vale, | |
Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail | 15 |
Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene, | |
Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down | |
From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne, | |
Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame | |
Of lightning through the tempest; thou A lie, | 20 |
Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging, | |
Children of elder time, in whose devotion | |
The chainless winds still come and ever came | |
To drink their odors, and their mighty swinging | |
To hear-an old and solemn harmony; | 25 |
Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep | |
Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil | |
Robes some unsculptured image; the strange sleep | |
Which when the voices of the desert fail | |
Wraps all in its own deep eternity; | 30 |
Thy caverns echoing to the Argues commotion, | |
A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame; | |
Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion, | |
Thou art the path of that unresting sound- | |
Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee | 35 |
I seem as in a trance sublime and strange | |
To muse on my own separate fantasy, | |
My own, my human mind, which passively | |
Now renders and receives fast influencings, | |
Holding an unremitting interchange | 40 |
With the clear universe of things around; | |
One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings | |
Now float above thy darkness, and now rest | |
Where that or thou art no unbidden guest, | |
In the still cave of the witch Poesy, | 45 |
Seeking among the shadows that 'pass by | |
Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee, | |
Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast | |
From which they fled recalls them, thou art there! | |
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Some say that glean-is of a remoter world | 50 |
Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber, | |
And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber | |
Of those who wake and live. I look on high; | |
Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled | |
The veil of life and death? or do I lie | 55 |
In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep | |
Spread far around and inaccessibly | |
Its circles? For the very spirit falls, | |
Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep | |
That vanishes among the viewless gales! | 60 |
Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, | |
Mont Blanc appears-still, snowy, and serene- | |
Its subject mountains their unearthly forms | |
Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between | |
Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps, | 65 |
Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread | |
And wind among the accumulated sleeps; | |
A desert peopled by the storms alone, | |
Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone, | |
And the wolf tracks her there--how hideously | 70 |
Its shapes are heaped around! rude, bare, and high, | |
Ghastly, and scarred, and riven. Is this the scene | |
Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young | |
Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea | |
Of fire envelop once this silent snow? | 75 |
None can reply-all seems eternal now. | |
The wilderness' has a mysterious tongue | |
Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild, | |
So solemn, so serene, that man may be, | |
But for such faith, with nature reconciled; | 80 |
Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal | |
Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood | |
By all, but which the wise, and great, and good | |
interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel. | |
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The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams, | 85 |
Ocean, and all the living things that dwell | |
Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain, | |
Earthquake, and fierv flood, and hurricane, | |
The torpor of the year when feeble dreams | |
Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep | 90 |
Holds every future leaf and flower; the bound | |
With which from that detested trance they leap; | |
The works and ways of man, their death and birth, | |
And that of him and all that his may be; | |
All things that move and breathe with toil and sound | 95 |
Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell. | |
Power dwells apart in its tranquillity, | |
Remote, serene, and inaccessible: | |
And this, the naked countenance of earth, | |
On which I gaze, even these primaeval mountains | 100 |
Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep | |
Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains, | |
Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice, | |
Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power | |
Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle, | 105 |
A city of death, distinct with many a tower | |
And wall impregnable of beaming ice. | |
Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin | |
Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky | |
Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing | 110 |
Its destined path, or in the mangled soil | |
Branchless and shattered stand; the rocks ' drawn down | |
From yon remotest waste, have overthrown | |
The limits of the dead and living world, | |
Never to be reclaimed. The dwelling place | 115 |
Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil | |
Their food and their retreat for ever gone, | |
So much of life and joy is lost. The race | |
Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling | |
Vanish, like smoke before the tempest's stream, | 120 |
And their place is not known. Below, vast caves | |
Shine in the rushing torrents' restless gleam, | |
Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling | |
Meet in the vale, and one majestic River, | |
The breath and blood of distant lands, forever | 125 |
Rolls its loud waters to the ocean waves, | |
Breathes its swift vapors to the circling air. | |
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Mont Blanc et gleams on high-the power is there, | |
The still and solemn power of many sights, | |
And many sounds, and much of life and death. | 130 |
, the calm darkness of the moonless nights, | |
In the lone glare of day, the snows descend | |
Upon that Mountain- none beholds them there, | |
Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun, | |
Or the star-beams dart through them-Winds contend | 135 |
Silently there, and heap the snow with breath | |
Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home | |
The voiceless lightning in these solitudes | |
Keeps innocently, and like vapor broods | |
Over the snow. The secret Strength of things | 140 |
Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome | |
Of Heaven is as a law, Inhabits thee! | |
And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea, | |
if to the human mind's imaginings | |
Silence and solitude were vacancy? | 145 |