Andes, or the snowy scalps
Of the giant towering Alps!
Hills prolific, valley deeps,
Where the muse of silence sleeps;
Frowning cliff, and beetling rock,
Shivered by the deluge shock,
When the world was drowned--and now
Tottering before Ruin's plough.
Forests green, and rivers wide--
Every flow and ebb of tide.
Rivulets, whose crystal veins
Ripple along flowery plains,
Leaping torrents rushing hoarse,
Mimicking the ocean's force,
Leafage in its summer pride--
Flowers to Paradise allied.
Fruit inviting, luscious, such
As seems to paralyze the touch,
As ambrosial nectar sweet,
Ripe and fit for Gods to eat.
Nature's power is seen in all--
Winter's Crown, or Spring-birds' call--
Summer's eloquent perfume,
Autumn's yellow-tinted bloom--
Every chiselled sand grain tells
Nature's might; the petal cells,
Whence the bee her honey draws,
Glorify Creation's laws;
Things minute, or vast expanse
That tires the astronomic glance.
Ocean swathed with azure blue,
Or the gems of morning dew.
_Past_--with all its mighty deeds,
Nature claims its choicest meeds;
_Present_--with portentous calm,
Nature claims its chiefest palm;
_Future_--ah! she trembles _there_,
Nature quivers in despair.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31