 | Memorials of a residence on the continent |  |
11
WRITTEN IN THE MOUNTAINS OF THE TYROL.
A Heart the world of men had bound and sealedWith shameful stamp and miserable chain,
Here, mother Nature, is to Thee revealed,
Open to Thee; oh! be it not in vain.
Flow over it, ye Torrents,—though I fear,
That be your course as fierce as e'er it may,
The sorrow-stains engrained there many a year
Your force can never, never, wash away:
Then come, ye Mountains, ye half-heavenly Forms,
Based in deep lakes and woods, and crowned with storms,
Close on it,—cover,—seal it up again,
But with the signet of your own pure power,
So that unbroken, till the' all-searching hour
Of Death, that impress may on it remain.
| Memorials of a residence on the continent | |