 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
5.
Up to lonelier, narrower valleysWinds an intricate ravine
Whence the latest snow-blast sallies
Through black firs scarce seen.
I hear through clouds the Hunter's hollo—
I hear, but scarcely dare to follow
'Mid chaotic rocks and woods,
Such as in her lyric moods
Nature, like a Bacchante, flings
From half-shaped imaginings.
There lie two prostrate trunks entangled
Like intertwisted dragons strangled:
Yon glacier seems a prophet's robes;
While broken sceptres, thrones, and globes
Are strewn, as left by rival States
Of elemental Potentates.
Pale floats the mist, a wizard's shroud:
There looms the broad crag from the cloud:—
A thunder-graven Sphinx's head, half blind,
Gazing on far lands through the freezing wind!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |