 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere
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XXXI.
TO A MOUNTAIN IN SWITZERLAND.—1.
From all the glittering towers and spires star-bright
That fret thy crystal bastions far below,
With what an awful grace yon dome of snow
Ascends, and, swelling, grows upon our sight,
White as an infant's spirit, or the might
Of grey hairs in a monarch! Soft and slow
Dark clouds across thy Pine-wood vesture flow,
But touch not, mountain king, that sovran height.
The avalanche, borne down in rocky flood,
Thunders unechoed 'mid those seats divine:
And heaven's great diadem of starry globes
Is all thou seest, for thine own white robes
Cancel the world—Never shall foot of mine
Assail the region of thy solitude!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere
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