 | Songs of two centuries |  |
TO THE MOUNTAIN PROFILE.
This magnificent freak of nature, famous
everywhere as “The Old Man of the Mountain”, is well known to those
who have frequented the Franconia Range. It is situated twelve hundred
feet above the vantage-ground, from which it is best viewed—the profile bearing
an extraordinary resemblance to a human face (though not of the most refined
character). The great rocks which compose it are forty feet from the top
of the chin to the crown, and are wide in about the right proportion for a human
face. The rock comprising forehead, mouth, and chin, are several feet
apart: and there is no resemblance to the human face in a front view of them.
This great mountain-sculpture creates different impressions in different
minds: and an attempt has been made in the two poems (“To the Mountain
Profile” and “To the Same”), to depict the two extremes of these.
This magnificent freak of nature, famous everywhere as “The Old Man of the Mountain”, is well known to those who have frequented the Franconia Range. It is situated twelve hundred feet above the vantage-ground, from which it is best viewed—the profile bearing an extraordinary resemblance to a human face (though not of the most refined character). The great rocks which compose it are forty feet from the top of the chin to the crown, and are wide in about the right proportion for a human face. The rock comprising forehead, mouth, and chin, are several feet apart: and there is no resemblance to the human face in a front view of them.
This great mountain-sculpture creates different impressions in different minds: and an attempt has been made in the two poems (“To the Mountain Profile” and “To the Same”), to depict the two extremes of these.
From Clara's Mind.
Of some god of the past,
What wouldst thou say if thy lips of gray
Could speak at last?
At the mountain's fierce birth,
When fiends of fire made a red pyre
Of the desolate earth?
Snowy hills of the North,
Glaciers of gray from their country astray
Sailed in majesty forth?
That imprisoned thee there?
Penitent now, is that sad brow
Lifted in prayer?
About thy face,
Dost thou not fear destruction near,
Last of thy race?
Cheers the world and the sky,
Dost thou e'er groan lest while Earth holds her own,
Thou canst not die?
| Songs of two centuries | |