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105
SONNET.
IN A PASS OF BAVARIA BETWEEN THE WALCHEN AND THE WALDENSEE.
‘His voice was as the sound of many waters.’
A sound of many waters!—now I know
To what was likened the large utterance sent
By Him who 'mid the golden lampads went:
Innumerable streams, above, below,
Some seen, some heard alone, with headlong flow
Come rushing; some with smooth and sheer descent,
Some dashed to foam and whiteness, but all blent
Into one mighty music. As I go,
The tumult of a boundless gladness fills
My bosom, and my spirit leaps and sings:
Sounds and sights are there of the ancient hills,
The eagle's cry, the mountain when it flings
Mists from its brow; but none of all these things
Like the one voice of multitudinous rills.
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