 | Poems: Second Series |  |
42
ON SNOWDON.
But mists grew round us even as we spake—
Impenetrable mists of ghostly white,
That hid the darkness and the stars of night,
And hid the slumber of the glimmering lake,
And the dark cliffs that circle it and break
The might of storm and sun—and hid the snow,
And frozen steps imprinted deep to show
The perilous pathway that our feet must take.
So wrapped in mist we climbed forlorn of hope,
Forgetful of the prize that our desire
Had painted in its dreams—night's veil withdrawn,
And, from the summit of the weary slope,
Sea, hill and plain—a waking world afire
With the first rosy shimmer of the dawn.
Impenetrable mists of ghostly white,
That hid the darkness and the stars of night,
And hid the slumber of the glimmering lake,
And the dark cliffs that circle it and break
The might of storm and sun—and hid the snow,
And frozen steps imprinted deep to show
The perilous pathway that our feet must take.
So wrapped in mist we climbed forlorn of hope,
Forgetful of the prize that our desire
Had painted in its dreams—night's veil withdrawn,
And, from the summit of the weary slope,
Sea, hill and plain—a waking world afire
With the first rosy shimmer of the dawn.
Then came the rushing of a sudden blast—
A bitter nightwind, from whose icy breath
Even the mists, chilly and damp as death,
Shivered and shrank affrighted—fierce and fast
Into the void of air their billows passed,
Rolled by the fury of the whirling wind—
And for a moment all the heights behind
Stood forth supremely—manifest at last—
The kingly mountain in its robe of white
Wildly awoken from its misty swoon—
The pillars that uplift its dome on high—
Its lonely precipices black as night
Against the crescent of the risen moon,
And stars and darkness of the unclouded sky.
A bitter nightwind, from whose icy breath
Even the mists, chilly and damp as death,
Shivered and shrank affrighted—fierce and fast
43
Rolled by the fury of the whirling wind—
And for a moment all the heights behind
Stood forth supremely—manifest at last—
The kingly mountain in its robe of white
Wildly awoken from its misty swoon—
The pillars that uplift its dome on high—
Its lonely precipices black as night
Against the crescent of the risen moon,
And stars and darkness of the unclouded sky.
And then the mists grew round us, as before,
And knee-deep in the snow we struggled on
With blinded eyes: but ever and anon
For one such mighty moment and no more
Came such a shiver of the wind and tore
Aside the veil that hid the mountain's face,
And shewed the white mists wreathing round the base
Of its dark dripping buttresses, and bore
Their boiling waves with stormy speed along:—
O lost and found! O mountain, lake and sky!
O sudden revelation! swift eclipse!
Marvellous moments, that my accents wrong,
Forgive! My passionate recollections die
Even on the threshold of my faltering lips.
And knee-deep in the snow we struggled on
With blinded eyes: but ever and anon
For one such mighty moment and no more
Came such a shiver of the wind and tore
Aside the veil that hid the mountain's face,
And shewed the white mists wreathing round the base
Of its dark dripping buttresses, and bore
Their boiling waves with stormy speed along:—
O lost and found! O mountain, lake and sky!
O sudden revelation! swift eclipse!
Marvellous moments, that my accents wrong,
Forgive! My passionate recollections die
Even on the threshold of my faltering lips.
44
There passed a time and we had won the height:
Bitter and bleak the breath of twilight blew,
Visible in the mist, that ever grew
More wan and cold: the darkness of the night
Slowly became a pale and lifeless light,
That touched with frosty red each orient cloud:—
And ever as the circling mists allowed,
A wilderness of mountains filled the sight—
Black island masses, round whose shores were tost
Billows of vapour—surgings of a sea:—
While to the west, in one vast crescent sweep,
Ran fifty leagues of dimly outlined coast,
Whose rocky headlands murmured voicelessly
The white lipped moanings of the eternal deep.
Bitter and bleak the breath of twilight blew,
Visible in the mist, that ever grew
More wan and cold: the darkness of the night
Slowly became a pale and lifeless light,
That touched with frosty red each orient cloud:—
And ever as the circling mists allowed,
A wilderness of mountains filled the sight—
Black island masses, round whose shores were tost
Billows of vapour—surgings of a sea:—
While to the west, in one vast crescent sweep,
Ran fifty leagues of dimly outlined coast,
Whose rocky headlands murmured voicelessly
The white lipped moanings of the eternal deep.
| Poems: Second Series | |