 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
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THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT
The day is spent. Dark night has come
With frowning brow and dripping shroud,
And led forth from their caverned home,
The fiercest of her spirit-crowd;
She leans upon the mountain's brow,
And like a silent, living thing,
Upon the misty fields below
She spreads her broad mysterious wing.
With frowning brow and dripping shroud,
And led forth from their caverned home,
The fiercest of her spirit-crowd;
She leans upon the mountain's brow,
And like a silent, living thing,
Upon the misty fields below
She spreads her broad mysterious wing.
Roll on, ye clouds, from every pole,
And veil the earth from moon and star;
Dark, heaving, sounding—onward roll!
Fiercely as when ye are at war;—
For I shall roam the plain this night,
Where sunlight hath so lately been;
And I shall go in serried might—
Veil ye the valley darkly, then.
And veil the earth from moon and star;
Dark, heaving, sounding—onward roll!
Fiercely as when ye are at war;—
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Where sunlight hath so lately been;
And I shall go in serried might—
Veil ye the valley darkly, then.
Ye lightnings, flash along the sky,
And dance ye on the mountain's brow
Ye thunders, peal your song on high—
Dash onward, wild and strangely now!
Ye winds, awake your sleeping power,
And, howling, go ye forth again!
Arouse, ye spirits of the hour,
And rush ye, trooping, o'er the plain!
And dance ye on the mountain's brow
Ye thunders, peal your song on high—
Dash onward, wild and strangely now!
Ye winds, awake your sleeping power,
And, howling, go ye forth again!
Arouse, ye spirits of the hour,
And rush ye, trooping, o'er the plain!
How wildly sweep the winds along—
They ne'er have waked to fiercer glee;
How loudly rings the thunder's song—
Its music hath a charm for me.
It is the song to which I dance,
And I will seek the pleasant vale,
Long ere the morning's red advance,
To revel with the midnight gale.
They ne'er have waked to fiercer glee;
How loudly rings the thunder's song—
Its music hath a charm for me.
It is the song to which I dance,
And I will seek the pleasant vale,
Long ere the morning's red advance,
To revel with the midnight gale.
The chilling fog shall veil my throng,
And thickly lie upon my path;
And shadowy forms shall rush along
Like stalwart foemen in their wrath.
Thick darkness shall unfurl her pinions
O'er all beneath the floating sky;
And her unseen and fearless minions,
Shall plunge like bursting waters by.
And thickly lie upon my path;
And shadowy forms shall rush along
Like stalwart foemen in their wrath.
Thick darkness shall unfurl her pinions
O'er all beneath the floating sky;
And her unseen and fearless minions,
Shall plunge like bursting waters by.
For I shall go in power this night,
To wander with the lowland band;
And we shall join our gathered might
And tread the meadows hand in hand.
Then we shall rush to Ocean's shore,
And call her daughters from their pillows
To listen to the breakers' roar,
And dance upon the foaming billows.
To wander with the lowland band;
And we shall join our gathered might
And tread the meadows hand in hand.
Then we shall rush to Ocean's shore,
And call her daughters from their pillows
To listen to the breakers' roar,
And dance upon the foaming billows.
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Wo, then, to keels the waters lave—
For we shall dash them on before!
Wo, wo to him who sails the wave—
For he shall see his home no more!
Wo to the lovers—they may wail
Who gave fond tokens when they parted!
Wo to the mother on the vale—
She surely will be broken-hearted!
For we shall dash them on before!
Wo, wo to him who sails the wave—
For he shall see his home no more!
Wo to the lovers—they may wail
Who gave fond tokens when they parted!
Wo to the mother on the vale—
She surely will be broken-hearted!
New England Weekly Review, July 7, 1831
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |