University of Virginia Library

Proud mountain giant, whose majestic face,
From thy high watch-tower on the steadfast rock,
Looks calmly o'er the trees that throng thy base,
How long hast thou withstood the tempest's shock?
How long hast thou looked down on yonder vale
Sleeping in sun before thee;
Or bent thy ruffled brow, to let the gale
Steer its white, drifting sails just o'er thee?

Strong link 'twixt vanished ages!
Thou hast a sage and reverend look;
As if life's struggle, through its varied stages,
Were stamped on thee, as in a book.
Thou hast no voice to tell what thou hast seen,
Save a low moaning in thy troubled leaves;
And canst but point thy scars, and shake thy head,
With solemn warning, in the sunbeam's sheen;
And show how Time the mightiest thing bereaves,
By the sere leaves that rot upon thy bed.

Type of long-suffering power!
Even in my gayest hour,
Thou 'dst still my tongue, and send my spirit far,
To wander in a labyrinth of thought;
For thou hast waged with Time unceasing war,
And out of pain hast strength and beauty brought.
Thou amidst storms and tempests hadst thy birth,
Upon these bleak and scantly-sheltering rocks,
Nor much save storm and wrath hast known on earth;
Yet nobly hast thou bode the fiercest shocks
That Circumstance can pour on patient Worth.

I see thee springing, in the vernal time,
A sapling weak, from out the barren stone,
To dance with May upon the mountain peak;
Pale leaves put forth to greet the genial clime,
And roots shot down life's sustenance to seek,
While mere existence was a joy alone—
O thou wert happy then!
On Summer's heat thy tinkling leaflets fed,
Each fibre toughened, and a little crown
Of green upon thy modest brow was spread,
To catch the rain, and shake it gently down.
But then came Autumn, when
Thy dry and tattered leaves fell dead;
And sadly on the gale
Thou drop'dst them one by one—
Drop'dst them, with a low, sad wail,
On the cold, unfeeling stone.
Next Winter seized thee in his iron grasp,
And shook thy bruised and straining form;
Or locked thee in his icicle's cold clasp,
And piled upon thy head the shorn cloud's snowy fleece.
Wert thou not joyful, in this bitter storm,
That the green honors, which erst decked thy head,
Sage Autumn's slow decay, had mildly shed?
Else, with their weight, they 'd given thy ills increase,
And dragged thee helpless from thy uptorn bed.

Year after year, in kind or adverse fate,
Thy branches stretched, and thy young twigs put forth,
Nor changed thy nature with the season's date:
Whether thou wrestled'st with the gusty north,
Or beat the driving rain to glittering froth,
Or shook the snow-storm from thy arms of might,
Or drank the balmy dews on summer's night;—
Laughing in sunshine, writhing in the storm,
Yet wert thou still the same!
Summer spread forth thy towering form,
And Winter strengthened thy great frame.
Achieving thy destiny
On went'st thou sturdily,
Shaking thy green flags in triumph and jubilee!

From thy secure and sheltering branch
The wild bird pours her glad and fearless lay,
That, with the sunbeams, falls upon the vale,
Adding fresh brightness to the smile of day.
'Neath those broad boughs the youth has told love's tale;
And thou hast seen his hardy features blanch,
Heard his snared heart beat like a prisoned bird,
Fluttering with fear, before the fowler laid;
While his bold figure shook at every word—
The strong man trembling at a timid maid!
And thou hast smiled upon their children's play;
Seen them grow old, and gray, and pass away.

Heard the low prattle of the thoughtless child,
Age's cold wisdom, and the lessons mild
Which patient mothers to their offspring say;—
Yet art thou still the same!
Man may decay;
Race after race may pass away;
The great may perish, and their very fame
Rot day by day—
Rot noteless with their once inspired clay:
Still, as at their birth,
Thou stretchest thy long arms above the earth—
Type of unbending Will!
Type of majestic, self-sustaining Power!
Elate in sunshine, firm when tempests lower,
May thy calm strength my wavering spirit fill!
O let me learn from thee,
Thou proud and steadfast tree,
To bear unmurmuring what stern Time may send;
Nor 'neath life's ruthless tempests bend:
But calmly stand like thee,
Though wrath and storm shake me,
Though vernal hopes in yellow Autumn end,
And, strong in Truth, work out my destiny.
Type of long-suffering Power!
Type of unbending Will!
Strong in the tempest's hour,
Bright when the storm is still;
Rising from every contest with an unbroken heart,
Strengthened by every struggle, emblem of might thou art!
Sign of what man can compass, spite of an adverse state,
Still, from thy rocky summit, teach us to war with Fate!