 | Songs of Religion and Life |  |
161
The River: an Allegory of Life.
I.
Son of the mountain am I,Born 'twixt the Earth and the Sky,
Where kindly cherished I lay
In my cradle of soft mossy green,
Looking with clear bright eye
On the clouds that curtained the day,
Floating in freakish display
With cerulean glimpses between.
Son of the mountain am I,
Born 'twixt the Earth and the Sky,
Where the old grey rocks stand out
162
Snorting with jagged old snout
At the keen winds whistling by;
Where the eagle spreads his van,
And the white-winged ptarmigan—
Fed by rich dews from the sky
There an infant of might I did lie.
II.
Young was I, and lusty-hearted,When first from the mountain I started,
Down from the Ben's grey shoulders
Over the old granite boulders,
Scornful of rest and of ease,
Eagerly running and leaping,
Scooping the rocks with my sweeping,
Tearing the roots of the trees;
Swelling with torrent big-breasted,
Dashing with stream foamy-crested
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Heaving and hurling,
Whirling and swirling
O'er the harsh roots of the Ben;
Foaming and bubbling,
Winding and doubling
Through the long stretch of the glen,
So lusty was I,
Son of earth and of Sky,
So proud of my potency then!
III.
Now I am grown to a River,With measured and equable strain
Rolling my waters, and never
To toss and to tumble again;
I am grown to a smooth-flooded River,
The mighty and merciful Giver
Of wealth to the sons of the plain.
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In triumph of culture I ride,
With the home of the peer and the peasant
To bless the rich roll of my tide;
The firm-poised bridge I flow under,
The fair-builded city I know,
And spires, domes, and turrets, a wonder,
Nod their pride in my glass as I go;
And high-tunnelled vessels are steaming
And churning the foam of my tide,
And trafficking thousands are streaming
With quick-eyed despatch at my side.
And millions are praising the River
As he regally rolls to the main,
The mighty and merciful Giver
Of wealth to the sons of the plain.
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