Bis der nächtliche Schiffer, wonneschauernd,

An den Busen ihr sank.

Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigenden Tannenhains Erblick' ich behend dich, Scheitel der Ewigkeit, Blendender Gipfel, von dessen Höhe

Ahndend mein Geist ins unendliche schwebet!

Wer senkte den Pfeiler tief in der Erde Schooss,
Der, seit Jahrtausenden, fest deine Masse stützt?
Wer thürmte hoch in des Aethers Wölbung
Mächtig und kühn dein umstrahltes Antlitz?

Wer goss Euch hoch aus der ewigen Winter's Reich,
O Zackenströme, mit Donnergetös herab?
Und wer gebietet laut mit der Allmacht Stimme;
"Hier sollen ruhen die starrenden Wogen?"

Wer zeichnet dort dem Morgensterne die Bahn?
Wer kränzt mit Blüthen des ewigen Frostes Saum?
Wem tönt in schrecklichen Harmonieen,

Wilder Arveiron dein Wogentümmel?

Jehovah Jehovah ! kracht's im berstenden Eis;
Lavinendonner rollen's die Kluft hinab:

Jehovah rauscht's in den hellen Wipfeln,
Flüstert's an reiselnden Silberbächen.

PAGE 376.

"Gently I took that which ungently came,'

Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. February 3rd, Stanza 30.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

IT

may

TO NATURE.

indeed be phantasy, when I

Essay to draw from all created things

Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.

So let it be; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings

Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,

And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to thee,

Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

FAREWELL TO LOVE.

FAREWELL, Sweet Love! yet blame you

not my

truth;

More fondly ne'er did mother eye her child Than I your form; yours were my hopes of youth, And as you shaped my thoughts I sigh'd or smiled.

While most were wooing wealth, or gaily swerving
To pleasure's secret haunt, and some apart
Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving,
To you I gave my whole weak wishing heart.

And when I met the maid that realized

Your fair creations, and had won her kindness,
Say but for her if aught in earth I prized!
Your dreams alone I dreamt, and

blindness.

caught your

O grief! but farewell Love! I will go play me
With thoughts that please me less, and less betray me.*

-I YET remain

To mourn the hours of youth (yet mourn in vain)
That fled neglected: wisely thou hast trod
The better path-——and that high meed which God
Assign'd to virtue, tow'ring from the dust,
Shall wait thy rising, spirit pure and just!

God! how sweet it were to think, that all
Who silent mourn around this gloomy hall
Might hear the voice of joy ;-but 'tis the will
Of man's great author, that, through good and ill,
Calm he should hold his course, and so sustain
His varied lot of pleasure, toil and pain!

From "Letters," &c., of S. T. Coleridge.