Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/48

32 Jehovah's name: and the dissolving fires,

That wait the mandate of the day of doom

To wreck the earth, shall find it deep inscrib'd

Upon thy rocky scroll.

The lofty trees,

That list thy teachings, scorn the lighter lore

Of the too fitful winds; while their young leaves

Gather fresh greenness from thy living spray,

Yet tremble at the baptism. Lo! yon birds,

How bold they venture near, dipping their wing

In all thy mist and foam. Perchance 'tis meet

For them to touch thy garment's hem, or stir

Thy diamond wreath, who sport upon the cloud,

Unblam'd, or warble at the gate of heaven

Without reproof. But, as for us, it seems

Scarce lawful, with our erring lips, to talk

Familiarly of thee.—Methinks, to trace

Thine awful features, with our pencil's point,

Were but to press on Sinai.

Thou dost speak

Alone of God, who pour'd thee as a drop

From his right hand,—bidding the soul that looks

Upon thy fearful majesty be still,

Be humbly wrapp'd in its nothingness,

And lose itself in Him.