Page:Tales and Historic Scenes.pdf/69

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Still urges onward—undismay'd to tread Where life's fond lovers would recoil with dread; But fear is for the happy—they may shrink From the steep precipice, or torrent's brink; They to whom earth is paradise—their doom Lends no stern courage to approach the tomb: Not such his lot, who, school'd by fate severe, Were but too blest if aught remain'd to fear.38 Up the rude crags, whose giant-masses throw Eternal shadows o'er the glen below; And by the fall, whose many-tinctured spray Half in a mist of radiance veils its way, He holds his venturous track:—supported now By some o'erhanging pine or ilex bough; Now by some jutting stone, that seems to dwell Half in mid-air, as balanced by a spell: Now hath his footstep gain'd the summit's head, A level span, with emerald verdure spread, A fairy circle—there the heath-flowers rise, And the rock-rose unnoticed blooms and dies; And brightly plays the stream, ere yet its tide In foam and thunder cleave the mountain side; But all is wild beyond—and Hamet's eye Roves o'er a world of rude sublimity.