Page:Tales and Historic Scenes.pdf/71

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And the lone wanderer now hath reach'd the source Whence the wave gushes, foaming on its course. But there he pauses—for the lonely scene Towers in such dread magnificence of mien, And, mingled oft with some wild eagle's cry, From rock-built eyrie rushing to the sky, So deep the solemn and majestic sound Of forests, and of waters murmuring round, That, rapt in wondering awe, his heart forgets Its fleeting struggles, and its vain regrets. —What earthly feeling, unabash'd, can dwell In Nature's mighty presence?—midst the swell Of everlasting hills, the roar of floods, And frown of rocks, and pomp of waving woods? These their own grandeur on the soul impress, And bid each passion feel its nothingness.

Midst the vast marble cliffs, a lofty cave Rears its broad arch beside the rushing wave; Shadow'd by giant oaks, and rude, and lone, It seems the temple of some power unknown, Where earthly being may not dare intrude To pierce the secrets of the solitude.