Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/183

Rh

a pensive pilgrim at the foot Of the crown'd Alleghany, when he wrapp'd His purple mantle gloriously around, And took the homage of the princely hills, And ancient forests, as they bow'd them down, Each in his order of nobility. —And then, in glorious pomp, the sun retir'd Behind their solemn shadow. And his train Of crimson, and of azure and of gold Went floating up the zenith,—tint on tint, And ray on ray,—till all the concave caught His parting benediction. But the glow Faded to twilight, and dim twilight sank In deeper shade, and there that mountain stood In awful state, like dread ambassador 'Tween earth and heaven. Methought it frown'd severe, Upon the world beneath, and lifted up The accusing forehead sternly toward the sky To witness 'gainst its sins. And is it meet For thee, swell'd out in cloud-cap'd pinnacle To scorn thine own original, the dust That feebly eddying on the angry winds Doth sweep thy base? Say, is it meet for thee, Robing thyself in mystery, to impeach This nether sphere, from whence thy rocky root Draws depth and nutriment? But lo! a star The first meek herald of advancing night,