She struck where the white and fleecy waves But the cruel rocks, they gored her side, Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, At day-break, on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair, The salt sea was frozen on her breast, And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! Longfellow. EXCELSIOR. The shades of night were falling fast, His brow was sad; his eye beneath The accents of that unknown tongue, In happy homes he saw the light Excelsior! Try not the Pass!" the old man said, "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! "O stay!" the maiden said, "and rest "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche !" This was the peasant's last good-night! A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior! At break of day, as heavenward A voice cried through the startled air, A traveller, by the faithful hound, There, in the twilight cold and grey, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior! Longfellow. SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light, They gathered mid-way round the wooded height, And, in their fading glory, shone Like hosts in battle overthrown, As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the grey mist thrust up its shattered lance, And rocking on the cliff was left The dark pine, blasted, bare, and cleft. Where upward, in the mellow blush of day, I heard the distant waters dash, I saw the current whirl and flash, And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills; And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills, Was ringing to the merry shout, That faint and far the glen sent out, Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke, Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke. If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills!-No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. Longfellow. |