The wreathing clouds are fleeting fast,
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Deep shade upon the hills they cast, While through their openings ever show Enormous pyramids of snow; Scarce can you tell in middle air
If cloud or mountain rises there, Yet may you mark the glittering light That glances from the glaciered height; And you may mark the shades that sever The throne where winter sits for ever,
The avalancheʼs thunder rolling, No summer heat his reign controlling; The gloomy tyrant in his pride Spreads his dominion far and wide, Till, set with many an icy gem,
You might have thought it, moaning by, Wail for the loss of liberty; For high the rocks whose mighty screen Confined the narrow pass between, And many a mass of granite grey
Opposed the torrentʼs forceful way; So headlong rushed the lightning tide, No pass was there for aught beside; And we high oʼer those cliffs so sheer Must climb the mountain barrier,
So fairy‐like, could harbour there; For fields of bending corn there grew Close to the glacierʼs wintry blue; And saw we the same sun‐ray shine On pasture gay and mountain pine,
Whose dark and spiry forests rose Till mingled with eternal snows That climbed into the clear blue sky In peaked, impending majesty. ʼTis passing strange that such a place
Nor dared the mountain ridge that bound That lovely vale with terrors round; That lived secluded from mankind, Contented yet in heart and mind; That lived within that world alone,
A world of beauty of their own.
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And now Helvetiaʼs cliffy reign Contains not in her Alpine chain, In valley deep, on mountain high, A race like those of Chamouni;
For they have loved, at dawn of day, To trace the chamoisʼ fearful way, Or on the toppling shelf of snow With crags above and clouds below; Or on the peak whose spiry head
Is beetling oʼer abysses dread, Where place for foot, and grasp for hand, Is all the hunter can command; Or on the glacierʼs rigid wave Where he may find a chasmy grave;
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