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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478229" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br> The everlasting universe of things <br> Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,<br> Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--<br> Now lending splendour, where from secret springs<br> The source of human thought its tribute brings<br> Of waters--with a sound but half its own,<br> Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,<br> In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,<br> Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,<br> Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river<br> Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.<br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thus thou, Ravine of Arve--dark, deep Ravine--<br> Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale,<br> Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail<br> Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene,<br> Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down<br> From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne,<br> Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame<br> Of lightning through the tempest;--thou dost lie,<br> Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging,<br> Children of elder time, in whose devotion<br> The chainless winds still come and ever came<br> To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging<br> To hear--an old and solemn harmony;<br> Thine earthly rainbows stretch'd across the sweep<br> Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil<br> Robes some unsculptur'd image; the strange sleep<br> Which when the voices of the desert fail<br> Wraps all in its own deep eternity;<br> Thy caverns echoing to the Arve's commotion,<br> A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame;<br> Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion,<br> Thou art the path of that unresting sound--<br> Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee<br> I seem as in a trance sublime and strange<br> To muse on my own separate fantasy,<br> My own, my human mind, which passively<br> Now renders and receives fast influencings,<br> Holding an unremitting interchange<br> With the clear universe of things around;<br> One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings<br> Now float above thy darkness, and now rest<br> Where that or thou art no unbidden guest,<br> In the still cave of the witch Poesy,<br> Seeking among the shadows that pass by<br> Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee,<br> Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast<br> From which they fled recalls them, thou art there!<br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Some say that gleams of a remoter world<br> Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber,<br> And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber<br> Of those who wake and live.--I look on high;<br> Has some unknown omnipotence unfurl'd<br> The veil of life and death? or do I lie<br> In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep<br> Spread far around and inaccessibly<br> Its circles? For the very spirit fails,<br> Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep<br> That vanishes among the viewless gales!<br> Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,<br> Mont Blanc appears--still, snowy, and serene;<br> Its subject mountains their unearthly forms<br> Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between<br> Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,<br> Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread<br> And wind among the accumulated steeps;<br> A desert peopled by the storms alone,<br> Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,<br> And the wolf tracks her there--how hideously<br> Its shapes are heap'd around! rude, bare, and high,<br> Ghastly, and scarr'd, and riven.--Is this the scene<br> Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young<br> Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea<br> Of fire envelop once this silent snow?<br> None can reply--all seems eternal now.<br> The wilderness has a mysterious tongue<br> Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,<br> So solemn, so serene, that man may be,<br> But for such faith, with Nature reconcil'd;<br> Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal<br> Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood<br> By all, but which the wise, and great, and good<br> Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.<br>IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,<br> Ocean, and all the living things that dwell<br> Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,<br> Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,<br> The torpor of the year when feeble dreams<br> Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep<br> Holds every future leaf and flower; the bound<br> With which from that detested trance they leap;<br> The works and ways of man, their death and birth,<br> And that of him and all that his may be;<br> All things that move and breathe with toil and sound<br> Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.<br> Power dwells apart in its tranquillity,<br> Remote, serene, and inaccessible:<br> And this, the naked countenance of earth,<br> On which I gaze, even these primeval mountains<br> Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep<br> Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains,<br> Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice<br> Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power<br> Have pil'd: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle,<br> A city of death, distinct with many a tower<br> And wall impregnable of beaming ice.<br> Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin<br> Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky<br> Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing<br> Its destin'd path, or in the mangled soil<br> Branchless and shatter'd stand; the rocks, drawn down<br> From yon remotest waste, have overthrown<br> The limits of the dead and living world,<br> Never to be reclaim'd. The dwelling-place<br> Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil;<br> Their food and their retreat for ever gone,<br> So much of life and joy is lost. The race<br> Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling<br> Vanish, like smoke before the tempest's stream,<br> And their place is not known. Below, vast caves<br> Shine in the rushing torrents' restless gleam,<br> Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling<br> Meet in the vale, and one majestic River,<br> The breath and blood of distant lands, for ever<br> Rolls its loud waters to the ocean-waves,<br> Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air.<br>V</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:--the power is there,<br> The still and solemn power of many sights,<br> And many sounds, and much of life and death.<br> In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,<br> In the lone glare of day, the snows descend<br> Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there,<br> Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,<br> Or the star-beams dart through them. Winds contend<br> Silently there, and heap the snow with breath<br> Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home<br> The voiceless lightning in these solitudes<br> Keeps innocently, and like vapour broods<br> Over the snow. The secret Strength of things<br> Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome<br> Of Heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!<br> And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,<br> If to the human mind's imaginings<br> Silence and solitude were vacancy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Percy+Bysshe+Shelley">Percy Bysshe Shelley</a><div class=q>
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 The everlasting universe of things 
 Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
 Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
 Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
 The source of human thought its tribute brings
 Of wate..."></div>
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