ath ta'en his stand:
For here not one, but many, make their play
And fling their thunderbolts from hand to hand,
Flashing and cast around: of all the band,
The brightest through these parted hills hath forked
His lightnings; as if he did understand
That in such gaps as desolation worked,
There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurked.

Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye,
With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
To make these felt and feeling, well may be
Things that have made me watchful; the far roll
Of your departing voices is the knoll
Of what in me is sleepless,--if I rest.
But where of ye, O tempests! is the goal?
Are ye like those within the human breast?
Or do ye find at length, like eagles, some high nest?

THE OCEAN

From 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage'

But I forgot: my Pilgrim's shrine is won,
And he and I must part;--so let it be:
His task and mine alike are nearly done;
Yet once more let us look upon the sea:
The midland ocean breaks on him and me,
And from the Alban Mount we now behold
Our friend of youth, that ocean, which when we
Beheld it last by Calpe's rock unfold
Those waves, we followed on till the dark Euxine rolled

Upon the blue Symplegades: long years--
Long, though not very many--since have done
Their work on both; much suffering and some tears
Have left us nearly where we had begun:
Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run,--
We have had our reward, and it is here;
That we can yet feel gladdened by the sun,
Can reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dear
As if there were no man to trouble what is clear.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair Spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her!
Ye Elements!--in whose ennobling stir
I feel myself exalted--can ye not
Accord me such a being? Do I err
In deeming such inhabit many a spot?
Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the