THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK.

The sun-beams streak the azure skies,

And line with light the mountain's brow:

With hounds and horns the hunters rise,

And chase the roebuck thro’ the snow.

From rock to rock, with giant-bound,

High on their iron poles they pass;

Mute, lest the air, convuls'd by sound,

Rend from above a frozen mass.

The goats wind slow their wonted way,

Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;

Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey,

From desert cave or hanging wood.

And while the torrent thunders loud,

And as the echoing cliffs reply,

The huts peep o'er the morning-cloud,

Perch'd, like an eagle's nest, on high.