THE SPIRIT AND THE MOUNTAIN.

By Hannah Flagg Gould

Mountain, with thy firm old foot

Fast beside the sea,

What was in thy keeping put,

Prisoned under thee?

“Hark, and hear the shuddering ground!

Feel it rock and quake!

Struggling fires, beneath me bound,

Strive their chains to break.”

Mountain, with a cloudy vest

Girded o'er thy heart,

Does it pierce thine aged breast,

When its lightnings dart?

“No:— beneath me far, the crash

Of the bolt is felt:

Here, the fiery chain and flash

But adorn my belt.”

Mountain, with a snowy crown

Stainless on thy brow,

Wilt thou never cast it down —

Never, never bow?

“When the mandate I shall hear

From my Maker's throne,

I will bow and disappear,

Hence to be unknown.”

Mountain, holding proud and high

Thine old hoary head,

What is written on the sky,

Thou so long hast read?

“Brighter than the stars and sun

Shining over me,

I behold the name of ONE

Thou must die to see!”

Mountain, bold thine eloquence —

Glowing is thy speech;

Mighty import flashes thence;

What is it to teach?

“Thoughts of Him, before whose breath

I shall melt away;

While of thee, soul — spirit, death

Ne'er shall quench a ray!”