THE INDIAN PASS. 35 



daguerreotjped on my heart. It frowns on my vision 

 in my solitary hours, and with feelings half of sym- 

 pathy, I think of it standing there in its lonely ma- 

 jesty. 



" Has not the soul, the being of your life, 

 Received a shock of awful consciousness, 

 In some calm season, when those lofty rocks. 

 At night's approach, bring down th' unclouded sky 

 To rest upon the circumambient walls ; 

 A temple framing of dimensions vast, 

 And yet not too enormous for the sound 

 Of human anthems, choral song, or burst 

 Sublime of instrumental harmony. 

 To glorify th' Eternal ! What if these 

 Did never break the stillness that prevails 

 Here — if the solemn nightingale be mute, 

 And the soft woodlark here did never chant 

 Her vespers ! Nature fails not to provide 

 Impvilse and utterance. The whispering air 

 Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights, 

 And blind recesses of the cavern'd rocks ; 

 The little rills and waters numberless. 

 Insensible by daylight, blend their notes 

 With the loud streams ; and often at the hour 

 When issue forth the first pale stars, is heard, 

 Within the circuit of the fabric huge, 



. One voice — one solitary raven, flying 

 Athwart the concave of the dark blue dome, 

 Unseen — perchance above the power of sight — 

 An iron knell ! with echoes from afar, 

 Faint and still fainter/' 



I will only add that none of the drawings or paint- 

 ings I have seen of this Pass give a correct idea of it. 

 We turned our steps homeward, and reached the 



