DR. PALMER'S ODE 



Mountains on hoary mountains high, 

 O'ertop the sea-bird's loftiest flight : 



All bleak the air all bleached the sky 

 The pent-up, stiffen'd sea all white. 



Here Thulia lies, a bank of snow, 

 Each sail hung round with gelid frill ; 



Festooned with frost her graceful prow, 

 And every rope an icicle. 



Amid the fearful stillness round, 



Scarce broken by the wind's faint breezing, 

 Hist ! heard ye not that crackling sound ? 



That death-watch click the sea is freezing. 



They breathe not speak not murmur not ; 



But in each other's face they gaze, 

 While memory, fancy, tender thought, 



Turn sadly back to other days. 



Long years roll by in that wild dream 

 Long years of mingled joy and pain ; 



But like a meteor's erring gleam 



'T is gone there stands the ice again. 



The ice, the piles of ice, arrayed 

 In forms of awful grandeur still ; 



But all their terrors how they fade 

 Before proud man's sublimer will ! 



Uprise, all life, that gallant crew 



Prompt action echoing brief command : 



Each puny arm now nerved anew, 



With strength from His almighty hand. 



With straining oars and bending spars 

 They dash their icy chains asunder : 



Force frozen doors burst crystal bars 

 And drive the sparkling fragments under. 



In fitful gusts the rising winds 



Wake the still waste with hollow moan ; 

 While icebergs, like beleaguering fiends, 



Close up before and follow on. 



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