LANDSCAPE 293 



And in the narrow rent, at every turn, 



Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, 



The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, 



The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, 



Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside 



As if a voice were in them, the sick sight 



And giddy prospect of the raving stream, 



The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens, 



Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light 



Were all like workings of one mind, the features 



Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, 



Characters of the great Apocalypse, 



The types and symbols of Eternity, 



Of first, and last, and midst, and without end. 



For the sake of comparison, here are two passages from Gray's 

 letters, one describing the ascent to the Grande Chartreuse, 

 the other the descent of the Mont Cenis : 



It is six miles to the top ; the road runs winding up it, commonly 

 not six feet broad ; on one hand is the rock, with woods of pine 

 trees hanging overhead ; on the other a monstrous precipice, almost 

 perpendicular, at the bottom of which rolls a torrent, that sometimes 

 tumbling among the fragments of stone that have fallen from on high, 

 and sometimes precipitating itself down vast descents with a noise like 

 thunder, which is still made greater by the echo from the mountains 

 on each side, concurs to form one of the most solemn, the most 

 romantic, and the most astonishing scenes I ever beheld. Add to this 

 the strange views made by the crags and cliffs on the other hand ; 

 the cascades that in many places throw themselves from the very 

 summit down into the vale, and the river below ; and many other 

 particulars impossible to describe ; you will conclude we had no occasion 

 to repent our pains. 



It was six miles to the top, where a plain opens itself about as many 

 more in breadth, covered perpetually with very deep snow, and in the 

 midst of that a great lake of unfathomable depth, from whence a river 

 takes its rise, and tumbles over monstrous rocks quite down the other 

 side of the mountain. The descent is six miles more, but infinitely more 

 steep than the going up ; and here the men perfectly fly down with you, 

 stepping from stone to stone with incredible swiftness in places where 

 none but they could go three paces without falling. The immensity of 

 the precipices, the roaring of the river and torrents that run into it, the 

 huge crags covered with ice and snow, and the clouds below you and 



