28 AN ANGLER'S RAMBLES 



c. 



The voices which from steep to steep 

 Call, when the storm-breath stirs the deep, 



And winds and waters wrestle ; 

 The silences profound which brood 

 Upon the mountain solitude, 



And in the hollows nestle ; 



ci. 



The wonder and amaze which dwell 

 With the sublime and terrible, 



On edge of chasms wide-yawning ; 

 On brink of precipice, round which 

 Lie coil'd, in luring folds and rich, 



The mist-bands of the dawning. 



cm. 



Freely concede we to the North, 

 And its displays of savage worth, 



Pre-eminence in splendour ; 

 The glory which is rapt and free 

 From taint of gross humanity, 



The excellence of grandeur ! 



en. 



Our valleys are but tame to hers 

 Our summits stoled in minnivers, 



With her rough fronts contrasted ; 

 We have few lakes whereof to vaunt ; 

 Our torrents hold no summer chant, 



Nor rave through forests blasted. 



