64 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
shine : but what was gained on one side was lost on 
another. It was like sitting in a chimney and waiting 
for the smoke to blow away. It was, in fact, a cloud- 
factory, — these were the cloud-works, and the wind 
turned them off done from the cool, bare rocks. Occa¬ 
sionally, when the windy columns broke in to me, I 
caught sight of a dark, damp crag to the right or left; 
the mist driving ceaselessly between it and me. It re¬ 
minded me of the creations of the old epic and dramatic 
poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the Cyclops, and Prometheus. 
Such was Caucasus and the rock where Prometheus was 
bound. AEschylus had no doubt visited such scenery as 
this. It was vast, Titanic, and such as man never in¬ 
habits. Some part of the beholder, even some vital 
part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his 
ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can 
imagine. There is less of substantial thought and fair 
understanding in him, than in the plains where men 
inhabit. His reason is dispersed and shadowy, more 
thin and subtile, like the air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman 
Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught him alone, 
and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty. She 
does not smile on him as in the plains. She seems to 
say sternly, why came ye here before your time ? This 
ground is not prepared for you. Is it not enough that I 
smile in the valleys ? I have never made this soil for 
thy feet, this air for thy breathing, these rocks for thy 
neighbors. I cannot pity nor fondle thee here, but for¬ 
ever relentlessly drive thee hence to where I am kind. 
Why seek me where I have not called thee, and then 
complain because you find me but a stepmother ? 
Shouldst thou freeze or starve, or shudder thy life 
away, here is no shrine, nor altar, nor any access to 
my ear. 
