124 
ON THE MOUNTAIN-SUMMIT, 
powder of the hoar-frost. The storms and avalanches which overthrow' 
the rocks awaken in it no sensations of terror. Under the breath of 
the terrible giant, in his ice-bristling beard and formidable frown, it, 
the little one, flies daringly, as if conscious that this king of the ever¬ 
lasting winters would hesitate to destroy the last winged flower of love 
which, in his realm of death, preserves for him a reflection of heaven. 
