VI.

Mountains! and huge hills! wrap your mighty forms Close with mantle of eternal cloud; Gather around ye the fierce band of storms; And let the stainless snow-drift be your shroud. Back from your rugged steeps, and caverns hoar Bellow in hoarse disdain the tempest's roar; Laugh at the rolling thunder; let the flash Of its fierce lightning lumine but your scorn; Down your deep-furrow'd slopes let torrents dash, And on the winds their hollow rage be borne. Ye mighty ones! Why should ye bow your pride, And doff your venerable crowns, or dress Your wrinkled brows in smiles, or lay aside The dread insignias of your mightiness!