96 97 98 For here, not one, but many, make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around; of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills 99 hath fork'd His lightnings, -as if he did understand That in such gaps as desolation work'd, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd. Sky, mountains, rivers, winds, lake, lightning! ye! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful; Of your departing voices, is the knoll1 Are ye like those within the human Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest? Could I embody and unbosom now My thoughts upon expression, and thus Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, All that I would have sought, and all Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe-into101 one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword. The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, And glowing into day: we may resume The march of our existence: and thus I, 1 knell Mortals, who sought and found, by dangerous roads, A path to perpetuity of fame: They were gigantic minds, and their steep aim Was, Titan-like, on daring doubts to pile Thoughts which should call down thunder, and the flame Of Heaven again assail'd, if Heaven the while On man and man's research could deign do more than smile. The one was fire and fickleness,1 a child, Historian, bard, philosopher, combined: |