Far off, and half revealed ‘mid shade and light,
Blackcomb half smiles, half frowns; his mighty form
Scarce blending into peace; –more formed to fight
A thousand years of struggles with a storm
Than bask one hour, subdued by sunshine warm
To bright and breezeless rest; –yet even his height
Towers not o’er this world’s sympathies–he smiles,
While many a human heart to pleasure’s wiles
Can bear to bend, and still forget to rise;
As though he, huge and heath clad, on our sight,
Again rejoices in his stormy skies,
Man loses vigour in unstable joys.
Thus tempests find Blackcomb invincible,
While we are lost, who should know life so well!