Thy billows mock us with their tempest glee,
As thundering on, while countless ages roll,
Thou scornest man’s applause alike with man’s control!
Yet standing here where mountain eagles soar,
Among these toppling crags, to plant their nest,
I catch an inspiration from thy roar,
Which will not let my spirit be at rest.
I cast me down upon the massive breast
Of this huge rock, that lifts to meet the blast,
Far, far above thy foam, his granite crest,