In undisturbed and lone serenity,
Finding itself a solemn sanctuary
In the profound of heaven! It stands before us
A mount of snow, fretted with golden pinnacles!
The very sun, as though he worshipped there,
Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs!
And down the long and branching porticoes,
On every flowery sculptured capital
Glitters the homage of his parting beams.
By Hercules! the sight might almost win