Mount through the nearer mist the chant of birds,
And talking voices, and the low of herds,
The bark of dogs, the drowsy tinkling bell,
And wild-wood mountain lutes of saddest swell.’
“But this extract is not to be compared for power to the following from the same poem, describing an Alpine sunset after a day of mist and storm upon the mountains.
“‘’Tis storm, and hid in mist from hour to hour,
All day the floods a deepening murmur pour.
The sky is vailed, and every cheerful sight,
Dark is the region as with coming night,
But what a sudden burst of overpowering light