But this might not long endure,
Where the mountain-homes were pure;
And a valiant voice arose,
Thrilling all the silent snows;
His—now singing far and lone,
Where the young breeze ne’er was known;
Singing of the glad blue sky,
Wildly—and how mournfully!
Are none but the Wind and the Lammer-Geyer
To be free where the hills unto heaven aspire?