Seeing what now I saw: for now ’twas day
And the bright Sun was in the firmament,
A thousand shadows of a thousand hues
Chequering the clear expanse. Awhile his orb
Hung o’er thy trackless fields of snow, Mont Blanc,
Thy seas of ice and ice-built promontories,
That change their shapes for ever as in sport;
Then traveled onward and went down behind
The pine-clad heights of Jura, lighting up
The woodman’s casement, and perchance his ax