With thought of weakness there, where cannon frowned
At Zabaldíca, raised Destruction’s sound;
But vain its poise ’gainst that enormous height,
His shot from lower crags doth back rebound.
Powerless his ordnance for Titanian fight,
’Tis Nature’s storm-artillery ushers in the Night!
XXXVII.
Dumb be your voices while the thunder-chime
Peals from Pyrene’s turrets, echoing far.
While roar the elements with rage sublime,