Can they be the very mountains that we looked at, you and I?
One long wavy line of purple painted on the sunset sky;
With the new moon's edge just touching that dark rim, like
dancer's foot,
Or young Dian's, on the hill-side for Endymion waiting mute.
O how golden was that even!—O how balm the summer air!
How the bridegroom sky bent loving o'er its earth so virgin fair!
How the earth looked up to heaven like a bride with joy oppressed,
In her thankfulness half-weeping that she was thus overblest!
Ghostly mountains! 'Silence—silence!' now is aye your soundless
voice,
Lifted in an awful patience o'er the world's uproarious noise;
O'er its jarrings and its greetings—o'er its loving and its
hate—
Silence! Bare thy brows all dumbly to the snows of heaven,
and—wait!'
Just Published,
Price 2s. 6d. sewed, 3s. Cloth Boards,
LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS.—Volume III. Edited by Robert Chambers. To be completed in Four Volumes.
Price 6d. Paper Cover,
CHAMBERS'S POCKET MISCELLANY.—Volume II. To be continued in Monthly Volumes.