Treasure Island

Helen Maria Williams

(1761 - 15 December 1827 / England)

Hymn Written Among The Alps


CREATION'S GOD ! with thought elate,
Thy hand divine I see
Impressed on scenes, where all is great,
Where all is full of thee!

Where stern the Alpine mountains raise
Their heads of massive snow;
When on the rolling storm I gaze,
That hangs-how far below!

Where on some bold, stupendous height,
The Eagle sits alone;
Or soaring wings his sullen flight
To haunts still more his own:

Where the sharp rock the Chamois treads,
Or, slippery summit scales;
Or where the whitening Snow-bird spreads
Her plumes to icy gales:

Where the rude cliff's steep column glows
With morning's tint of blue;
Or evening on the glacier throws
The rose's blushing hue:

Or where by twilight's softer light,
The mountain's shadow bends;
And sudden casts a partial night,
As black its form descends:

Where the full ray of noon alone
Down the deep valley falls:
Or where the sunbeam never shone
Between its rifted walls:

Where cloudless regions calm the soul,
Bid mortal cares be still,
Can passion's wayward wish controul,
And rectify the will:

Where midst some vast expanse the mind,
Which swelling virtue fires,
Forgets that earth it leaves behind,
And to it's heaven aspires:

Where far along the desart air
Is heard no creature's call:
And undisturbing mortal ear
The avalanches fall:

Where rushing from their snowy source,
The daring torrents urge
Their loud-toned waters headlong course,
And lift their feathered surge:

Where swift the lines of light and shade
Flit o'er the lucid lake:
Or the shrill winds its breast invade,
And its green billows wake:

Where on the slope, with speckled dye
The pigmy herds I scan;
Or soothed, the scattered Chalets spy,
The last abode of man:

Or where the flocks refuse to pass,
And the lone peasant mows,
Fixed on his knees, the pendent grass,
Which down the steep he throws:

Where high the dangerous pathway leads
Above the gulph profound,
From whence the shrinking eye recedes,
Nor finds repose around:

Where red the mountain-ash reclines
Along the clifted rock;
Where firm the dark unbending pines
The howling tempests mock:

Where, level with the ice-ribb'd bound
The yellow harvests glow;
Or vales with purple vines are crown'd
Beneath impending snow:

Where the rich min'rals catch the ray,
With varying lustre bright,
And glittering fragments strew the way
With sparks of liquid light:

Or where the moss forbears to creep
Where loftier summits rear
Their untrod snow, and frozen sleep
Locks all the uncolour'd year:

In every scene, where every hour
Sheds some terrific grace,
In Nature's vast o'erwhelming power,
THEE , THEE , my GOD , I trace!

Submitted: Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Hymn Written Among The Alps by Helen Maria Williams )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]