Diminished to a speck, as splendid

And small as were those tongues of flame

  That on the Apostles’ heads descended!

 

’T was at this instant—while there glowed

  This last, intensest gleam of light—

Suddenly, through the opening road,

  The valley burst upon my sight!

That glorious valley, with its lake,

  And Alps on Alps in clusters swelling,

Mighty, and pure, and fit to make

  The ramparts of a Godhead’s dwelling!

 

I stood entranced and mute,—as they

  Of Israel think the assembled world

Will stand upon that awful day

  When the ark’s light, aloft unfurled,

Among the opening clouds shall shine,

Divinity’s own radiant sign!

Highly Mont Blanc! thou wert to me,

  That minute, with thy brow in heaven,

As sure a sign of Deity

  As e’er to mortal gaze was given.

Nor ever, were I destined yet

  To live my life twice o’er again,

Can I the deep-felt awe forget,—

  The ecstasy that thrilled me then!

 

’T was all that consciousness of power,

And life beyond this mortal hour,—

Those mountings of the soul within

At thoughts of Heaven,—as birds begin

By instinct in the cage to rise,

When near their time for change of skies,—

That proud assurance of our claim

  To rank among the Sons of Light,

Mingled with shame—O, bitter shame!—

  At having risked that splendid right

For aught that earth, through all its range

Of glories, offers in exchange!—

’T was all this, at the instant brought,

Like breaking sunshine, o’er my thought,—

’T was all this, kindled to a glow

  Of sacred zeal, which, could it shine

Thus purely ever, man might grow,

  Even upon earth, a thing divine,

And be once more the creature made

To walk unstained the Elysian shade!