The Torrent
OH torrent, roaring in thy giant fall,
And thund'ring grandly o'er th' opposing blocks,
Thy voice, far louder than the lion's call,
Through trackless forests shakes the heart of rocks,
Runs through the marrow of the earth with shocks,
Lashes the clouds with terror, for they fly
Along the high wide blue with streaming locks,
And round thee foam white dazzling flashes high
And with forked water-flames half licks the central sky.
Oh, what a storm of waters! Oh, what chasms
Of foam! what seething hills! what whirling rain!
Billows on billows press, though torn by spasms;
Wounded and bleeding, yet defying pain!
They grappled with the stones, that gnash in vain
Their cruel teeth, for smarting wounds they brave,
And toss in scorn their wildly flowing mane,
When with exulting cries big wave on wave
Rolls with a mighty sweep o'er a slain foeman's grave.
Roll on, great torrent, with triumphal song,
Through caverned cliff, through rock and mountain roll;
Force all the barriers that around thee throng,
Thou know'st th' eternal ocean for thy goal.
Hence thine impetuous rush, and roar, and roll;
Hence thy wild heavings as thou flow'st amain;
Hence thy far-reaching and tempestuous call
For stream and river, brook and rill and rain,
Thou on thy Titan breast would'st carry to the main.
Roll on! The heavens are with thee, for they fling
Their lovely rainbows round thy gleaming brow;
Rainbows, that like the crown of heroes cling
For ever round thee with their magic glow;
Or like the wondrous halo which will flow
Around the martyr's head; for those sweet hues,
They hover round thee in thy weal and woe,
Like love, that with its tender tears bedews
And heals the bitter pain of ev'ry earthly bruise!
Roll on! with a white heat upon thy way!
Lo yon, a little tiny woodland bird
Flits on wet wing through all the surf and spray,
And settles on a jagged rock unscared,
Round whose grim base a billowy din is heard;
A bright amazèd ray from its black eyes
It darts around, and listens not afeared--
Then diamond-powdered to the woods it flies,
And sings to forest ears the mighty melodies.
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poem by Mathilde Blind
Added by Poetry Lover
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