But now with other mind I stand alone
  Upon the summit of this naked cone,
  And watch the fearless chamois-hunter chase 305
  His prey, through tracts abrupt of desolate space, [82]
  [T] Through vacant worlds where Nature never gave
  A brook to murmur or a bough to wave,
  Which unsubstantial Phantoms sacred keep;
  Thro’ worlds where Life, and Voice, and Motion sleep; 310
  Where silent Hours their death-like sway extend,
  Save when the avalanche breaks loose, to rend
  Its way with uproar, till the ruin, drowned
  In some dense wood or gulf of snow profound,
  Mocks the dull ear of Time with deaf abortive sound. [83] 315
 —­’Tis his, while wandering on from height to height,
  To see a planet’s pomp and steady light
  In the least star of scarce-appearing night;
  While the pale moon moves near him, on the bound
  Of ether, shining with diminished round, [84] 320
  And far and wide the icy summits blaze,
  Rejoicing in the glory of her rays: 
  To him the day-star glitters small and bright,
  Shorn of its beams, insufferably white,
  And he can look beyond the sun, and view 325
  Those fast-receding depths of sable blue
  Flying till vision can no more pursue! [85]
 —­At once bewildering mists around him close,
  And cold and hunger are his least of woes;
  The Demon of the snow, with angry roar 330
  Descending, shuts for aye his prison door. 
  Soon with despair’s whole weight his spirits sink;
  Bread has he none, the snow must be his drink;
  And, ere his eyes can close upon the day, [86]
  The eagle of the Alps o’ershades her prey. 335

   Now couch thyself where, heard with fear afar, [87]
  Thunders through echoing pines the headlong Aar;
  Or rather stay to taste the mild delights
  Of pensive Underwalden’s [U] pastoral heights. 
 —­Is there who ’mid these awful wilds has seen 340
  The native Genii walk the mountain green? 
  Or heard, while other worlds their charms reveal,
  Soft music o’er [88] the aerial summit steal? 
  While o’er the desert, answering every close,
  Rich steam of sweetest perfume comes and goes. 345
 —­And sure there is a secret Power that reigns
  Here, where no trace of man the spot profanes,
  Nought but the chalets, [V] flat and bare, on high
  Suspended ’mid the quiet of the sky;
  Or distant herds that pasturing upward creep, 350
  And, not untended, climb the dangerous steep. [89]
  How still! no irreligious sound or sight
  Rouses the soul from her severe delight. 
  An idle voice the sabbath region fills
  Of Deep that calls to Deep across the hills, 355
  And with that voice accords the soothing