O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought; entranced in prayer, I worshiped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet, beguiling melody,-- So sweet we know not we are listening to it,-- Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy; Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing--there, As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven. Awake, my soul! Not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks, and silent ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! Green vales and icy cliffs! all join my hymn. Thou, first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale! O, struggling with the darkness of the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink,-- Companion of the morning star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald--wake! O wake! and utter praise! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? And you ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad! Who called you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns called you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jaggéd rocks, Forever shattered, and the same forever? Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam? And who commanded,--and the silence came,-- "Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest"?