112
TO AN ECHO IN SNOWDON.
And filled thy thousand hills with melody!
Mirror of sound! as ocean is of heaven,
(Its depths with sun and shade and storm engraven,
And tiny star and cloudy canopy!)
The earth, the sea, the palace, and the tomb
Teem with the marks of human pride;
How holy then is the melodious gloom
Of thy sweet oracle to none denied!
Floating to heav’n along the mountain air,
Like angel hosts that ever wait to bear
Before the throne of God the humblest infant’s prayer!
