EXCELSIOR.
The earnest traveller, who would feed his eye
To fullness of content on Nature's charms,
Must not forever pace the easy plain.
No! he must climb the rugged mountain's side,
Scale its steep rocks, cling to its crumbling crags,
Nor fear to plunge in it's eternal snows.
And yet, if he be wise, he will not choose
To find the doubtful way alone, lest night
O'ertake him wandering, and her icy breath
Chill him to marble; not alone will risk
His foot unwonted on the glassy bed
Of rifted glacier, lest a step amiss
Should hurl him headlong down some fissure dark,
That yawns unseen--thence to arise no more.
But, furnished with a trusty guide, he mounts
From peak to peak in safety, though with toil.
Once on the lofty summit, he beholds
A glory in earth's kingdom all undreamed
Till now. The heavy curtains are withdrawn,
That shut the old horizon down so close;
And, lo! a world is lying at his feet!
A world without a flaw! What late he held
But as discordant fragments, now show forth,
From this high vantage ground, the perfect parts
Of a harmonious whole! He would not dare
To change one line in all that picture marvellous
Of hill and vale, bright stream and rolling sea,
O'erhung by the great sun that gildeth all.
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