62 
AMBERGRIS 
And O !  most lone 
The melancholy mountains shrine and throne, 
While far above all things God sits, the ultimate alone ! 
 
III. 
I sate upon the mossy promontory 
Where the cascade cleft not his mother rock, 
But swept in whirlwind lightning foam and glory, 
Vast circling with unwearying luminous shock 
To lure and lock 
Marvellous eddies in its wild caress ; 
And there the solemn echoes caught the stress, 
The strain of that impassive tide, 
Shook it and flung it high and wide, 
Till all the air took fire from that melodious roar ; 
All the mute mountains heard, 
Bowed, laughed aloud, concurred, 
And passed the word along, the signal of wide war. 
All earth took up the sound, 
And, being in one tune securely bound, 
Even as a star became the soul of silence most profound. 
 
IV. 
Thus there, the centre of that death that darkened, 
I sat and listened, if God’s voice should break 
And pierce the hollow of my ear that hearkened, 
Lest God should speak and find me not awake— 
For his own sake. 
No voice, no song might pierce or penetrate 
That enviable universal state. 
The sun and moon beheld, stood still. 
Only the spirit’s axis, will, 
Considered its own soul and sought a deadlier deep, 
And in its monotone mood 
Of supreme solitude 
Was neither glad nor sad because it did not sleep ; 
But with calm eyes abode 
Patient, its leisure the galactic load, 
Abode alone, nor even rejoiced to know that it was God.