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M. J. MACMAHON.
187
ZOURBERG MOUNTAINS.
Hail! land of drifting cloud and wooded wold,
Thy fairy scenes seem conjured by the hand
Of wizard king.Thy hills majestic stand
Aloft with time-bronzed brows searéd and old,
And heavenward fling their nodding peaks on high:
The breezy zephyrs rush careering free;
The eagle waves his wing of liberty.
Here Nature reigns in grand sublimity;
Far through the southern haze Old Ocean gleams
Silvered with sunlight foam, and mournfully
Heaves his wild arms—with words inspired he seems,
Mutt'ring a prologue to Eternity.
God of my soul, on earth such scenes we find,
Guiding from them to Thee the human mind.
M. J. MacMahon.
