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And round about; absorb’d, he heeded not
The death that threaten’d him.—I could not shoot;
’Twas li(illegible text)—I turned my bow aside,
And let him soar away!
Heavens, with what pride I used
To walk these hills, and look up to my God,
And bless him that it was so. It was free—
From end to end, from cliff to lake ’twas free!
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plough our valleys, without asking leave;
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow,
In very presence of the regal sun.
How happy was I then! I loved
Its very storms. Yes, Emma, I have sat
In my boat at night, when, midway o’er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o’er my head,
And think I had no master save his own.
You know the jutting cliff round which a track
Up thither winds, whose base is but the brow
To such another one, with scanty room
For two a-breast to pass? O’ertaken there
By the mountain blast, I’ve laid me flat along,
And while gust followed gust more furiously,
As if to sweep me o’er the horrid brink,
And I have thought of other lands, whose storms
Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just
Have wished me there—the thought that mine was free
Has check’d that wish, I have raised my head,
And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,
Blow on! This is the land of liberty!
