Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.
Christus: A MysteryPart II. The Golden Legend. V. III. The St. Gothard Pass
Leap down to different seas, and as they roll
Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence
Becomes a benefaction to the towns
They visit, wandering silently among them,
Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.
Grow on these rocks.
Beneficent Nature sends the mists to feed them.
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the snowy peaks! It seems to me
The body of St. Catherine, borne by angels!
Bear thee across these chasms and precipices,
Lest thou shouldst dash thy feet against a stone!
Upon angelic shoulders! Even now
I seem uplifted by them, light as air!
What sound is that?
The voices of the mountains! Thus they ope
Their snowy lips, and speak unto each other,
In the primeval language, lost to man.
How beautiful it is! It seems a garden
Of Paradise!
To thee and me, of passion and of prayer!
Yet once of Paradise. Long years ago
I wandered as a youth among its bowers
And never from my heart has faded quite
Its memory, that, like a summer sunset,
Encircles with a ring of purple light
All the horizon of my youth.
The days are short, the way before us long;
We must not linger, if we think to reach
The inn at Belinzona before vespers!