Daily Republican., 1879-03-18
THE PHANTOM OF THE NOUN
TAIN.
CHARLES W. CRoAsDALE.


A cot amidst the mountain ferns. where fash
| ing slbres bright
From Heavens lofty attitude now cleave the
air Of night,
Where mellow light, shed from an orb, now
skins the darksOme lea,
To bathe In lustre, one whose tones are like
the muffied sea,
70 strike in twain like glistening Steel the
realms enshrOuded there,
And shed glow athwart sprite ofanimated
Where life hath fed like steed pursued across
Or pAsnse% ,1ass :sp BY isvan. CLEAN acros, the
mutiied main.
Now shrinks within dell of gloom, where
murmurs dull and dread
Come trembling forth like Autumn leaves,
which death makes dark anu scar;
A creaking easement lends It's tones to aid tho
evening blast
In drawing sounds from natures breast when
daily Joys are past,
As keeAly as one feels the pangs Of bitter
earthly grief,
There barbs a'c 70 ielt BY the pale hues OF the
lone quiv'tny Leaf.
A fake Of air dispels tho beam. Now watch
the golden light
Us from eight
OF him whose deep sepulchral tones now add a
deeper bass
To moaning winds that DER the mead ne 'cr
find Q resting place,
Or which to nestle; and speak words that un.
to daisits sweet
Paint pictures Of the neither world that dashes
past our feet.
Now cast thine eyes through broken pane and
bid thy heart and breath
BE sileut, as the lonely tomb which bears the
shade Of death,
For in that room, deserted now, q spirit walks
supreme,
His realm ir darkness In the dale, and now, o
list! His theme
Is deep, and great, and drear. II tells how
oft rem0rseless man,
From rank, ana wealth. and sin is swept from
earth before lie can
Grasp at the reeds that skirt the bank where
crawling sands are slow.
But sure In moving wretchedness to endless
pain or woe,
The stars may dassle In their orbs, and smite
tho air on high,
The cold bleak Alps may thrust their peaks
Or moon may soar DER PEASANTS head and sit
on esrth's high throne,
All, all may be, but nought to me, ask to
reign a'one.
No breath now ''lrs the midnight air awe one
TO man unknown.
blast the Toys Of mortal bliss by every sigh
That leaps from spectres wful form and min
gles with tho blast,
Whose eyerchanging, si,spelesS form Is never
never past.
The castles Of the king are mine, tread their
marble floor,
Where men, who scale huge battements or
bathc la flowing gore,
Now quail ut shadows In the night, and bow
in dire des AT.
When 1, gnome in lucent garb, ilIumlne the
sUMbr0us air.
Is 1t a charm with dagger point that bruises
the thread Of life
In RANK ling breast, meath smOthcred breath
where passiea blasts pure life,
Whore fear bids heart oftrembling flesh cringe
low to him smpreme,
Or do tiaunt 10 brain Of just tho midnight Of
dream"
1t may be the SOL of air with keen, majestic
gaZo
MsS es consoiemce shudder as she dwelIs on
deeds of iormer days,
Aad grasp her burden and descend 10 surtet
earth's Geld hearts,
Where freedom crushed by stains OF guilt re-
clines, ere she departs
From tyrnni's bands Of adamant to cImes
where kie IL tree
As lambert winds that pierce the pines, or
foam tkat on the sea
Shoots snowy flakes DER the dreaded deep by
each pearl.drop Of spray
That falls Nike down on oceans wave when
sunbeams clothe the day.