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lirik lagu snowdon by john jenkins - bart wolffe

king of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow
thou rearest in the clouds, as if to mock
the littleness of human things below;
the tempest cannot harm thee, and the shock
of the deep thunder falls upon thy head
as the light footfalls of an infant’s tread

the livid lightning’s all destroying flame
has flashed upon thee harmlessly, the rage
of savage storms have left thee still the same;
thou art imperishable! age after age
thou hast endured; aye, and for evermore
thy form shall be as changeless as before

the works of man shall perish and decay
cities shall crumble down to dust, and all
their “gorgeous palaces” shall pass away;
even their lofty monuments shall fall;
and a few scattered stones be all to tell
the place where once they stood,—where since they fell!

yet, even time has not the power to shiver
one single fragment from thee; thou shalt be
a monument that shall exist for ever!
while the vast world endures in its immensity
the eternal snows that gather on thy brow
shall diadem thy crest, as they do now
thy head is wrapt in mists, yet still thou gleam’st
at intervals, from out the clouds, that are
a glorious canopy, in which thou seem’st
to shroud thy many beauties; now afar
thou glitterest in the sun, and dost unfold
thy giant form, in robes of burning gold

p. 24and, when the red day dawned upon thee, oh! how bright
thy mighty form appeared! a thousand dies
shed o’er thee all the brilliance of their light
catching their hues from the o’er~arching skies
that seemed to play around thee, like a dress
sporting around some form of loveliness

and when the silver moonbeams on thee threw
their calm and tranquil light, thou seem’st to be
a thing so wildly beautiful to view
so wrapt in strange unearthly mystery
that the mind feels an awful sense of fear
when gazing on thy form, so wild and drear

the poet loves to gaze upon thee when
no living soul is near, and all are gone
wooing their couches for soft sleep; for then
the poet feels that he is least alone,—
holding communion with the mighty dead
whose viewless shadows flit around thy head
say, does the spirit of some warrior bard
with unseen form, float on the misty air
as if intent thy sacred heights to guard?
or does he breathe his mournful murmurs there
as if returned to earth, once more to dwell
on the dear spot he ever lov’d so well

perhaps some druid form, in awful guise
with words of wond’rous import, there may range
making aloud mysterious sacrifice
with gestures incommunicably strange
praying to the gods he worshipped, to restore
his dear lov’d cymru to her days of yore

or does thy harp, oh, hoel! sound its strings
with chords of fire proclaim thy country’s praise;
and he of “flowing song’s” wild murmurings
breathe forth the music of his warrior lays;
and davydd, caradoc—a glorious band—
tune their wild harps to praise their mountain land?

p. 25thou stand’st immovable, and firmly fixed
as cambria’s sons in battle, when they met
the roman legions, and their weapons mixed
and clash’d as bravely as they can do yet
the saxon, dane, and norman, knew them well
and found them—as they are—invincible!
majestic snowdon! proudly dost thou stand
like a tall giant ready for the fray
the guardian bulwark of thy mountain land;
old as the world thou art! as i survey
thy lofty altitude, strange feelings rise
of the unutterable mind’s wild sympathies

thou hast seen many changes, yet hast stood
unaltered to the last, remained the same
even in the wildness of thy solitude
even in thy savage grandeur; and thy name
acts as a spell on cambria’s sons, that brings
their heart’s best blood to flow in rapid springs

and must i be the only one to sing
thy dear loved name? and must the task be mine
to the insensate mind thy name to bring?
oh! how i grieve to think, when songs divine
have echoed to thy praises night and day
i can but offer thee so poor a lay

- lirik lagu snowdon by john jenkins

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