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Monarch of mountains! whose serenest brow,
O'er clouds and storms uplifted, courts the sky,
And gazes on the all-pervading eye,
To which, in heartfelt awe, wide nations bow,
As Him from whom their life and being flow,—
Monarch of mountains! at thy feet I lay
The tribute of my wonder, and there pay
The homage of a soul, to whom the bow
Of glory, that encircles thee when night
Comes on in iris-splendor, and thy height
Glows with unnumbered hues and seems on fire,
And o'er thy pure snows rolls a wave of light,—
To whom these glories are a high delight,
An inspiration, and a deep desire,
And would be heaven, could I but hear an angel's lyre.
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