View From The Top Of Black Comb

THIS Height a ministering Angel might select: For from the summit of BLACK COMB (dread name Derived from clouds and storms!) the amplest range Of unobstructed prospect may be seen That British ground commands:--low dusky tracts, Where Trent is nursed, far southward! Cambrian hills To the south-west, a multitudinous show; And, in a line of eye-sight linked with these, The hoary peaks of Scotland that give birth To Tiviot's stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde:-- Crowding the quarter whence the sun comes forth Gigantic mountains rough with crags; beneath, Right at the imperial station's western base Main ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched Far into silent regions blue and pale;-- And visibly engirding Mona's Isle That, as we left the plain, before our sight Stood like a lofty mount, uplifting slowly (Above the convex of the watery globe) Into clear view the cultured fields that streak Her habitable shores, but now appears A dwindled object, and submits to lie At the spectator's feet.--Yon azure ridge, Is it a perishable cloud? Or there Do we behold the line of Erin's coast? Land sometimes by the roving shepherdswain (Like the bright confines of another world) Not doubtfully perceived.--Look homeward now! In depth, in height, in circuit, how serene The spectacle, how pure!--Of Nature's works, In earth, and air, and earth-embracing sea, A revelation infinite it seems; Display august of man's inheritance, Of Britain's calm felicity and power!