Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Sublime lyrics

To stand upon a windy pinnacle, Beneath the infinite blue of the blue noon, And underfoot a valley terrible As that dim gulf, where sense and being swoon When the soul parts; a giant valley strewn With giant rocks; asleep, and vast, and still, And far away. The torrent, which has hewn His pathway through the entrails of the hill, Now crawls along the bottom and anon Lifts up his voice, a muffled tremulous roar, Borne on the wind an instant, and then gone Back to the caverns of the middle air; A voice as of a nation overthrown With beat of drums, when hosts have marched to war.