Partly written in 1811
Summit of Mount Pindus
With what impatience do I spring to thee,
Eternal Nature; how I love to steal
From the rude jar and clamour of the world
To thy retirement, where I may compose
My ruffled brow, and lay my limbs secure,
And listen to the blast which howls afar.
O let me seek thy haunts upon the brow
Of Pindus, where thou dwell'st midst solitudes
Of stern sublimity: with slow, slow step.
Painfully press'd upon th' unyielding rock,
I scale its rugged steeps....there the pine
Stretches his giant limbs, scorch'd by the fires
Of Heav'n, and stands to guard yon narrow pass,
An aged warrior, cover'd o'er with wounds,
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