Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Ben Nevis

Ben Nevis.

We climb, we pant, we pause; again we climb;Frown not, stern mountain, nor around thee throwThy mist and storm, but look with cloudless browO'er all thy giant progeny sublime;While toiling up the immeasurable heightWe climb, we pant, we pause; the thickening gloomHath palled us in the darkness of the tomb:And on the hard-won summit sound nor sight Salutes us, save the snow and chilling blast,And all the guardian fiends of Winter's throne.Such too is life—ten thousand perils past,Our fame is vapour, and our mirth a groan.But patience; till the veil be rent away,And on our vision flash celestial day.