2
A SHEAF GLEANED
Sonnet.—THE PYRENEES
Frenchman! Stop there, nor pass that open plain.
Girdled with rocks by Nature, on one side,
Cut by the Auriège with its rushing tide,
And dowered with beauty like a queen to reign.
What thou beholdest is no mountain-chain,
That is Briareus, towering up in pride
To guard the vale and sharply to divide
Spain from fair France, and France from swarthy Spain.
To each he tenders a fraternal hand,
And bears old Atlas' load upon his head;
His feet on two seas planted mark him stand!
His dark locks are the forests overspread;
His ribs the rocks, his sweat the rivers grand;
The fabled son of Cœlus is not dead.
