O'er mountains massed and magical.
Resplendent as a pearly tent,
Upon the fir-fringed battlement,
Serene in sunset gold and rose,
A pyramid of splendor glows,
So vast and calm and bright, your dream
Is dust and ashes in its gleam.
A maiden speaks—"He led us far—
It is the golden western star!"
And then a youth—"Our goal is won,—
'Tis the pavilion of the sun!"
A gray sage then, in undertone,
"It must be Hood, so grand and lone—
The shining citadel and throne
Of Terminus, that Roman god,
Who marked the line the legions trod,
And set the limits of the world,
Where Caesar's battle flags were furled!
O, for the dark-eyed prophetess
Who sang in Sinai's wilderness
The gilded chariots' overthrow,
To lead for us the cymballed song
To Him, the Merciful, the Strong,
Who dashed the brimming cup of woe
And was our cloud and flame so long!"
Forward! The crested mountains kneel
To patient toils of fire and steel—
A way is hewn, and you emerge
Upon the Cascades' frozen verge,
And far beneath you and away
To ocean's shining fringe of foam
Resplendent as a pearly tent,
Upon the fir-fringed battlement,
Serene in sunset gold and rose,
A pyramid of splendor glows,
So vast and calm and bright, your dream
Is dust and ashes in its gleam.
A maiden speaks—"He led us far—
It is the golden western star!"
And then a youth—"Our goal is won,—
'Tis the pavilion of the sun!"
A gray sage then, in undertone,
"It must be Hood, so grand and lone—
The shining citadel and throne
Of Terminus, that Roman god,
Who marked the line the legions trod,
And set the limits of the world,
Where Caesar's battle flags were furled!
O, for the dark-eyed prophetess
Who sang in Sinai's wilderness
The gilded chariots' overthrow,
To lead for us the cymballed song
To Him, the Merciful, the Strong,
Who dashed the brimming cup of woe
And was our cloud and flame so long!"
Forward! The crested mountains kneel
To patient toils of fire and steel—
A way is hewn, and you emerge
Upon the Cascades' frozen verge,
And far beneath you and away
To ocean's shining fringe of foam
