A Rapture on the Cornish Hills

I stood at the foot of Rocky Carradon —
The massive monuments of a vast religion,
Piled by the strength of unknown hands, were there
The everlasting hills, around, afar,
Uplifted their huge fronts, the natural altars
Reared by the Earth to its surrounding God.
I heard a Voice, as the sound of many waters : —
" What do'st thou here, Elijah ?" And I said,
" What doth he here, Man that is born of woman ?
The clouds may haunt these mountains ; the fierce storm
Coiled in his caverned lair — that wild torrent
Leaps from a native land : but Man ! O Lord !
What doth he here ! "
Stranger.
Did'st thou not fear the Voice ?
The Bard.
I could not, at the foot of Rocky Carradon.