Sonnet VII Prospect of Sun-Rise From Snowdon
How grand the scene from this stupendous height!
How awfully sublime! the king of day
Flames in the east; old Ocean’s waves display
One globe of fire! one boundless flood of light!
With what unclouded lustre blaze the skies!
While Mona’s flats tinged with a golden hue,
Burst with transcendant beauty on the view;
And, Man, 333 thy scarce seen mountains proudly rise.
Nature beneath seems prostrate; and my sight
Can hardly grasp the vast immensity!
Can then the muse attempt to sing of thee,
Nature’s great God! Father of life and light!
Who bade the sun his annual circle roll,
Who guides, directs, and animates the whole.