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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CVI
Work rating: Low

THE SUBLIME
 To stand upon a windy pinnacle,
 Beneath the infinite blue of the blue noon,
 And underfoot a valley terrible
 As that dim gulf, where sense and being swoon
 When the soul parts; a giant valley strewn
 With giant rocks; asleep, and vast, and still,
 And far away. The torrent, which has hewn
 His pathway through the entrails of the hill,
 Now crawls along the bottom and anon
 Lifts up his voice, a muffled tremulous roar,
 Borne on the wind an instant, and then gone
 Back to the caverns of the middle air;
 A voice as of a nation overthrown
 With beat of drums, when hosts have marched to war.
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