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[92] Alone, the level sun before;
     Below, the lake's green islands;
Beyond, in misty distance dim,
     The rugged Northern Highlands.

Dark Titan on his Sunset Hill
     Of time and change defiant!
How dwarfed the common woodland seemed,
     Before the old-time giant!

What marvel that, in simpler days
     Of the world's early childhood,
Men crowned with garlands, gifts, and praise
     Such monarchs of the wild-wood?

That Tyrian maids with flower and song
     Danced through the hill grove's spaces,
And hoary-bearded Druids found
     In woods their holy places?

With somewhat of that Pagan awe
     With Christian reverence blending,
We saw our pine-tree's mighty arms
     Above our heads extending.

We heard his needles' mystic rune,
     Now rising, and now dying,
As erst Dodona's priestess heard
     The oak leaves prophesying.

Was it the half-unconscious moan
     Of one apart and mateless,
The weariness of unshared power,
     The loneliness of greatness?

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Titan (1)
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