Twelve thousand feet straight up the sky!
Six thousand years of sleet!
Strange eyrie of humanity,
With Europe at its feet!

How many a year the glacier,
Slow gliding, shall not tell,
Since storms that launch the avalanche
Have shouted as it fell.
Their records rest in cloven crest
And splintered pinnacle.

How many years, in deadliest wrath
Of Roman and of Frank,
The red high-tide of murder hath
Smitten this mountain's flank!

And this poor dog, his kennel ice,
Ringed by the double strife,
In his sublime self-sacrifice
Stands staunch for human life!

Lead out your kings! an even start
For Glory's last reward!
Your Hannibal, your Bonaparte,
Your Caesar, evil-starred,
And here's my " vote, " with all my heart,
For " Barry " of Bernard.

Climb the fierce legions as of old
Storm swept and battle riven!
And as the foremost hearts fall cold
The Alps, by all their height, uphold
A dog the nearest Heaven!