Shelley gives us a fragment that seems to hover right on the edge of a vast, frozen landscape. The speaker describes a sound—a voice—that rises from the empty caves and ice of Mont Blanc, but it isn't meant for everyone. It's the deep, cracking roar of a glacier breaking apart in the sun, the wind crashing down through pine forests, the sudden violent rush of unmelted streams. There's a clear feeling of lonely awe here, as if nature is speaking a language only a few can truly sense. The mood is both terrifying and thrilling—these aren't gentle sounds; they're raw and indifferent to human presence. The ice-cliff's "roar" and the plunging blast create a sense of sublime power just beyond ordinary perception, leaving the reader suspended in a cold, echoing wilderness.
Cancelled Passage of Mont Blanc — Summary
There is a voice, not understood by all, Sent from these desert-caves. It is the roar Of the rent ice-cliff which the sunbeams call, Plunging into the vale--it is the blast Descending on the pines--the torrents pour...