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In this poem the author has endeavored to describe his journey through a beautiful country ; and it may not perhaps be uninteresting to those who have learnt to live in past times as well as present, and whose minds are familiar with the events and the people that have rendered Italy so illustrious ; for, wherever he came, he could not but remember ; nor is he conscious of having slept over any ground that has been “ dignified by wisdom, bravery or virtue.”
Much of it was originally published as it was written on the spot. He has since, on a second visit, revised it throughout, and added many stories from the old chroniclers, and many notes illustrative of the manners, customs and superstitions, there.
THE LAKE OF GENEVA.
Day glimmered in the east, and the white Moon
He flung him down to weep, and wept till dawn; Then rose to go, a wanderer through the world.
’T is not a tale that every hour brings with it." Yet at a city-gate, from time to time, Much may be learnt; nor, London, least at thine, Thy hive the busiest, greatest of them all, Gathering, enlarging still. Let us stand by, And note who passes. Here comes one, a youth, Glowing with pride, the pride of conscious power, A CHATTERTON - in thought admired, caressed, And crowned like PETRARCH in the Capitol ; Ere long to die, to fall by his own hand, And fester with the vilest.
Here come two, Less feverish, less exalted — soon to part, A GARRICK and a JOHNSON; Wealth and Fame Awaiting one, even at the gate; Neglect And Want the other. But what multitudes, Urged by the love of change, and, like myself, Adventurous, careless of tomorrow's fare, Press on - though but a rill entering the sea, Entering and lost! Our task would never end.
Day glimmered and I went, a gentle breeze Ruflling the LEMAN Lake. Wave after wave,
, If such they might be called, dashed as in sport, Not anger, with the pebbles on the beach Making wild music, and far westward caught The sunbeam — where, alone and as entranced, Counting the hours, the fisher in his skiff Lay with his circular and dotted line On the bright waters. When the heart of man Is light with hope, all things are sure to please ; And soon a passage-boat swept gayly by,