P. 196, 1. 24.

Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend,

"There are those alive," said an illustrious orator, "whose memory might touch the two extremities. Lord Bathurst, in 1704, was of an age to comprehend such things—and, if his angel had then drawn up the curtain, and, while he was gazing with admiration, had pointed out to him a speck, and had told him, Young man, there is Americawhich, at this day, serves for little more than to amuse you with stories of savage men and uncouth manners; yet shall, before you taste of death,' ," &c.— BURKE, in 1775.

P. 196, 1. 26.
Assembling here, &c.

How simple were the manners of the early colonists! The first ripening of any European fruit was distinguished by a family-festival. Garcilasso de la Vega relates how his dear father, the valorous Andres, collected together in his chamber seven or eight gentlemen to share with him three asparaguses, the first that ever grew on the table-land of Cusco. When the operation of dressing them was over (and it is minutely described), he distributed the two largest among his friends; begging that the company would not take it ill, if he reserved the third for himself, as it was a thing from Spain.

North America became instantly an asylum for the oppressed; Huguenots, and Catholics, and sects of every name and country. Such were the first settlers in Carolina and Maryland, Pennsylvania and New England. Nor is South America altogether without a claim to the title. Even now, while I am writing, the ancient house of Braganza is on its passage across the Atlantic,

Cum sociis, natoque, Penatibus, et magnis dis.

P. 196, 1. 28.

Untouched shall drop the fetters from the slave;

Je me transporte quelquefois au delà d'un siècle. J'y vois le bonheur à côté de l'industrie, la douce tolérance remplaçant la farouche inquisition; j'y vois, un jour de fête; Péruviens, Mexicains, Américains libres, Français, s'embrassant comme des frères, et bénissant le règne de la liberté, cui doit amener partout une harmonie universelle. - Mais les mines, les esclaves, que deviendront-ils ? Les mines se fermeront; les esclaves seront les frères de leurs maîtres. -BRISSOT.

There is a prophetic stanza, written a century ago by Bp. Berkeley, which I must quote, though I shall suffer by the comparison.

Westward the course of empire takes its way:

The four first acts already past,

A fifth shall close the drama with the day.
Time's noblest offspring is the last.

P. 197, 1. 6.

The spoiler spoiled of all;

Cortes. A peine put-il obtenir audience de Charles-Quint; un jour il fendit la presse qui entourait la coche de l'empereur, et monta sur l'étrier de la portière. Charles demanda quel était cet homme; "C'est," répondit Cortes, "celui qui vous a donné plus d'états que vos pères ne vous ont laissé de villes."-Voltaire.

"Almost all," says Las Casas, "have perished. The innocent blood, which they had shed, cried aloud for vengeance; the sighs, the tears of so many victims went up before God."

P. 197, 1. 8.

'Mid gems and gold unenvied and unblest;

L'Espagne a fait comme ce roi insensé qui demanda que tout ce qu'il toucheroit se convertît en or, et qui fut obligé de revenir aux dieux pour les prier de finir sa misère.- MONTESQUIEU.

P. 199, 1. 13.

Where on his altar-tomb, &c.

An Interpolation.

P. 199, 1. 22.

Tho' in the western world His grave,

An Anachronism. The body of Columbus was not yet removed from Seville.

It is almost unnecessary to point out another in the Ninth Canto. The telescope was not then in use; though described long before with great accuracy by Roger Bacon.

ITALY.

PREFACE.

IN this Poem the Author has endeavoured to describe his journey through a beautiful country; and it may not perhaps be uninteresting to those who have learned. 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 had been, 'dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.'

THE LAKE OF GENEVA.

DAY glimmered in the east, and the white Moon
Hung like a vapour in the cloudless sky,
Yet visible, when on my way I went,

Glad to be gone; a pilgrim from the North,
Now more and more attracted as I drew
Nearer and nearer. Ere the artisan

19*

(221)

Had from his window leant with folded arms

To snuff the morn, or the caged lark poured forth,
From his green sod upspringing as to heaven,
(His tuneful bill o'erflowing with a song
Old in the days of HOMER, and his wings
With transport quivering) on my way I went,
Thy gates, GENEVA, swinging heavily,
Thy gates so slow to open, swift to shut;
As on that Sabbath-eve when He arrived,*
Whose name is now thy glory, now by thee,
Such virtue dwells in those small syllables,
Inscribed to consecrate the narrow street,
His birth-place,-when, but one short step too late,
In his despair, as though the die were cast,
He sat him down to weep, and wept til dawn;
Then rose to go, a wanderer through the world.

'Tis 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,
They 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

* J. J. ROUSSEAU.

And Want the other. But what multitudes,
Urged by the love of change, and, like myself,
Adventurous, careless of to-morrow'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
Ruffling 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 sun-beam-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 gaily by,
Laden with peasant-girls and fruits and flowers,
And many a chanticleer and partlet caged
For VEVEY'S market-place-a motley group

Seen through the silvery haze. But soon 'twas gone. The shifting sail flapped idly to and fro,

Then bore them off. I am not one of those

So dead to all things in this visible world,

So wondrously profound, as to move on

In the sweet light of heaven, like him of old *
(His name is justly in the Calendar)

Who through the day pursued this pleasant path
That winds beside the mirror of all beauty,
And, when at eve his fellow-pilgrims sat,
Discoursing of the lake, asked where it was.

BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux.