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The measure, simple truth to tell,

Was fit for some gay throng ;
Though from the same grim turret fell

The shadow and the song.
When silent were both voice and chords,

The strain seemed doubly dear,
Yet sad as sweet,- for English words

Had fallen upon the ear.

It was a breezy hour of eve ;

And pinnacle and spire
Quivered and seemed almost to heave,

Clothed with innocuous fire ;
But, where we stood, the setting sun

Showed little of his state ;
And, if the glory reached the Nun,

Twas through an iron grate.

What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose ?
Is this the stream, whose cities, heights, and plains,
War’s favourite playground, are with crimson stains
Familiar, as the Morn with pearly dews ?
The Morn, that now, along the silver Meuse,
Spreading her peaceful ensigns, calls the swains
To tend their silent boats and ringing wains,
Or strip the bough whose mellow fruit bestrews
The ripening corn beneath it. As mine eyes
Turn from the fortified and threatening hill,
How sweet the prospect of yon watery glade,
With its grey rocks clustering in pensive shade-
That, shaped like old monastic turrets, rise
From the smooth meadow-ground, serene and still !



Not always is the heart unwise,

Nor pity idly born,
If even a passing Stranger sighs

For them who do not mourn.
Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,

Captive, whoe'er thou be!
Oh ! what is beauty, what is love,

And opening life to thee?

Such feeling pressed upon my soul,

A feeling sanctified
By one soft trickling tear that stole

From the Maiden at my side ;
Less tribute could she pay than this,

Borne gaily o'er the sea,
Fresh from the beauty and the bliss

Of English liberty ?

Was it to disenchant, and to undo,
That we approached the Seat of Charlemaine ?

many an old romantic strain
That faith which no devotion may renew!
Why does this puny Church present to view
Her feeble columns ? and that scanty chair !
This sword that one of our weak times might wear!
Objects of false pretence, or meanly true!
If from a traveller's fortune I might claim
A palpable memorial of that day,
Then would I seek the Pyrenean Breach
That Roland clove with huge two-handed sway,
And to the enormous labour left his name,
Where unremitting frosts the rocky crescent bleach.





A WINGÈD Goddess-clothed in vesture wrought O POR the help of Angels to complete
Of rainbow colours; One whose port was bold, This Temple—Angels governed by a plan
Whose overburthened hand could scarcely hold Thus far pursued (how gloriously!) by Man,
The glittering crowns and garlands which it Studious that He might not disdain the seat

Who dwells in heaven! But that aspiring heat Hovered in air above the far-famed Spot.

Hath failed; and now, ye Powers! whose gorgeous She vanished ; leaving prospect blank and cold

wings Of wind-swept corn that wide around us rolled And splendid aspect yon emblazonings In dreary billows, wood, and meagre cot,

But faintly picture, 'twere an office meet
And monuments that soon must disappear : For you, on these unfinished shafts to try
Yet a dread local recompence we found ;

The midnight virtues of your harmony :-
While glory seemed betrayed, while patriot-zeal This vast design might tempt you to repeat
Sank in our hearts, we felt as men should feel Strains that call forth upon empyreal ground
With such vast hoards of hidden carnage near, Immortal Fabrics, rising to the sound
And horror breathing from the silent ground ! Of penetrating harps and voices sweet!

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Amid this dance of objects sadness steals
O'er the defrauded heart—while sweeping by,
As in a fit of Thespian jollity,
Beneath her vine-leaf crown the green Earth reels :
Backward, in rapid evanescence, wheels
The venerable pageantry of Time,
Each beetling rampart, and each tower sublime,
And what the Dell unwillingly reveals
Of lurking cloistral arch, through trees espied
Near the bright River's edge. Yet why repine ?
To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze
Such sweet way-faring-of life's spring the pride,
Her summer's faithful joythat still is mine,
And in fit measure cheers autumnal days.

Nor, like his great Compeers, indignantly
Doth DANUBE spring to life * ! The wandering

(Who loves the Cross, yet to the Crescent’s gleam
Unfolds a willing breast) with infant glee
Slips from his prison walls : and Fancy, free
To follow in his track of silver light,
Mounts on rapt wing, and with a moment's flight
Hath reached the encincture of that gloomy sea
Whose waves the Orphean lyre forbad to meet
In conflict; whose rough winds forgot their jars
To waft the heroic progeny of Greece;
When the first Ship sailed for the Golden Fleece-
ARGO_exalted for that daring feat
To fix in heaven her shape distinct with stars.

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JESU ! bless our slender Boat,

By the current swept along; Loud its threatenings—let them not

Drown the music of a song Breathed thy mercy to implore, Where these troubled waters roar!

UTTERED by whom, or how inspired-designed
For what strange service, does this concert reach
Our ears, and near the dwellings of mankind !
Mid fields familiarized to human speech ?
No Mermaids warble—to allay the wind
Driving some vessel toward a dangerous beach-
More thrilling melodies; Witch answering Witch,
To chant a love-spell, never intertwined
Notes shrill and wild with art more musical :
Alas! that from the lips of abject Want
Or Idleness in tatters mendicant
The strain should flow-free Fancy to enthral,
And with regret and useless pity haunt
This bold, this bright, this sky-born, WATERFALLT!

Saviour, for our warning, seen

Bleeding on that precious Rood; If, while through the meadows green

Gently wound the peaceful flood, We forgot Thee, do not Thou Disregard thy Suppliants now!



Hither, like yon ancient Tower

Watching o'er the River's bed, Fling the shadow of thy power,

Else we sleep among the dead; Thou who trod’st the billowy sea, Shield us in our jeopardy!

Guide our Bark among the waves ;

Through the rocks our passage smooth; Where the whirlpool frets and raves

Let thy love its anger soothe: All our hope is placed in Thee; Miserere Domine */

From the fierce aspect of this River, throwing
His giant body o'er the steep rock's brink,
Back in astonishment and fear we shrink :
But, gradually a calmer look bestowing,
Flowers we espy beside the torrent growing ;
Flowers that peep forth from many a cleft and

And, from the whirlwind of his anger, drink
Hues ever fresh, in rocky fortress blowing:
They suck—from breath that, threatening to


* See Note.

* See Note.

+ See Note.


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And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss
Amid the grove to linger ;
Till all is dim, save this bright Stone
Touched by his golden finger.


What know we of the Blest above But that they sing and that they love!' Yet, if they ever did inspire A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir, Now, where those harvest Damsels float Homeward in their rugged Boat, (While all the ruffling winds are fledEach slumbering on some mountain's head) Now, surely, hath that gracious aid Been felt, that influence is displayed. Pupils of Heaven, in order stand The rustic Maidens, every hand Upon a Sister's shoulder laid, To chant, as glides the boat along, A simple, but a touching, song ; To chant, as Angels do above, The melodies of Peace in love !


DOOMED as we are our native dust
To wet with many a bitter shower,
It ill befits us to disdain
The altar, to deride the fane,
Where simple Sufferers bend, in trust
To win a happier hour.

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MEEK Virgin Mother, more benign
Than fairest Star, upon the height
Of thy own mountain +, set to keep
Lone vigils through the hours of sleep,
What eye can look upon thy shrine
Untroubled at the sight?

These crowded offerings as they hang
In sign of misery relieved,
Even these, without intent of theirs,
Report of comfortless despairs,
Of many a deep and cureless pang
And confidence deceived.


AT ALTORF. This Tower stands upon the spot where grew the Linden

Tree against which his Son is said to have been placed, when the Father's archery was put to proof under circumstances so famous in Swiss Story. What though the Italian pencil wrought not here, Nor such fine skill as did the meed bestow On Marathonian valour, yet the tear Springs forth in presence of this gaudy show, While narrow cares their limits overflow. Thrice happy, burghers, peasants, warriors old, Infants in arms, and ye, that as ye go Home-ward or school-ward, ape what ye behold; Heroes before your time, in frolic fancy bold !

To Thee, in this aërial cleft,
As to a common centre, tend
All sufferers that no more rely
On mortal succourall who sigh
And pine, of human hope bereft,
Nor wish for earthly friend.

And when that calm Spectatress from on high
Looks down-the bright and solitary Moon,
Who never gazes but to beautify;
And snow-fed torrents, which the blaze of noon
Roused into fury, murmur a soft tune
That fosters peace, and gentleness recals ;

* See Note.

+ Mount Righi.



Then might the passing Monk receive a boon Are moved, for me—upon this Mountain named
Of saintly pleasure from these pictured walls, Of God himself from dread pre-eminence-
While, on the warlike groups, the mellowing lustre Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,

Yield to the Music's touching influence;

And joys of distant home my heart enchain.
How blest the souls who when their trials come
Yield not to terror or despondency,
But face like that sweet Boy their mortal doom,
Whose head the ruddy apple tops, while he
Expectant stands beneath the linden tree :
He quakes not like the timid forest game,

But smiles—the hesitating shaft to free ;
Assured that Heaven its justice will proclaim,

And to his Father give its own unerring aim.

The Ruins of Fort Fuentes form the crest of a rocky eminence that rises from the plain at the head of the lake of Como, commanding views up the Valteline, and toward the town of Chiavenna. The prospect in the latter direction is characterised by melancholy sublimity. We rejoiced at being favoured with a distinct view of those Alpine

heights; not, as we had expected from the breaking up of By antique Fancy trimmed—though lowly, bred

the storm, steeped in celestial glory, yet in communion

with clouds floating or stationary-scatterings from heaven. To dignity—in thee, O Schwytz! are seen

The Ruin is interesting both in mass and in detail. An The genuine features of the golden mean ;

Inscription, upon elaborately-sculptured marble lying on Equality by Prudence governèd,

the ground, records that the Fort had been erected by Or jealous Nature ruling in her stead ;

Count Fuentes in the year 1600, during the reign of Philip And, therefore, art thou blest with peace, serene

the Third; and the Chapel, about twenty years after, by

one of his Descendants. Marble pillars of gateways are As that of the sweet fields and meadows green yet standing, and a considerable part of the Chapel walls: In unambitious compass round thee spread. a smooth green turf has taken place of the pavement, and Majestic Berne, high on her guardian steep,

we could see no trace of altar or image ; but everywhere

something to remind one of former splendour, and of Holding a central station of command,

devastation and tumult. In our ascent we had passed Might well be styled this noble body's Head;

abundance of wild vines intermingled with bushes : near Thou, lodged’mid mountainous entrenchments deep, the ruins were some ill tended, but growing willingly; Its Heart; and ever may the heroic Land and rock, turf, and fragments of the pile, are alike covered

or adorned with a variety of flowers, among whieh the Thy name, 0 Schwytz, in happy freedom keep * !

rose-coloured pink was growing in great beauty. While descending, we discovered on the ground, apart from the path,and at a considerable distance from the ruined Chapel, a statue of a Child in pure white marble, uninjured by the

explosion that had driven it so far down the hill. «How XXII.

little," we exclaimed, “are these things valued here ! ON HEARING THE “RANZ DES VACHES

Could we but transport this pretty Image to our own

garden!"_Yet it seemed it would have been a pity any one OF THE PASS OP ST. GOTHARD.

should remove it from its couch in the wilderness, which I LISTEN—but no faculty of mine

may be its own for hundreds of years—Extract from Avails those modulations to detect,

Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
With tenderest passion ; leaving him to pine

DREAD hour! when, upheaved by war's sulphurous

blast, (So fame reports) and die,-his sweet-breath'd kine

This sweet-visaged Cherub of Parian stone Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked

So far from the holy enclosure was cast,

To couch in this thicket of brambles alone, With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject The tale as fabulous. Here while I recline, Mindful how others by this simple Strain To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm

Of his half-open hand pure from blemish or speck; * Nearly 500 years (says Ebel, speaking of the French

And the green, gilded snake, without troubling the Invasion,) had elapsed, when, for the first time, foreign

calm soldiers were seen upon the frontiers of this small Canton, to impose upon it the laws of their governors.

Of the beautiful countenance, twine round his neck;


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