And now, as guided by a voice from heaven,
Digs with his feet. That noble vehemence
Whose can it be, but his who never erred?1
A man lies underneath! Let us to work!-
But who descends MONT VELAN? 'Tis La Croix.
Away, away! if not, alas, too late.
Homeward he drags an old man and a boy,
Faltering and falling, and but half awaked,
Asking to sleep again." Such their discourse.
Oft has a venerable roof received me;
St. BRUNO'S once 2-where, when the winds were hushed,
Nor from the cataract the voice came up,
You might have heard the mole work underground,
So great the stillness there; none seen throughout,
Save when from rock to rock a hermit crossed
By some rude bridge—or one at midnight tolled
To matins, and white habits, issuing forth,
Glided along those aisles interminable,
All, all observant of the sacred law
Of Silence. Nor is that sequestered spot,
Once called "Sweet Waters," now "The Shady Vale,"
To me unknown; that house so rich of old,
So courteous, and, by two that passed that way,4
Amply requited with immortal verse,
The Poet's payment.-But, among them all,
None can with this compare, the dangerous seat
Of generous, active Virtue. What though Frost
Reign everlastingly, and ice and snow
Thaw not, but gather-there is that within,
Which, where it comes, makes Summer; and, in thought,
Oft am I sitting on the bench beneath
1 Alluding to Barri, a dog of great renown in his day. He is here admirably represented by a pencil that has done honour to many of his kind, but to none who deserved it more. His skin is stuffed, and preserved in the Museum of Berne. 2 The Grande Chartreuse. 3 Vallombrosa, formerly called Acqua Bella 4 ARIOSTO and MILTON. Milton was there at the fall of the leaf.
Their garden-plot, where all that vegetates
Is but some scanty lettuce, to observe
Those from the South ascending, every step
As though it were their last,-and instantly
Restored, renewed, advancing as with songs,
Soon as they see, turning a lofty crag,
That plain, that modest structure, promising
Bread to the hungry, to the weary rest.
My mule refreshed-and, let the truth be told,
He was nor dull nor contradictory,
But patient, diligent, and sure of foot,
Shunning the loose stone on the precipice,
Snorting suspicion while with sight, smell, touch,
Trying, detecting, where the surface smiled;
And with deliberate courage sliding down,
Where in his sledge the Laplander had turned
With looks aghast-my mule refreshed, his bells
Gingled once more, the signal to depart,
And we set out in the grey light of dawn,
Descending rapidly-by waterfalls
Fast frozen, and among huge blocks of ice
That in their long career had stopped mid-way.
At length, unchecked, unbidden, he stood still;
And all his bells were muffled. Then my Guide,
Lowering his voice, addressed me: "Thro' this Gap
On and say nothing-lest a word, a breath
Bring down a winter's snow-enough to whelm
The armed files that, night and day, were seen
Winding from cliff to cliff in loose array
To conquer at MARENGO. Though long since,
Well I remember how I met them here,
As the sun set far down, purpling the west;
And how NAPOLEON, he himself no less,
Wrapt in his cloak-I could not be deceived-
Reined in his horse, and asked me, as I passed,
How far 'twas to St. Remi. Where the rock
Juts forward, and the road, crumbling away,
Narrows almost to nothing at the base,
'Twas there; and down along the brink he led
To Victory!-DESAIX, who turned the scale,
Leaving his life-blood in that famous field
(When the clouds break, we may discern the spot
In the blue haze), sleeps, as you saw at dawn,
Just where we entered, in the Hospital church."
So saying, for a while he held his peace,
Awe-struck beneath that dreadful Canopy;
But soon, the danger passed, launched forth again.
"Many able men have served under me; but none like him. He loved glory for itself."
JORASSE was in his three-and-twentieth year;
Graceful and active as a stag just roused;
Gentle withal, and pleasant in his speech,
Yet seldom seen to smile. He had grown up
Among the hunters of the Higher Alps;
Had caught their starts and fits of thoughtfulness,
Their haggard looks, and strange soliloquies,
Arising (so say they that dwell below)
From frequent dealings with the Mountain Spirits.
But other ways had taught him better things;
And now he numbered, marching by my side,
The great, the learned, that with him had crossed
The frozen tract-with him familiarly
Thro' the rough day and rougher night conversed
In many a châlet round the Peak of Terror,1
Round Tacul, Tour, Well-horn, and Rosenlau,
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