Bring down a winter's snow-enough to whelm 'Twas there; and down along the brink he led 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. JORASSE was in his three-and-twentieth year; Yet seldom seen to smile. He had grown up Had caught their starts and fits of thoughtfulness, From frequent dealings with the Mountain-Spirits, Thro' the rough day and rougher night conversed *The Schreckhorn. And Her, whose throne is inaccessible *, Who sits, withdrawn in virgin-majesty, Nor oft unveils. Anon an Avalanche Rolled its long thunder; and a sudden crash, Sharp and metallick, to the startled ear Told that far-down a continent of Ice Had burst in twain. But he had now begun; * The Jung-frau. + M. Ebel mentions an escape almost as miraculous. "L'an 1790, Christian Boren, propriétaire de l'auberge du Grindelwald, eut le malheur de se jeter dans une fente du glacier, en le traversant avec un troupeau de moutons qu'il ramenoit des pâturages de Bäniseck. Heureusement qu'il tomba dans le voisinage du grand torrent qui coule dans l'intérieur, il en suivit le lit par dessous les voûtes de glace, et arriva au pied du glacier. Cet homme est actuellement encore en vie." Manuel du Voyageur. (Thus did his tongue run on, fast as his feet, From deep to deeper and to deeper still, For, looking round, he saw or thought he saw Winding beneath that solid Crust of Ice; With here and there a rent that showed the stars! What then, alas, was left him but to die? But soon returned, and, fearless from despair, The water slept; a pool sullen, profound, Where, if a billow chanced to heave and swell, It broke not; and the roof, descending, lay Statue-like he stood, Flat on the surface. His journey ended; when a ray divine Shot through his soul. Breathing a prayer to Her Whose ears are never shut, the Blessed Virgin, He plunged and swam-and in an instant rose, The barrier passed, in sunshine! Through a vale, Such as in ARCADY, where many a thatch Gleams thro' the trees, half-seen and half-embowered, Glittering the river ran; and on the bank The Young were dancing ('twas a festival-day) All in their best attire. There first he saw His Madelaine. In the crowd she stood to hear, When all drew round, inquiring; and her face, Seen behind all and varying, as he spoke, |