Leaving his life-blood in that famous field,
(When the clouds break, we may discern the spot

In the blue haze,) sleeps, as thou saw'st at dawn,
Just where we entered, in the Hospital-church."
So saying, for awhile he held his peace,
Awe-struck beneath that dreadful Canopy;

But soon, the danger passed, launched forth again.

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 chalêt round the Peak of Terror, *
Round Tacul, Tour, Well-horn and Rosenlau,
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Who sits, withdrawn in virgin-majesty,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;
And with what transport he recalled the hour
When to deserve, to win his blooming bride,
Madelaine of Annecy, to his feet he bound
The iron crampons, and, ascending, trod
The Upper Realms of Frost; then, by a cord
Let half-way down, entered a Grot star-bright,
And gathered from above, below, around,
The pointed crystals!-Once, nor long before,
(Thus did his tongue run on, fast as his feet,
And with an eloquence that Nature gives
To all her children-breaking off by starts
The Jung-frau.

The Schrekhorn.

Into the harsh and rude, oft as the Mule
Drew his displeasure,) once, nor long before,
Alone at day-break on the Mettenberg,
He slipped, he fell; and, thro' a fearful cleft
Gliding from ledge to ledge, from deep to deeper,
Went to the Under-world! Long-while he lay
Upon his rugged bed-then waked like one
Wishing to sleep again and sleep for ever!
For, looking round, he saw or thought he saw
Innumerable branches of a Cave,

Winding beneath that solid Crust of Ice;

With here and there a rent that shewed the stars!
What then, alas, was left him but to die?
What else in those immeasurable chambers,
Strewn with the bones of miserable men,
Lost like himself? Yet must he wander on,
Till cold and hunger set his spirit free!
And, rising, he began his dreary round;
When hark, the noise as of some mighty Flood
Working its way to light! Back he withdrew,
But soon returned, and, fearless from despair,
Dashed down the dismal Channel; and all day,
If day could be where utter darkness was;
Travelled incessantly, the craggy roof
Just over-head, and the impetuous waves,
Nor broad nor deep, yet with a giant's strength
Lashing him on. At last as in a pool

The water slept; a pool sullen, profound,
Where, if a billow chanced to heave and swell,
It broke not; and the roof, descending, lay
Flat on the surface. Statue-like he stood,
His journey ended; when a ray divine
Shot thro' his soul. Breathing a prayer to Her
Whose ears are never shut, the Blessed Virgin,
He plunged, he swam—and in an instant rose,
The barrier passed, in sunshine! Thro' a vale,
Such as in ARCADY, where many a thatch
Gleamed 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,
With hope, and fear, and generous sympathy,
Subdued him. From that very hour he loved.
The tale was long, but coming to a close,
When his wild eyes flashed fire; and, all forgot,
He listened and looked up. I looked up too;
And twice there came a hiss that thro' me thrilled!
'Twas heard no more. A Chamois on the cliff
Had roused his fellows with that cry of fear,

And all were gone.

But now the theme was changed;

And he recounted his hair-breadth escapes,