XIX. Save the shrill-voiced cicala flitting round PÆSTUM. prayer and sacrifice! In such an hour as this, the sun's broad disk Seen at his setting, and a flood of light Filling the courts of these old sanctuaries, ( Gigantic shadows, broken and confused, Across the innumerable columns flung) In such an hour he came, who saw and told, Led by the mighty Genius of the Place.' Walls of some capital city first appear'd, - And what within them? what but in the midst llow many centuries did the sun go round From Mount Alburnus to the Tyrrhene sea, While, by some spell renderd invisible, Or, if approach'd, approach'd by him alone Who saw as though he saw not, they remain'd As in the darkness of a sepulchre, Waiting the appointed time! All, all within Proclaims that Nature had resumed her right, And taken to herself what man renounced; No cornice, triglyph, or worn abacus, But with thick ivy hung or branching fern; Their iron-brown o'erspread with brightest verdure! From my youth upward have I longed to tread This classic ground-And am I here at last? Wandering at will through the long porticoes, And catching, as through some majestic grove, Now the blue ocean, and now, chaos-like, Mountains and mountain-gulfs, and, half-way up, Towns like the living rock from which they grew? A cloudy region, black and desolate, Where once a slave withstood a world in arms, a 'T is said a stranger in the days of old and once again, 2 The air is sweet with violets, running wild (171) 'Mid broken friezes and fallen capitals; Sweet as when Tully, writing down his thoughts, Those thoughts so precious and so lately lost (172) ( Turning to thee, divine Philosophy, Ever at hand to calm his troubled soul) Sail'd slowly by, two thousand years ago, For Athens; when a ship, if north-east winds Blew from the Pæstan gardens, slack'd her course. On as he moved along the level shore, The temples of Pestra are three in number; and have survived, nearly nine centuries, ibe total destruction of the city. Tradition is silent concerning them; but they must have existed now between, two and three tbousand years. · Spartacus. Seo Plutarch in the Life of Crassus, But what are These still standing in the midst ? The Earth has rock'd beneath; the Thunder-stone Passed through and through, and left its traces there; Yet still they stand as by some Unknown Charter! Oh, they are Nature's own! and, as allied To the vast Mountains and the eternal Sea, They want no written history; theirs a voice For ever speaking to the heart of Man! • They are said to have been discovered by accident about tho middle of the last century. ? Athenaus, xiv. * The Mal'aria. MONTE CASSINO. THIE HARPER. «What ñangs behind that curtain?, (174)--Wouldst It was a llarper, wandering with his harp, thou learn? His only treasure; a majestic man, If thou art wise, thou wouldse not. 'T is by some By time and grief ennobled, not subdued; Believed to be bis master-work, who look'd Though from his height descending, day by day, Beyond the grave, and on the chapel-wall, And, as his upward look at once betray'd, As though the day were come, were come and past, Blind as old Ilomer. At a fount he sate, Drew the Last Judgment.'- But the Ilisest err. Well-known to many a wcary traveller; He who in secret wrought, and gave it life, llis little guide, a boy not seven years old, For life is surely there and visible change, (175) But considerate beyond his years, Life, such as none could of liimself impart, Sitting beside him. Each had ate his crust (They who behold it, go not as they came, In silence, drinking of the virgin-spring; And now in silence, as their custom was, But the child 'T is in an ancient record of the flouse; Was worn with travel. licavy sleep weiglı'd down And may it make thee tremble, lest thou fall! His eye-lids; and the grandsire when we came, Embolden'd by bis love and by his fear, Once-on a Christmas-eve-cre yet the roof His fear lest night o'ertake them on the road, Rung with the hymn of the Nativity, liunbly besought me to convey them both A little onward, Such small services Who can refuse-Not I; and him who can, Blest though he be with every eartlıly gift, Looking behind him. When within the walls, I cannot envy. He, if wealth be his, These walls so sacred and inviolable, knows not its uses. So from noon till night, Still did he look behind him; oft and long, Within a crazed and tatter'd vehicle, (176) With baggard eye and curling, quivering lip, That yet display'd, in old emblazonry, Catching at vacancy. Between the fits, A shield as splendid as the Bardi wear;(177) For here, 't is said, he linger'd while he lived, We lumber'd on together ; the old man He would discourse and with a mastery, Beguiling many a league of half its length, A charm hy none resisted, none explain'd, When question'd the adventures of his life, Unfelt before; but when his cheek grew pale, And all the dangers he had undergone; All was forgotten. Then, howe'er employed, His shipwrecks on inhospitable coasts, He would break off, and start as if he caught And his long warfare. A glimpse of something that would not be gone; They were bound, he said, And turn and gaze, and shrink into himself, To a great fair at Reggio; and the boy, As though the Fiend was there, and, face to face, Believing all the world were to be there, And I among the rest, let loose his tongue, And promised me much pleasure. His short trance, Most unremitting in the Services; Short as it was, had, like a charm'd cup, Then, only then, untroubled, unassail'd; Restored his spirit, and, as on we crawld, And, to beguile a melancholy hour, Slow as the snail (my muleteer dismounting, Would sometimes exercise that noble art And now his mules addressing, now his pipe, He learnt in Florence; with a master's hand, And now Luigi) he pour'd out his heart, As to this day the Sacristy attests, Largely repaying me. At length the sun Departed, setting in a sea of gold; That like the setting would the rising be. Their harp-it had a voice oracular, And in the desert, in the crowded street, That langs behind the curtain. Whence he drew, Spoke when consulted. If the treble chord None here can doubt: for they that come to catch Twanged shrill and clear, o'er hill and dale they went, The faintest glimpse-to catch it and be gone, The grandsire, step by step, led by the child; Gaze as he gazed, then shrink into themselves, And not a rain-drop from a passing cloud Acting the self-same part. But why 't was drawn, Fell on their garments. Thus it spoke to-day; Whether, in penance, to atone for Guilt, Inspiring joy, and, in the young one's mind, Or to record the anguish Guili inflicts, Brighitening a patlı already full of sunshine. SXII. THE FELUCA. DAY glimmerd; and beyond the precipice (Which my mule follow'd as in love with fear, Should have the power, the will to make this world Or as in scorn, yet more and more inclining Soon a boatman's shout But when, ah when, do they that can, forbear To crush the unresisting? Strange, that men, Creatures so frail, so soon, alas! to die, At length the day departed, and the moon Rose like another sun, illumining Waters and woods and cloud-capt promontories, Glades for a hermit's cell, a lady's bower, Scenes of Elysium, such as Night alone Reveals below, nor often-scenes that fled As at the waving of a wizard's wand, And left behind them, as their parting gift, A thousand nameless odours. All was still; And now the nightingale her song pour'd forth In such a torrent of heart-felt delight, So fast it flow'd, her tongue so voluble, As if she thought her hearers would be gone Ere half was told. 'T was where in the north-west, Still unassa il'd and unassailable, Thy pharos, Genoa, first display'd itself, Burning in stillness on its cragey seat; That guiding star so oft the only one, When those now glowing in the azure vault, Are dark and silent. 'T was where o'er the sea, For we were now within a cable's length, Delicious gardens hung; green galleries, And marble terraces in many a flight, And fairy-arches flung from cliff to cliff, Wildering, enchanting; and, above them all, A Palace, such as somewhere in the East, In Zenastan or Araby the blest, Among its golden groves and fruits of gold, And fountains scattering rainbows in the sun, Rose, when Aladdin rubb'd the wondrous lamp; Such, if not fairer; and, when we shot by, A scene of revelry, in long array The windows blazing. But we now approach'd A City far-renown'd;" and wonder ceased. XXIII. GENOA. He left it for a better; and 't is now I Genoa. "T is still the noblest dwelling-even in Genoa! 'T is in the heart of Genoa (he who comes, Thou art now Where, when the south-wind blows, and clouds on clouds Thine was a glorious course; but couldst thou there, Clad in thy cere-cloth-in that silent vault, Where thou art gather'd to thy ancestorsOpen thy secret heart and tell us all, Then should we hear thee with a sigh confess, A sigh how heavy, that thy happiest hours Were pass'd before these sacred walls were left, Before the ocean-wave thy wealth reflected, (184) Ånd pomp and power drew envy, stirring up The ambitious man,' that in a perilous hour Fell from the plank.(185) But now a long farewell! Oft, while I live, If once again in England, once again In my own chimney-nook, as Night steals on, With half-shul eyes reclining, oft, methinks, While the wind blusters and the pelting rain Clatters without, shall I recall to mind The scenes, occurrences, I met with here, And wander in Elysium; many a note Of wildest melody, magician-like, Awakening, such as the Calabrian horn, Along the mountain-side, when all is still, Pours forth at folding-time; and many a chant, Solemn, sublime, such as at midnight flows From the full choir, when richest harmonies Break the deep silence of thy glens, La Cava; To him who lingers there with listening ear, Now lost and now descending as from Heaven! XXIV. A FAREWELL. 2 And now farewell to Italy-perhaps Many a courtesy, Gentle or rude, Note 1, page 40, col. 2. As on that Sabbath-eve when he arrived, « J'arrive essoufflé, tout en nage; le cœur me bat, je vois de loin les soldats à leur poste ; j'accours, je crie d'une voix étouffee. Il étoit trop tard.»—See Les Confessions, L. 1. The street, in which he was born, is called Rue Rousseau. Note 2, page 40, col. 2. Lines of eleven syllables occur almost in every page of Milton; but though they are not unpleasing, they ought not to be admitted into heroic poetry; since the 1 Fiosco. Written at Susa, May 1, 1822. So courteous. narrow limits of our language allow us no other dis Note 7, page 42, col. 1. tinction of epic and tragic measures.»- Joenson. St Bruno's onceIt is remarkable that he used them most at last. In The Grande Chartreuse. It was indebted for its the Paradise Regained they occur oftener than in the foundation to a miracle; as every guest may learn Paradise Lost in the proportion of ten to one; and let it there from a little book that lies on the table in his be remembered that they supply us with another close, cell, the cell allotted to him by the fathers. another cadence; that they add, as it were, a string to the instrument; and, by enabling the Poet to relax at • In this year the canon died, and, as all believed, in pleasure, to rise and fall with his subject, contribute the odour of sanctity: for who in his life had been what is most wanted, compass, variety. so holy, in his death so happy? But false are the Shakspeare seems to have delighted in them, and in judgments of men; as the event showeth. For when some of his soliloquies has used them four and five times bad entered the church, the bearers set down the bier, the hour of his funeral had arrived, when the mourners in succession; an example I have not followed in mine. and As in the following instance, where the subject is so every voice was lifted up in the Miserere, sudlemn beyond all others. denly and as none knew how, the lights were extin guished, the anthem stopt! A darkness succeeded, a To be, or not to be, that is the question : silence as of the grave; and these words came in sorWhether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer rowful accents from the lips of the dead. I am The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, summoned before a Just God! A Just God judgeth And, by opposing, end them. me! -- I am condemned by a Just God !» In the church, says the legend, there stood a young They come nearest to the flow of an unstudied eloquence, and should therefore be used in the drama; but time resolved to withdraw into the desert. It was he man with his hands clasped in prayer, who from that why exclusively? Horace, as we learn from himself, whom we now invoke as St Bruno.» admitted the Musa Pedestris in his happiest hours, in those when he was most at his ease; and we cannot Note 8, page 42, col. 1. regret her visits. To her we are indebted for more than that house so rich of old, Ricca-e cortesa a chiunque vi venia, Milton was there at the fall of the leaf. Note 9, page 42, col. 2. The Abbot of Clairvaux. • To admire or despise St Bread to the budgry. Bernard as he ought,» says Gibbon, • the reader, like They distribute, in the course of the year, from thirty myself, should have before the windows of his library to thirty-five thousand rations of food; receiving trathat incomparable landskip.. vellers of every description,-Le Père Biselx, Prieur. Note 4, page 41, col. 1. Note 10, page 42, col. 2. Dessaix, who turned the scale. There is no describing in words; but the following Of all the generals I ever had under me, Dessaix poslines were written on the spot, and may serve perhaps to sessed the greatest talents. He loved glory for itself., recall to some of my readers what they have seen in this enchanting country. Note 11, page 43, col. 1. And gatber'd from above, below, around. The Author of Lalla Rookh, a Poet of such singular Flings his broad shadow half across tho Lake; felicity as to give a lustre to all he touches, has written a Tbat shadow, though it comes through pathless tracts song on this subject, called the Crystal-hunters. Of ether, and o'er Alp and desert drear, Only less brigbt, less glorious iban himself. Note 12, page 43, col. 1. But, while we gaze, 't is gone! And now he shines -- nor long before. Like burnish d silver; all, below, the Night's. M. Ebel mentions an escape almost as miraculous, Such moments are most precious. Yet there are Others, that follow them, to me still more so; L'an 1790, le nommé Christian Boren, propriétaire de When once again he changes, once again l'auberge du Grindelwald, eul le malheur de se jeter Clothing himself in grandeur all his own; dans une fente du glacier, en le traversant avec un trouWhen, like a Ghost, shadow less, colourless, peau de moutons qu'il ramenoit des pâturages de BaniHe melts away into the Heaven of Heavens ; Himself alone reveal'd, all lesser things seck. Heureusement qu'il tomba dans le voisinage du As though they were not ! grand torrent qui coule dans l'intérieur, il en suivit le Note 5, page 41, col. 2. lit par-dessous les voûtes de glace, et arriva au pied du glacier avec un bras cassé. Cet homme est actuellement Two dogs of grave demeanour welcomed me. encore en vie.» Berri, so remarkable for his sagacity, was dead. His Manuel du Voyageur. Art. Grindelwald. skin is stuffed, and is preserved in the Museum of Berne. Note 13, page 43, col. 2. a wondrous monument. But the Bise blew cold, Almost every mountain of any rank or condition has The north-east wind. This description was written such a bridge. The most celebrated in this country is in June, 1816. on the Swiss side of St Gothard. |
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