« FöregåendeFortsätt »
In the brown park, in herds, the troubled deer
How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape changed in form and hue! Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood
Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood;
Into a gradual calm the zephyrs sink,
A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink:
And, brightly blue, the burnished mirror glows, Save where, along the shady western marge, Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge; The sails are dropped, the poplar's foliage sleeps, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps.
Their panniered train a group of potters goad,
Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge,
Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs, and falling floods. Not undelightful are the simplest charms, Found by the verdant door of mountain farms.
Sweetly ferociousT, round his native walks, Pride of his sister-wives, the monarch stalks;
"Vivid rings of green."-GREENWOOD's Poem on Shooting. "Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings."BEATTIE.
"Dolcemente feroce.”— ."-TASSO. - In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in l'Agnculture, ou Les Georgiquos Françoises, of M. Rossuet
Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread;
Bright sparks his black and haggard eye-ball hurls
Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro,
Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears
The gilded turf invests with richer green
Brightening the cliffs between, where somorous pine
Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail
I love to mark the quarry's moving trains,
Dwarf-panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains; How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray
Where winds the road along a secret bay;
Proud of the varying arch and moveless form of snow
In these secluded vales, if village fame,
A desperate form appears, that spurs his steed Along the midway cliffs with violent speed; Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall.
*From Thomson.-See Scott's Critical Essays.
Anon, in order mounts a gorgeous show
Long may ye float upon these floods serene;
+ See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clarke's Survey of the Lakes, accompanied by vouchers of its veracity, may amuse the reader.
Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave your cumbrous flight.
Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed; The while upon some sultry summer's day She dragged her babes along this weary way; Or taught their limbs along the burning road A few short steps to totter with their load.
I see her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed, Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry, By pointing to a shooting star on high; I hear, while in the forest depth, he sees The Moon's fixed gaze between the opening trees, In broken sounds her elder grief demand, And skyward lift, like one that prays, his hand, If, in that country, where he dwells afar, His father views that good, that kindly star; -Ah me! all light is mute amid the gloom, The interlunar cavern, of the tomb. -When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide, And fireless are the valleys far and wide, Where the brook brawls along the painful road, Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad, Oft has she taught them on her lap to play Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray Tossed light from hand to hand; while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around.
Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail, And roars between the hills the torrent gale. -No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears; No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms, Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms.
Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar, Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star, Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge, And feeding pike starts from the water's edge, Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill Wetting, that drip upon the water still; And heron, as resounds the trodden shore, Shoots upward, darting his long neck before.
Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of the night; 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, And round the West's proud lodge their shadows throw,
Like Una shining on her gloomy way,
Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale
Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel A sympathetic twilight slowly steal,
And ever, as we fondly muse, we find
The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind.
The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to threw Silent the hedge or steaming rivulet's bed, From his gray re-appearing tower shall soon Salute with boding note the rising moon, Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground, And pouring deeper blue to Ether's bound; And pleased her solemn pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold.
See, o'er the eastern hill, where darkness broods O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods; Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace, She lifts in silence up her lovely face: Above the gloomy valley flings her light, Far to the western slopes with hamlets white And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew To the green corn of summer autumn's hue.
Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the Moon's own morn; Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; -Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile.
-Even now she decks for me a distant scene, (For dark and broad the gulf of time between) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray, (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way;
How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear!
But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains,
The song of mountain streams, unheard by day,
To catch the spiritual music of the hill,
TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG
TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES,
HOWEVER desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circumstance of my having accompanied you among the Alps, seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested.
In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a post-chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, | each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter!
I am happy in being conscious I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must certainly interest, in reminding you of moments to which you can hardly look back without a pleasure not the less dear from a shade of melancholy. You will meet with few images without recollecting the spot where we observed them together; consequently, whatever is feeble in my design, or spiritless in my colouring, will be amply supplied by your own memory.
With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a description of some of the features of your native mountains, through which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much pleasure. But the sea-sunsets, which give such splendour to the vale of Clwyd, Snowdon, the chair of Idris, the quiet village of Bethgelert, Menai and her Druids, the Alpine steeps of the Conway, and the still more interesting windings of the wizard stream of the Dee, remain yet untouched. Apprehensive that my pencil may never be exercised on these subjects, I cannot let slip this opportunity of thus publicly assuring you with how much affection and esteem
Happiness (if she had been to be found on Earth) amongst the Charms of Nature - Pleasures of the pedestrian Traveller — Author crosses France to the Alps Present State of the Grande Chartreuse-Lake of Como-Time, Sunset Same Scene, Twilight-Same Scene, Morning, its voluptuous Character; Old Man and Forest Cottage Music - River Tusa-Via Mala and Grisor Gipsy — Sckellenen-thal — Lake of Uri — Stormy Sunset - Chapel of William Tell-Force of Local Emotion Chamois-chaser · View of the higher Alps-Manner of Life of a Swiss Mountaineer, interspersed with Views of the higher Alps-Golden Age of the Alps - Life and Views continued — Ranz des Vaches, famous Swiss Air Abbey of Einsiedlen and its Pilgrims Valley of Chamouny — Mont Blanc — Slavery of Savoy-Influence of Liberty on Cottage Hap. piness-France — Wish for the Extirpation of Slavery ― Conclusion.
I am, dear Sir,
Most sincerely yours,
WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground