Fervid, yet conversant with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway; —
Ho whose experienced eye can pierce th' array
Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
Th' aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose mists have roll'd away; —
Assoil'd from all encumbrance of our time,
lie only, if such breathe, in strains devout
Shall comprehend this victory sublime ;
Shall worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The trinmph hail, which from their peaceful clime
Angels might welcome with a choral shout!
MEMORIALS OP A TOUR ON THE CONTINENT.
FISH-WOMEN. — ON LANDING AT CALAIS. 1820.
'Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen ; But, if the Nereid Sisters and their Queen, Above whose heads the tide so long hath roll'd, The Dames resemble whom we here behold, How fearful were it down through opening waves . To sink and meet them in their fretted caves, Wither'd, grotesque, immeasurably old, And shrill and fierce in accent! — Fear it not: For they Earth's fairest daughters do excel; Pure undecayiug beauty is their lot; Their voices into liquid music swell, Thrilling each pearly cleft and sparry grot, The undisturb'd abodes where Sea-nymphs dwelll
Bruges.
The Spirit of Antiquity — enshrined In sumptuous buildings, vocal in sweet song, In picture speaking with heroic tongue, And with devout solemnities entwined — Mounts to the seat of grace within the mind: Hence Forms that glide with swan-like ease along, Hence motions, even amid the vulgar throi g, To a harmonious decency confined: As if the streets were consecrated ground, The city one vast temple, dedicate To mutual respect in thought and deed; To leisure, to forbearances sedate; To social cares from jarring passions freed; A deeper peace than that in deserts found I
INCIDENT AT BRUGES.!
Is Bruges town J3 many a street
Whence busy life hath fled; Where, without hurry, noiseless feet
The grass-grown pavement tread. There heard we, halting in the shade
Flung from a Convent-tower, A harp that tuneful prelude made
To a voice of thrilling power.
The measure, simple truth to tell,
Was flt for some gay throng; Though from the same grim turret fell
The shadow and the song. When eilent were both voice and chords,
The strain seem'd doubly dear, Yet sad as sweet, — for English words
Had fallen upon the ear.
It was a breezy hour of eve;
And pinnacle and spire Quiver'd and almost seem'd to heave,
Clothed with innocuous fire; But, where we stood, the setting Sun,
Show'd little of his state; And, if the glory reach'd the Nun,
'Twas through an iron grate.
Not always is the heart unwise,
Nor pity idly born, If even a passing stranger sighs
For them who do not mourn. Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,
Captive, whoe'er thou be I 01 what is beanty, what is love,
And opening life to thee ?
Such feeling press'd upon my soul,
A feeling sanctified By one soft trickling tear that stole
From the Maiden at my side: Less tribute could she pay than this,
Borne gaily o'er the sea, Fresh from the beanty and the bliss
Of English liberty?
1 Thisoccurredat Bruges in 1828. Mr Coleridge, mv danghter, and 1 made a tour together in Flanders, upon the Rhine, and returned to Holland. Dora and I, Tvhilc taking a walk along a retired part of tlie town, heard the voice as here described, and were afterwards informed it was a Convent in which were mnny English. We were both much touched, I
' lit say affected, and Dora moved as 3Hre in these verses.—Author's Notes,
FOB THE BOATMEN, AS THEY APPROACH
THE KAPIDS UNDER THE CASTLE
OF HEIDELBERG.
JESU1 bless our slender Boat, By the current swept along;
Loud its threatenings, — let them not Drown the music of a song
Breathed Thy mercy to implore,
Where these troubled waters roar I
Saviour, for our warning, seen Bleeding on that precious Rood;
If, while through the meadows green Gently wound the peaceful flood,
We forgot Thee, do not Thou
Disregard thy Suppliants now I
Hither, like yon ancient Towel Watehing o'er the River's bed,
Fling the shadow of Thy power. Else we sleep among the dead;
Thou who trodd'st the billowy sea,
Shield us in our jeopardy 1
Guide our Bark among the waves;
Thro' the rocks our passage smooth, Where the whirlpool frets and raves
Let Thy love its anger soothe: All our hope is placed in Thee; JMiserere Domine 1
MEMORIAL,
NEAR THE OUTLET OF THE LAKE OF THUN.
Aloys Reding was Captain-General of the Swiss forces, winch, with a courage ana perseverance worthy of the canse, op posed the flagitious and too successful attempt of Buonaparte to subjugate their country.
Abound a wild and woody hill A gravell'd pathway treading, We reach'd a votive Stone that bears The name of Aloys Reding.
Well judged the friend who placed it ther« For silence and protection; And haply with a finer care Of dutiful aflectiou.
The Sun regards it from the West; And, while in summer glory He sets, his sinking yields a typa Of that pathetic story:
And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss Aniifl the grove to linger; Till all is dim, save this bright Stone Touch'd by his golden flnger.
COMPOSED IN ONE OP THE CATHOLIC CANTONS.
Doom'd as we are our native dust To wet with many a bitter shower, It ill bents us to disdain The altar, to deride the lane, Where simple Sufferers bend, in trust To win a happier hour.
I love, where spreads the village lawn, Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze: Hail to the flrm unmoving eross, Aloft, where pines their branches toss! And to the chapel far withdrawn, That lurks by lonely ways!
Where'er we roam,— along the brink Of Rhine, or by the sweeping Po, Thro' Alpine vale, or champain wide, — Whate'er we look on, at our side Be Chnrityl to bid us think, And feel, if we would know.
AFTER-THOUGHT.
OH Life! withont thy chequer'd scene Of right and wrong, of weal and woe. Success and failure, could a ground For magnanimity be found; For faith, 'mid ruin'd hopes, serene? Or whence could virtue flow?
Pain cnter'd through a ghastly breach; Nor while sin lasts must effort cease; Heaven upon Earth's an empty boast; Bnt, for th; bowers of Eden lost, Merry has placed within our reach A portion of God's peace.
OUR LADV OF THE SNOW. Meek Virgin Mother, more benign Thau fairest Star, upon the height Of thy own mountain,2 set to keep Lorn: vigils through the hours of sleep, What eye can look upon thy shrine Untroubled at the sight?
it Right, that is, the Queep
These erowded offerings as they bang In sign of misery relieved Even these, withont intent of theirs, Report of comfortless despairs, Of many a deep and cureless pang, And confidence deceived.
To Thee, in this aerial cleft, As to a common centre, tend All sufferers that no more rely On mortal succour,—all who sigh And pine, of human hope bereft, Nor wish for earthly friend.
And hence, O Virgin Mother mild! Though plenteous flowers around the« Not only from the dreary strife [Llow Of Winter, bnt the storms of life, Thee have thy Votaries aptly styled, Our Lady Of The Snow.
Even for the Man who stops not here, Bnt down th' irriguous valley hies, Thy very name, O Lady I flings, O'er blooming fields and gushing springs, A tender sense of shadowy fear, And chastening sympathies!
Nor falls that intermingling shade To summer gladsomeness unkind: It chastens only to requite With gleams of fresher, purer light; While, o'er the flower-enamell'd glade, More sweetly breathes the wind.
But on !—a tempting downward way, A verdant path before us lies; Clear shines the glorious Sun above; Then give free course to joy and love, Deeming the evil of the day Sufficient for the wise.
THE CHURCH OF SAN SALVADOR, SfcH FROM THE LAKE OF LUGANO.
This Chureh was almost destroyed b; lightning a few years ago, bnt tlie alt:'.r and the image of the Patron Saintwere untouched. The Mount, upon the summit of which the Chureh is built, rtumls amid the intricacies of the Lake "I Lugano; and is, from a hundred puini; of view, its principal ornament, rising to the height of 2000 feet, and, on o side, nearly perpendicular. The asce is Uiilsnnic; bnt the traveller who performs it will be amply rewarded. Splendid fertility, rich woods and dazzling waters, seclusion and coniuiimicut d
view contrasted with sea-like extent of plain fading into the sky; and this again, in an opposite quarter, with an horizon of the loftiest and boldest Alps —unite in composing a prospect more diversified by magnificence, beanty, and sublimity, than perhaps any other point in Europe, of so inconsiderable an elevation, commands.
Thou saered Pile! whose turrets rise From yon steep mountain's loftiest stage, Guarded by lone San Salvador; Sink (if thou must) as heretofore, To sulphurous bolts a sacrifice, Bnt ne'er to human ragel
On Horeb's top, on Sinai, doign'd To rest the universal Lord: Why leap the fountains from their cells Where everlasting Bounty dwells? — That, while the Creature is sustain'd, His God may be adored.
n; ox fountains, rivers, seasons, times, — Let all remind the soul of Heaven; Our slack devotion needs them all; And Faith — so olX of sense the thrall. While she, by aid of Nature, climbs — May hope to be forgiven.
Glory, and patriotic Love,
And all the Pomps of this frail " spot
Which men call Earth," have yearn'd to
Associate with the simply meek, [seek,
Religion in the sainted grove,
And in the hallow'd grot.
Thither, in time of adverse chocks, Of fainting hopes and backward wills, Did mighty Tell repair of old,— A Hero cast in Nature's mould, Deliverer of the steadfast rocka And of the ancient hills I
77«, too, of battle-martyrs chiefl Who, to recall his daunted peers, For victory shaped an open space, By gathering with a wide embrace, lnto his single breast, a sheaf Of fatal Austrian spears.'
THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, 1820.
lilt; H on her speculative tower Stood Science, waiting for the hour When Sol was destined to endure That darkening of his radiant face Which Superstition strove to chase, Erewhile, with rites impure.
Afloat beneath Italian skies, Through regions fair as Paradise We gaily pass'd, till Nature wrought A silent and unlook'd-for change. That check'd the desultory range Of joy and sprightly thought.
Where'er was dipp'd the toiling oar, The waves danoc'd round us as before, As lightly, though of nlter'd line, 'Mid recent coolness, such ns falls At noontide from umbrageous walls That screen the morning dew.
No vapour streteh'd its wings; no cloud Cast far or near a murky shrond; The sky an azure field display'd; 'Twas sunlight sheath'd and gently
charm'd, Of all its sparkling rays disarm'd, And as in slumber laid; —
Or something night and day between, Like moonshine,—bnt the hue was green J Still moonshine, withont shadow, spread On jntting rock, and curved shore, Where gazed the peasant from his door, And on the mountain's head.
It tinged the Julian steeps,—it lay, Lugano I on thy ample bay; The solemnizing veil was drawn O'er villas, terraces, and towers; To Albogasio's olive bowers, Porlezza's verdant lawn.
Bnt Fancy with the speed of fire Hath past to Milan's loftiest spire, And there alights "mid that aerial hoBt Of Figures human and divine,4
3 Arnold Winkelricd, at the battle of Sempach, broke an Austrian phalanx in this manner. The event is one of the most famous in the annals of Swiss heroism; aml pictures and prints of it are frequent thi ougUont the country.
4 The Statues ranged round the spire and along the roof of the Cathedral of Milan, have been found fault with liy persons whose exclusive taste is unfortunate for themselves. It is true that the same expense and labour, jndiciously directed to purposes more strictly arehitectural^ might have much heightened the g"
White as the snows of Apennine Indurated by frost.
Awe stricken she beholds th' array That guards the Temple night and day; Angels she sees, that might from Heaven
have flown,
And Virgin-saints, who not in vain Have striven by purity to gain The beatific erown; —
Sees long-drawn files, concentric rings Each narrowing above each;—the wings, Th' uplifted palms, the silent marble lips, The starry zone5 of sovereign height; — All eteep'd in this portentous light! All suffering dim eclipse I
Thus, after Man had fallen, (if anght These perishable spheres have wrought May with that issue be compared,) Throngs of celestial visages, Darkening like water in the breeze, A holy sadness shared.
Lo! while I speak, the labouring Sun His glad deliverance has begun: The cypress waves her sombre plume More cheerily; and town and tower, The vineyard and the olive-bower, Their lustre re-assume I
O Ye, who guard and grace my home While in far-distant lands we roam, What countenance hath this Day put on
for you?
While we look'd round with favour'd eyes, Did sullen mists hide lake and skies And mountains from your view?
effect of the building; for, seen from the
ground, the Statues appear diminutive, ut the coup-d'oeil, from the best point of view, which is half-way up the spire, must strike an unprejudiced person with admiration. It was with great pleasure that I saw, during the two ascents which we made, several children, of different ages, tripping up and down the slender spire, and pansing to look around them, with feelings much more animated than could have been derived from these or the fmest works of art, if placed within easy reach. — Remember also that you nave the Alps on one side, and on the other the Apennines, with the plain of Lombardy between 1 5 Above the highest circle of figures is cone of metallic stars.
Or was it given you to behold Like vision, pensive though not cold, From the smooth breast of gay Winan. 8aw ye the soft yet awful veil [dennerel Spread over Grasmere's lovely dale, Helvellyn's brow severe ?
I ask in vain, —and know far less If sickness, sorrow, or distress Have spared my dwelling to this hour Sad blindness 1 but ordain'd to prove Our faith in Heaven's unfailing love And all-controlling power.8
THE THREE COTTAGE GIRLS.
How blest the Maid whose heart, yet free From Love's uneasy sovereignty, Beats with a fancy running high, Her simple cares to magnify; Whom Labour, never urged to toil, Hath cherish'd on a healthful soil; Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf; Whose heaviest sin it is to look Askance upon her pretty Self Kefiected in some erystal brook; [tear Whom grief hath spared; who sheds no But in sweet pity; and can hear Another's praise from envy clear.
Such (but, O lavish Nature! why That dark unfathomable eye, Where lurks a Spirit that replies To stillest mood of softest skies, Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown, Another's first, and then her own?)— Such, haply, yon Italian Maid, Our Lady's laggard Votaress, Halting beneath the chestnut shade To accomplish there her loveliness : Nice aid maternal fingers lend; A Sister serves with slacker hand; Then, glittering like a star, she joins the festal band.
How blest (if truth may entertain Coy fancy with a bolder strain)
6 This poem is, I believe, a favourite with all lovers of Wordsworth. Professor Wilson says of it, in The Recreations of Christopher North, "we do not hesitate to pronounce The Eclipse of the Sun one of the finest lyrical effusions of combined thought, passion, sentiment, and imngerj within the whole compass of poetry."
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