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."