Of hearts and hands alike "prepared The treasures they enjoy to guard!" And, if there be a favoured hour When Heroes are allowed to quit The tomb, and on the clouds to sit With tutelary power,

On their Descendants shedding graceThis was the hour, and that the place.

II.

But Truth inspired the Bards of old
When of an iron age they told,
Which to unequal laws gave birth,
And drove Astræa from the earth.
-A gentle Boy (perchance with blood
As noble as the best endued,
But seemingly a Thing despised;
Even by the sun and air unprized;
For not a tinge or flowery streak
Appeared upon his tender cheek)
Heart-deaf to those rebounding notes,
Apart, beside his silent goats,
Sate watching in a forest shed,
Pale, ragged, with bare feet and head;
Mute as the snow upon the hill,
And, as the saint he prays to, still.
Ah, what avails heroic deed?
What liberty? if no defence
Be won for feeble Innocence.

Father of all! though wilful Manhood read
His punishment in soul-distress,

Grant to the morn of life its natural blessed

Where'er was dipped the toiling oar
The waves danced round us as before,
As lightly, though of altered hue,
Mid recent coolness, such as falls
At noontide from umbrageous walls
That screen the morning dew.

No vapour stretched its wings; no cloud
Cast far or near a murky shroud;
The sky an azure field displayed;
'Twas sunlight sheathed and gently char ed
Of all its sparkling rays disarmed,
And as in slumber laid,-

Or something night and day between,
Like moonshine-but the hue was green;
Still moonshine, without shadow, spread
On jutting rock, and curvèd shore,
Where gazed the peasant from his door
And on the mountain's head

It tinged the Julian steeps-it lay.
Lugano! on thy ample bay:
The solemnizing veil was drawn
O'er villas, terraces, and towers;
To Albogasio's olive bowers,
Porlezza's verdant lawn.

But Fancy with the speed of fire
Hath past to Milan's loftiest spire,
And there alights 'mid that aërial host
Of Figures human and divine,
White as the snows of Appenine
Indúrated by frost.

Awe-stricken she beholds the 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 crown

Sees long-drawn files, concentric rings
Each narrowing above each ;-the wings,
The uplifted palms, the silent marble lips,
The starry zone of sovereign height-
All steeped in this portentous light!
All suffering dim eclipse!

Thus after Man had fallen (if aught
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!

O Ye, who guard and grace my home
While in far-distant lands we roam,
What countenance hath this Day put on for

you?

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! but ordained to prove
Our faith in Heaven's unfailing love
And all-controlling power.

XXVIII.

THE THREE COTTAGE GIRLS.

I.

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 cherished on a healthful soil;

Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf;
Whose heaviest sin it is to look
Askance upon her pretty Self
Reflected in some crystal brook;
Whom grief hath spared-who sheds no tear
But in sweet pity; and can hear
Another's praise from envy clear

II.

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.

III.

How blest (if truth may entertain
Coy fancy with a bolder strain)
The HELVETIAN Girl-who daily braves
In her light skiff, the tossing waves,
And quits the bosom of the deep
Only to climb the rugged steep!
-Say whence that modulated shout!
From Wood-nymph of Diana's throng
Or does the greeting to a rout
Of giddy Bacchanals belong?
Jubilant outcry! rock and glade
Resounded-but the voice obeyed
The breath of an Helvetian Maid.

IV.

Her beauty dazzles the thick wood;
Her courage animates the flood;
Her steps the elastic green-sward meets
Returning unreluctant sweets;
The mountains (as ye heard) rejoice
Aloud, saluted by her voice!
Blithe Paragon of Alpine grace,
Be as thou art-for through thy veins
The blood of Heroes runs its race!
And nobly wilt thou brook the chains
That, for the virtuous, Life prepares ;
The fetters which the Matron wears;

The patriot Mother's weight of anxious cares!

V.

*"Sweet HIGHLAND Girl! a very shower
Of beauty was thy earthly dower,"
When thou didst flit before mine eyes,
Gay Vision under sullen skies,

While Hope and Love around thee played,
Near the rough falls of Inversneyd !
Have they, who nursed the blossom, seen
No breach of promise in the fruit?
Was joy, in following joy, as keen
As grief can be in grief's pursuit?
When youth had flown did hope still bless
Thy goings-or the cheerfulness

Of innocence survive to mitigate distress?

VI.

But from our course why turn-to tread
A way with shadows overspread;
Where what we gladliest would believe
Is feared as what may most deceive?
Bright Spirit, not with amaranth crowned
But heath-bells from thy native ground.
Time cannot thin thy flowing hair,
Nor take one ray of light from Thee;
For in my Fancy thou dost share
The gift of immortality;

And there shall bloom, with Thee allied,
The Votaress by Lugano's side:

And that intrepid Nymph on Uri's steep descried!

XXIX.

THE COLUMN INTENDED BY BUONAPARTE FOR
A TRIUMPHAL EDIFICE IN MILAN, NOW LYING
BY THE WAY-SIDE IN THE SIMPLON PASS.

AMBITION-following down this far-famed slope
Her Pioneer, the snow-dissolving Sun,
While clarions prate of kingdoms to be won---
Perchance, in future ages, here may stop;
Taught to mistrust her flattering horoscope
By admonition from this prostrate Stone!
Memento uninscribed of Pride o'erthrown;
Vanity's hieroglyphic; a choice trope
In Fortune's rhetoric. Daughter of the Rock,
Rest where thy course was stayed by Power
divine !

The Soul transported sees, from hint of thine, Crimes which the great Avenger's hand provoke,

Hears combats whistling o'er the ensanguined heath:

What groans! what shrieks! what quietness in death!

The beauty of Florence, the grandeur of Rome, Could I leave them unseen, and not yield to regret?

With a hope (and no more) for a season to come, Which ne'er may discharge the magnificent debt?

Thou fortunate Region! whose Greatness inurned

Awoke to new life from its ashes and dust; Twice-glorified fields! if in sadness I turned From your infinite marvels, the sadness was just. Now, risen ere the light-footed Chamois retires From dew-sprinkled grass to heights guarded with snow,

Towards the mists that hang over the land of my Sires,

From the climate of myrtles contented I go. My thoughts become bright like yon edging of Pines

On the steep's lofty verge: how it blacken'd the air!

But, touched from behind by the Sun, it now shines

With threads that seem part of his own silver hair.

Though the toil of the way with dcar Friends we divide,

Though by the same zephyr our temples be

fanned

As we rest in the cool orange-bower side by side, A yearning survives which few hearts shall withstand:

Each step hath its value while homeward we

move;

O joy when the girdle of England appears! What moment in life is so conscious of love, Of love in the heart made more happy by tears?

ΧΧΧΙ.

ECHO, UPON THE GEMMI.

And that the past might have its true intents
Feelingly told by living monuments—
Mankind of yore were prompted to devise
Rites such as yet Persepolis presents
Graven on her cankered walls, solemnities
That moved in long array before admiring eyes.
The Hebrews thus, carrying in joyful state
Thick bows of palm, and willows from the brook,
Marched round the altar to commemorate
How, when their course they through the desert
took,

Guided by signs which ne'er the sky forsook,
They lodged in leafy tents and cabins low;
Green boughs were borne, while, for the blast
that shook

Down to the earth the walls of Jericho,
Shouts rise, and storms of sound from lifted
trumpets blow!

And thus, in order, 'mid the sacred grove
Fed in the Libyan waste by gushing wells,
The priests and damsels of Ammonian Jove
Provoked responses with shrill canticles;
While, in a ship begirt with silver bells,
They round his altar bore the horned God,
Old Cham, the solar Deity, who dwells
Aloft, yet in a tilting vessel rode,
When universal sea the mountains overflowed.
Why speak of Roman Pomps; the haughty

claims

cover?

Stern GEMMI listens to as full a cry,

As multitudinous a harmony

Of sounds as rang the heights of Latmos over, When, from the soft couch of her sleeping Lover

Up-starting, Cynthia skimmed the mountaindew

In keen pursuit-ahd gave, where'er she flew,
Impetuous motion to the Stars above her.
A solitary Wolf-dog, ranging on
Through the bleak concave, wakes this won-
drous chime

Of aëry voices locked in unison,

Even such, this day, came wafted on the breeze
From a long train-in hooded vestments fair
Enwrapt and winding, between Alpine trees
Spiry and dark, around their House of prayer,
Below the icy bed of bright ARGENTIERE
Still in the vivid freshness of a dream,
The pageant haunts me as it met our eyes!
Still, with those white-robed Shapes-a living
Stream,

The glacier Pillars join in solemn guise
For the same service, by mysterious ties:
Numbers exceeding credible account
Of number, pure and silent Votaries
Issuing or issued from a wintry fount;

lime!--3

So, from the body of one guilty deed,

A thousand ghostly fears, and haunting thoughts, proceed!

XXXII.

PROCESSIONS.

SUGGESTED ON A SABBATH MORNING IN THE
VALE OF CHAMOUNY.

To appease the Gods; or public thanks to yield;
Or to solicit knowledge of events,
Which in her breast Futurity concealed;

They, too, who send so far a holy gleam
While they the Church engird with motion
slow,

A product of that awful Mountain seem,
Poured from his vaults of everlasting snow;
Not virgin lilies marshalled in bright row,
Not swans descending with the stealthy tide,
A livelier sisterly resemblance show
Than the fair Forms, that in long order glide,
Bear to the glacier band-those Shapes aloft
descried.

Trembling, I look upon the secret springs
Of that licentious craving in the mind

To act the God among external things,
To bind, on apt suggestion, or unbind;
And marvel not that antique Faith inclined
To crowd the world with metamorphosis,
Vouchsafed in pity, or in wrath assigned;
Such insolent temptations wouldst thou miss,
Avoid these sights; nor brood o'er Fable's
dark abyss !

XXXIII.

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

The lamented Youth whose untimely death gave occasion to these elegiac verses was Frederick William Goddard, from Boston in North America. He was in his twentieth year, and had resided for some time with a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Geneva for the completion of his education. Accompanied by a fellow-pupil, a native of Scotland, he had just set out on a Swiss tour when it was his misfortune to fall in with a friend of mine who was hastening to join our party. The travellers, after spending a day together on the road from Berne and at Soleure, took leave of each other at night, the young men having intended to proceed directly to Zurich. But early in the morning my friend found his new acquaintances, who were informed of the object of his journey, and the friends he was in pursuit of, equipped to accompany him.. We met at Lucerne the succeeding evening, and Mr G. and his fellowstudent became in consequence our travelling companions for a couple of days. We ascended the Righi together; and, after contemplating the sunrise from that noble mountain, we separated at an hour and on a spot well suited to the parting of those who were to meet no more. Our party descended through the valley of our Lady of the Snow, and our late companions, to Art. We had hoped to meet in a few weeks at Geneva; but on the third succeeding day (on the 21st of August) Mr Goddard perished, being overset in a boat while crossing the lake of Zurich. His companion saved himself by swimming, and was hospitably received in the mansion of a Swiss gentleman (M. Keller) situated on the eastern coast of the lake. The corpse of poor Goddard was cast ashore on the estate of the same gentleman, who generously performed all the rites of hospitality which could be rendered to the dead as well as to the living. He caused a handsome mural monument to be erected in the church of Küsnacht, which records the premature fate of the young American, and on the shores too of the lake the traveller may read an inscription pointing out the spot where the body was deposited by the waves. LULLED by the sound of pastoral bells, Rude Nature's Pilgrims did we go, From the dread summit of the Queen* Of mountains, through a deep ravine, Where, in her holy chapel, dwells "Our Lady of the Snow.'

The sky was blue, the air was mild;

Free were the streams and green the bowers;
As if, to rough assaults unknown,

The genial spot had ever shown

* Mount Righi-Regina Montium,

A countenance that as sweetly smiledThe face of summer hours.

And we were gay, our hearts at ease;
With pleasure dancing through the frame
We journeyed; all we knew of care-
Our path that straggled here and there;
Of trouble-but the fluttering breeze;
Of Winter-but a name.

If foresight could have rent the veil
Of three short days-but hush-no more!
Calm is the grave, and calmer none
Than that to which thy cares are gone,
Thou victim of the stormy gale;
Asleep on ZURICH'S shore!

Oh GODDARD! what art thou?-a name-
A sunbeam followed by a shade!
Nor more, for aught that time supplies.
The great, the experienced, and the wise;
Too much from this frall earth we claim,
And therefore are betrayed.

We met, while festive mirth ran wild,
Where, from a deep lake's mighty urn,
Forth slips, like an enfranchised slave,
A sea-green river, proud to lave,
With current swift and undefiled,
The towers of old LUCERNE.

We parted upon solemn ground
Far-lifted towards the unfading sky:
But all our thoughts were then of Earth,
That gives to common pleasures birth;
And nothing in our hearts we found
That prompted even a sigh.

Fetch, sympathising Powers of air,
Fetch, ye that post o'er seas and lands,
Herbs moistened by Virginian dew,
A most untimely grave to strew,
Whose turf may never know the care
Of kindred human hands!
Beloved by every gentle Muse
He left his Transatlantic home:
Europe, a realised romance,
Had opened on his eager glance;
What present bliss!-what golden views!
What stores for years to come!
Though lodged within no vigorcus frame
His soul her daily tasks renewed,
Blithe as the lark on sun-gilt wings
High poised-or as the wren that sings
In shady places, to proclaim
Her modest gratitude.

Not vain is sadly-uttered praise;
The words of truth's memorial vow
Are sweet as morning fragrance shed
From flowers mid GOLDAU'S ruins bred;
As evening's fondly-lingering rays,
On RIGHI'S silent brow.

Lamented Youth! to thy cold clay
Fit obsequies the Stranger paid;
And piety shall guard the Stone
Which hath not left the spot unknown

Where the wild waves resigned their prey-
And that which marks thy bed.

And, when thy Mother weeps for Thee,
Lost Youth! a solitary Mother;

This tribute from a casual Friend
A not unwelcome aid may lend.
To feed the tender luxury,
The rising pang to smother,

XXXIV.
SKY-PROSPECT-FROM THE PLAIN OF FRANCE.

Lo! in the burning west, the craggy nape
Of a proud Ararat! and, thereupon,
The Ark, her melancholy voyage done!
Yon rampant cloud mimics a lion's shape;
11ere, combats a huge crocodile-agape
A golden spear to swallow! and that brown
Tnd massy grove, so near yon blazing town,
Stirs and recedes-destruction to escape!
Yet all is harmless-as the Elysian shades
Where Spirits dwell in undisturbed repose-
Silently disappears, or quickly fades:
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
That for oblivion take their daily birth
From all the fuming vanities of Earth!

XXXV.

ON BEING STRANDED NEAR THE HARBOUR OF
BOULOGNE.

WHY cast ye back upon the Gallic shore,
Ye furious waves! a patriotic Son
Of England-who in hope her coast had won,
His project crowned, his pleasant travel o'er?
Well-let him pace this noted beach once more,
That gave the Roman his triumphal shells;
That saw the Corsican his cap and bells
Haughtily shake, a dreaming Conqueror !-
Enough my Country's cliffs I can behold,
And proudly think, beside the chafing sea,
Of checked ambition, tyranny controlled,
And folly cursed with endless memory:
These local recollections ne'er can cloy;
Such ground I from my very heart enjoy!

Ocean's o'erpowering murmurs have set free
Thy sense from pressure of life's common din ;
As the dread Voice that speaks from out the sea
Of God's eternal Word the Voice of Time
Doth deaden, shocks of tumult, shrieks of crime,
The shouts of folly, and the groans of sin.'

DESULTORY STANZAS,

UPON RECEIVING THE PRECEDING SHEETS FROM
THE PRESS.

Is then the final page before me spread
Nor further outlet left to mind or heart?
Presumptuous Book! too forward to be read,
How can I give thee licence to depart?
One tribute more: unbidden feelings start
Forth from their coverts; slighted objects rise;
My spirit is the scene of such wild art
As on Parnassus rules, when lightning flies,
Visibly leading on the thunder's harmonies.
All that I saw returns upon my view,
All that I heard comes back upon my ear,
All that I felt this moment doth renew;
And where the foot with no unmanly fear
Recoiled-and wings alone could travel-there
I move at ease; and meet contending themes
That press upon me, crossing the career
Of recollections vivid as the dreams

Of midnight,-cities, plains, forests, and mighty

streams.

Fancy hath flung for me an airy bridge
Across thy long deep Valley, furious Rhone!
Arch that here rests upon the granite ridge
Of Monte Rosa-there on frailer stone
Of secondary birth, the Jung-frau's cone;
And, from that arch, down-looking on the Vale
The aspect I behold of every zone;
A sea of foliage, tossing with the gale,
Blithe Autumn's purple crown, and Winter's
icy mail!

Far as ST MAURICE, from yon eastern FORKS,*
Down the main avenue my sight can range:
And all its branchy vales, and all that lurks
Within them, church, and town, and hut, and