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 grace-
This 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

ness.

XXVI.

THE LAST SUPPER, BY LEONARDO DA VINCI, IN THE REFECTORY OF THE CONVENT OF MARIA DELLA GRAZIA-MILAN.

THO' searching damps and many an envious flaw

Have marred this Work; the calm ethereal grace,

The love deep-seated in the Saviour's face,
The mercy, goodness, have not failed to awe
The Elements; as they do melt and thaw
The heart of the Beholder-and erase
(At least for one rapt moment) every trace
Of disobedience to the primal law.
The annunciation of the dreadful truth

Made to the Twelve survives: lip, forehead,

cheek,

And hand reposing on the board in ruth Of what it utters, while the unguilty seek Unquestionable meanings-st.11 bespeak A labour worthy of eternal youth!

XXVII.

THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, 1820. HIGH 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 passed, -till Nature wrought A silent and unlooked-for change, That checked the desultory range Of joy and sprightly thought.

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 charmed,
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!

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

you?

While we looked round with favoured eyes, Did sullen mists hide lake and skies

And mountains from your view?

Or was it given you to behold

Like vision, pensive though not cold.

From the smooth breast of gay Winander.

mere?

Saw ye the soft yet awful veil

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?

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!

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 smiled—
The 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 frail 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 vigorous 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.

212

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;
There, 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!

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!

disown

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

lime.

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

grange,

For my enjoyment meet in vision strange;
Snows, torrents;-to the region's utmost bound,
Life, Death, in amicable interchange;--
But list! the avalanche-the hush profound
That follows-yet more awful than that awful
sound!

Is not the chamois suited to his place?
The eagle worthy of her ancestry?

release

Your noble birthright, ye that occupy Your council-seats beneath the open sky,

At the head of the Vallais.