How blest the souls who when their trials come
Yield not to terror or despondency,

But face like that sweet Boy their mortal doom,
Whose head the ruddy apple tops, while he
Expectant stands beneath the linden tree:
He quakes not like the timid forest game,
But smiles-the hesitating shaft to free;
Assured that Heaven its justice will proclaim,
And to his Father give its own unerring aim.

XXI.

THE TOWN OF SCHWYTZ.

By antique Fancy trimmed-though lowly, bred
To dignity-in thee, O SCHWYTZ! are seen
The genuine features of the golden mean;
Equality by Prudence governèd,

Or jealous Nature ruling in her stead;
And, therefore, art thou blest with peace, serene
As that of the sweet fields and meadows green
In unambitious compass round thee spread.
Majestic BERNE, high on her guardian steep,
Holding a central station of command,
Might well be styled this noble body's HEAD;
Thou, lodged 'mid mountainous entrenchments
deep,

mass and in detail. An Inscription, upon elaborately-sculptured marble lying on the ground, records that the Fort had been erected by Count Fuentes in the year 1600, during the reign of Philip the Third; and the Chapel, about twenty years after, by one of his Descendants. Marble pillars of gateways are yet standing, and a considerable part of the Chapel walls: a smooth green turf has taken place of the pavement, and we could see no trace of altar or image; but everywhere something to remind one of former splendour, and of devastation and tumult. In our ascent we had passed abundance of wild vines intermingled with bushes: near the ruins were some ill tended, but growing willingly; and rock, turf, and fragments of the pile, are alike covered or adorned with a variety of flowers, among which the rose-coloured pink was growing in great beauty. While descending, we discovered on the ground, apart from the path, and at a considerable distance from the ruined Chapel, a statue of a Child in pure white marble, unin jured by the explosion that had driven it so far down the hill. "How little," we exclaimed, "are these things valued here! Could we but transport this pretty Image to our own garden!"

XXII.

one should remove it from its couch in the wilderness, which may be its own for hundreds of years.-Extract from Journal,

TOP OF THE PASS OF ST GOTHARD.

I LISTEN-but no faculty of mine Avails those modulations to detect, Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect With tenderest passion; leaving him to pine (So fame reports) and die,-his sweet-breath'd kine

Remembering, and green Alpine pastures

decked

With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject
The tale as fabulous.-Here while I recline,
Mindful how others by this simple Strain
Are moved, for me-upon this Mountain named
Of God himself from dread pre-eminence-
Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,
Yield to the Music's touching influence;
And joys of distant home my heart enchain.

XXIII.

FORT FUENTES.

The Ruins of Fort Fuentes form the crest of a rocky eminence that rises from the plain at the head of the lake of Como, commanding views up the Valteline, and toward the town of Chiavenna. The prospect in the latter direction is characterised by melancholy sublimity. We rejoiced at being favoured with a distinct view of those Alpine heights; not, as we had expected from the breaking up of the storm, steeped in celestial glory, yet in communion with clouds floating or stationary-scatterings from heaven. The ruin is interesting both in

Nearly 500 years (says Ebel, speaking of the French Invasion), had elapsed, when, for the first time, foreign soldiers were seen upon the frontiers of this small Canton, to impose upon it the laws of their governors.

phurous blast,

This sweet-visaged Cherub of Parian stone So far from the holy enclosure was cast,

To couch in this thicket of brambles alone; To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm Of his half-open hand pure from blemish or speck; And the green, gilded snake, without troubling

the calm

image of the Patron Saint were untouched. The Mount, upon the summit of which the Church is built, stands amid the intricacies of the Lake of Lugano; and is, from a hundred points of view, its principal ornament, rising to the height of 2000 feet, and, on one side, nearly perpendicular The ascent is toilsome; but the traveller who performs it will be amply rewarded. Splendid fertility, rich woods and dazzling waters, seclusion and confinement of view contrasted with sealike 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, beauty, and sublimity, than perhaps any other point in Europe, of so inconsiderable an elevation, commands.

THOU Sacred 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.
But ne'er to human rage!

On Horeb's top, on Sinai, deigned
To rest the universal Lord:

Why leap the fountains from their cells
Where everlasting Bounty dwells?-
That, while the Creature is sustained,
His God may be adored.

Cliffs, fountains, rivers, seasons, times-
Let all remind the soul of heaven;
Our slack devotion needs them all:
And Faith-so oft 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 yearned to

seek,

Associate with the simply meek,
Religion in the sainted grove,
And in the hallowed grot.

Thither, in time of adverse shocks,

Of fainting hopes and backward wills,
Did mighty Tell repair of old-
A Hero cast in Nature's mould,
Deliverer of the stedfast rocks
And of the ancient hills!
He, too, of battle martyrs chief!
Who, to recal his daunted peers,
For victory shaped an open space,
By gathering with a wide embrace,
Into his single breast, a sheaf
Of fatal Austrian spears.

XXV.

THE ITALIAN ITINERANT, AND THE SWISS

GOATHERD. FART I. 1.

Now that the farewell tear is dried,
Heaven prosper thee, be hope thy guide!

*Arnold Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach, broke an Austrian phalanx in this

manner.

But thou, perhaps, (alert as free
Though serving sage philosophy)
Wilt ramble over hill and dale,
A Vender of the well-wrought Scale,
Whose sentient tube instructs to time
A purpose to a fickle clime:

Whether thou choose this useful part,
Or minister to finer art,

Though robbed of many a cherished dream,
And crossed by many a shattered scheme,
What stirring wonders wilt thou see
In the proud Isle of liberty!

Yet will the Wanderer sometimes pine
With thoughts which no delights can chase,
Recal a Sister's last embrace,

His Mother's neck entwine;

Nor shall forget the Maiden coy

That would have loved the bright-haired Boy!

III.

My Song, encouraged by the grace

That beams from his ingenuous face,

For this Adventurer scruples not

To prophesy a golden lot;

Due recompence, and safe return

To COMO's steeps-his happy bourne!
Where he, aloft in garden glade,

Shall tend, with his own dark-eyed Maid,
The towering maize, and prop the twig
That ill supports the luscious fig;
Or feed his eye in paths sun-proof
With purple of the trellis-roof,

That through the jealous leaves escapes
From Cadenabbia's pendent grapes.
-Oh might he tempt that Goatherd-child
To share his wanderings! him whose look
Even yet my heart can scarcely brook,
So touchingly he smiled-

As with a rapture caught from heaven-
For unasked alms in pity given.

PART II.

I.

WITH nodding plumes, and lightly drest
Like foresters in leaf-green vest,
The Helvetian Mountaineers, on ground
For Tell's dread archery renowned,
Before the target stood-to claim
The guerdon of the steadiest aim.
Loud was the rifle-gun's report—
A startling thunder quick and short!
But, flying through the heights around,
Echo prolonged a tell-tale sound

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

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-s: 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!

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 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

209

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 pro-

voke,

Hears combats whistling o'er the ensanguined heath:

What groans! what shrieks! what quietness in

death!