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 murmuring 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!
AFTER LANDING THE VALLEY OF DOVER. NOV. 1820.
WHERE be the noisy followers of the game Which Faction breeds; the turmoil where? that past Through Europe, echoing from the Newsman's blast, And filled our hearts with grief for England's shame. Peace greets us; rambling on without an aim We mark majestic herds of cattle free To ruminate*- couched on the grassy lea, And hear far-off the mellow horn proclaim The Season's harmless pastime. Ruder sound Stirs not; enrapt I gaze with strange delight, While consciousnesses, not to be disowned, Here only serve a feeling to invite That lifts the Spirit to a calmer height, And makes the rural stillness more profound.
Where Mortal never breathed I dare to sit Among the interior Alps, gigantic crew, Who triumphed o'er diluvian power! - and yet What are they but a wreck and residue, Whose only business is to perish? — true To which sad course, these wrinkled Sons of Time Labour their proper greatness to subdue; Speaking of death alone, beneath a clime Where life and rapture flow in plenitude sublime. 4.
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 FOREST, 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; Snowstorrents; — 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?
-Let Empires fall; but ne'er shall Ye disgrace Your noble birthright, Ye that occupy Your Council-seats beneath the open sky, On Sarnen's Mount‡, there judge of fit and right,
† At the head of the Vallais. LES FOURCHES, the pom which the two chains of mountains part, that enclose the Val lais, which terminates at ST. MAURICE.
Sarnen, one of the two Capitals of the Canton of Under. walden: the spot here alluded to is close to the town, and a called the Landenberg, from the tyrant of that name, whose château formerly stood there. On the 1st of January, 130 the great day which the confederated Heroes had chosen für the deliverance of their Country, all the Castles of the Go vernors were taken by force or stratagem; and the Tyran themselves conducted, with their creatures, to the front era after having witnessed the destruction of their Strong-hold From that time the Landenberg has been the place where the Legislators of this division of the Canton assemble. The st. which is well described by Ebel, is one of the most beautiful in Switzerland.
F.lng the soul with sentiments august The beautiful, the brave, the holy, and the just! 10.
No more; -Time halts not in his noiseless march- Ver turns, nor winds, as doth the liquid flood; Life ships from underneath us, like that arch Of ary workmanship whereon we stood,
Earth stretched below, Heaven in our neighbourhood. Go forth, my little Book! pursue thy way; Goforth, and please the gentle and the good; Nor be a whisper stifled, if it say
That treasures, yet untouched, may grace some future LAT.
The Bridges of Lucerne are roofed, and open at the sides, the Passenger has, at the same time, the benefit of shade, view of the magnificent country. The pictures are carted to the rafters; those from Scripture History, on the adal-bridge, amount, according to my notes, to 240. Sub
from the Old Testament face the Passenger as he goes the Cathedral, and those from the New as he returns. The Pictures on these Bridges, as well as those in most other per of Switzerland, are not to be spoken of as works of art; bet they are instruments admirably answering the purpose for what they were designed.
TO ENTERPRISE.†
KEEP for the Young the impassioned smile Shed from thy countenance, as I see thee stand High on a chalky cliff of Britain's Isle, A slender Volume grasping in thy hand - (Perchance the pages that relate The various turns of Crusoe's fate)- Ah, spare the exulting smile, And drop thy pointing finger bright As the first flash of beacon light; But neither veil thy head in shadows dim, Nor turn thy face away
From One who, in the evening of his day, To thee would offer no presumptuous hymn!
BOLD Spirit! who art free to rove Among the starry courts of Jove, And oft in splendour dost appear Embodied to poetic eyes,
While traversing this nether sphere, Where Mortals call thee ENTERPRISE. Daughter of Hope! her favourite Child, Whom she to young Ambition bore, When Hunter's arrow first defiled
The Grove, and stained the turf with gore; Thee winged Fancy took, and nursed On broad Euphrates' palmy shore, Or where the mightier Waters burst From caves of Indian mountains hoar! She wrapped thee in a panther's skin; And thou, whose earliest thoughts held dear Allurements that were edged with fear, (The food that pleased thee best, to win) With infant shout wouldst often scare From her rock-fortress in mid air The flame-eyed Eagle-often sweep, Paired with the Ostrich, o'er the plain; And, tired with sport, wouldst sink asleep Upon the couchant Lion's mane! With rolling years thy strength increased; And, far beyond thy native East, To thee, by varying titles known, As variously thy power was shown, Did incense-bearing Altars rise, Which caught the blaze of sacrifice, From Suppliants panting for the skies!
2. What though this ancient Earth be trod No more by step of Demi-god Mounting from glorious deed to deed As thou from clime to clime didst lead,
+ This Poem having risen out of the "Italian Itinerant." &re is here annexed.
Yet still, the bosom beating high, And the hushed farewell of an eye Where no procrastinating gaze A last infirmity betrays, Prove that thy heaven-descended sway Shall ne'er submit to cold decay. By thy divinity impelled,
The stripling seeks the tented field; The aspiring Virgin kneels; and, pale With awe, receives the hallowed veil, A soft and tender Heroine Vowed to severer discipline Inflamed by thee, the blooming Boy Makes of the whistling shrouds a toy, And of the Ocean's dismal breast A play-ground and a couch of rest; 'Mid the blank world of snow and ice, Thou to his dangers dost enchain The Chamois-chaser awed in vain By chasm or dizzy precipice;
And hast Thou not with triumph seen How soaring Mortals glide serene From cloud to cloud, and brave the light With bolder than Icarian flight? How they in bells of crystal dive, Where winds and waters cease to strive, For no unholy visitings,
Among the monsters of the deep, And all the sad and precious things Which there in ghastly silence sleep? Or, adverse tides and currents headed, And breathless calms no longer dreaded, In never slackening voyage go Straight as an arrow from the bow; And, slighting sails and scorning oars, Keep faith with Time on distant shores. Within our fearless reach are placed The secrets of the burning Waste, – Egyptian Tombs unlock their Dead, Nile trembles at his fountain head; Thou speak'st- and lo! the polar Seas Unbosom their last mysteries.
But oh! what transports, what sublime reward, Won from the world of mind, dost thou prepare For philosophic Sage, or high-souled Bard, Who, for thy service trained in lonely woods, Hath fed on pageants floating through the air, Or calentured in depth of limpid floods;
Nor grieves- tho' doomed thro' silent night to bear The domination of his glorious themes,
Or struggle in the net-work of thy dreams!
If there be movements in the Patriot's soul, From source still deeper, and of higher worth, "T is thine the quickening impulse to control,
Who to their destined punishment dost urge
The Pharaohs of the earth, the men of hardened heart Not unassisted by the flattering stars, Thou strew'st temptation o'er the path When they in pomp depart,
With trampling horses and refulgent cars- Soon to be swallowed by the briny surge
Or cast, for lingering death, on unknown strands; Or stifled under weight of desert sands- An Army now, and now a living hill* Heaving with convulsive throes, - It quivers and is still;
Or to forget their madness and their woes, Wrapt in a winding-sheet of spotless snows!
Back flows the willing current of my Song: If to provoke such doom the Impious dare, Why should it daunt a blameless prayer?
Bold Goddess! range our Youth among; Nor let thy genuine impulse fail to beat In hearts no longer young;
Still may a veteran Few have pride In thoughts whose sternness makes them sweet; In fixed resolves by Reason justified; That to their object cleave like sleet Whitening a tall pine's northern side, While fields are naked far and wide, And withered leaves, from Earth's cold breast Upcaught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.
But, if such homage thou disdain As doth with mellowing years agree, One rarely absent from thy train More humble favours may obtain ̧ For thy contented Votary.
She, who incites the frolic lambs In presence of their heedless dams, And to the solitary fawn
Vouchsafes her lessons-bounteous Nymph That wakes the breeze- the sparkling lymph Doth hurry to the lawn;
She, who inspires that strain of joyance holy Which the sweet Bird, misnamed the melancholy, Pours forth in shady groves, shall plead for me; And vernal mornings opening bright With views of undefined delight,
Heaved with convulsive throes, and all was still."
THE RIVER DUDDON rises upon Wrynose Fell, on The confines of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lanhire; and, serving as a boundary to the two last anties, for the space of about twenty-five miles, enters the Irish Sea, between the Isle of Walney and the Lordship of Millum.
TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH. WITH THE SONNETS TO THE RIVER DUDDON, AND OTHER POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION.)
THE Minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage eaves; While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green. Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings: Keen was the air, but could not freeze Nor check the music of the strings; So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?-till was paid Respect to every Inmate's claim; The greeting given, the music played, In honour of each household name, Daly pronounced with lusty call. And "merry Christmas" wished to all!
O Brother! I revere the choice That took thee from thy native hills; And it is given thee to rejoice: Though public care full often tills (Heaven only witness of the toil) A barren and ungrateful soil.
Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine,
Hadst heard this never-failing rite;
And seen on other faces shine
A true revival of the light
Which Nature and these rustic Powers, In simple childhood, spread through ours! For pleasure hath not ceased to wait On these expected annual rounds, Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate Call forth the unelaborate sounds, Or they are offered at the door That guards the lowliest of the poor.
How touching, when, at midnight, sweep Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark, To hear-and sink again to sleep! Or, at an earlier call, to mark, By blazing fire, the still suspense Of self-complacent innocence;
The mutual nod, the grave disguise Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er; And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more; Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.
Ah! not for emerald fields alone, With ambient streams more pure and bright Than fabled Cytherea's zone Glittering before the Thunderer's sight, Is to my heart of hearts endeared, The ground where we were born and reared! Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence, Where they survive, of wholesome laws; Remnants of love whose modest sense Thus into narrow room withdraws; Hail, Usages of pristine mould, And
ye that guard them, Mountains old!
Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought That slights this passion, or condemns;
If thee fond Fancy ever brought From the proud margin of the Thames, And Lambeth's venerable towers, To humbler streams, and greener bowers.
Yes, they can make, who fail to find, Short leisure even in busiest days; Moments, to cast a look behind,
And profit by those kindly rays
That through the clouds do sometimes steal, And all the far-off past reveal.
Hence, while the imperial City's din Beats frequent on thy satiate ear, A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe, That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy!
But as of all those tripping lambs not one Outruns his fellows, so hath Nature lent To thy beginning nought that doth present Peculiar grounds for hope to build upon. To dignify the spot that gives thee birth, No sign of hoar Antiquity's esteem Appears, and none of modern Fortune's care; Yet thou thyself hast round thee shed a gleam Of brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare; Prompt offering to thy Foster-mother, Earth!
Nor envying shades which haply yet may throw A grateful coolness round that rocky spring, Bandusia, once responsive to the string Of the Horatian lyre with babbling flow; Careless of flowers that in perennial blow
Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling; Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering Through icy portals radiant as heaven's bow; I seek the birth-place of a native Stream. - All hail, ye mountains! hail, thou morning light! Better to breathe upon this aëry height
Than pass in needless sleep from dream to dream: Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright, For Duddon, long-loved Duddon, is my theme!
TAKE, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take This parting glance, no negligent adieu !
A Protean change seems wrought while I pursue The curves, a loosely-scattered chain doth make; Or rather thou appear'st a glistering snake, Silent, and to the gazer's eye untrue, Thridding with sinuous lapse the rushes, through Dwarf willows gliding, and by ferny brake. Starts from a dizzy steep the undaunted Rill Robed instantly in garb of snow-white foam;
And laughing dares the Adventurer, who hath clomb So high, a rival purpose to fulfil;
Else let the Dastard backward wend, and roam, Seeking less bold achievement, where he will!
She guards thee, ruthless Power! who would not spare 'Mid sheltering pines, this Cottage rude and gray;
*The deer alluded to is the Leigh, a gigantic species long And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees;
I saw them ply their harmless robberies,
« AnteriorContinuar » |