A traveller's thoughts or Lines suggested by a tour on the continent

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JOOOœOOOGOOOOOGGOOGOOOOOOOOO o BIBLIOTHÈQUE CANTONALE DU VALAIS SION *

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TRAVELLER’S THOUGHTS ;

T O U R ON T H E C O N T I N E N T .

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A D V E R T I S E M E N T .

A l l that the A uthor o f these St a n z a s has

attem pted, is to lay before his reader a rough sketch of those objects w ith which he felt him self the most interested, and a t th e same tim e to con­ vey the train o f thoughts they severally awakened in his mind.

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C O N T E N T S

F R A N C E .

In t r o d u c t i o n— T houghts on leaving home and landing in France— Paris— A spirit o f war and rebellion is lurking there— Napoleon— T he memory o f h is , greatness— Hôtel-des-Invalidcs— Sœurs-de-Cliarité— T he Cemetery o f Pére-la-C haise — T h e tombs o f Cuvier and his daughter Clem entine, o f N ey, Massena, David, Abelard and H eloise — Farewell to Paris.

S W I T Z E R L A N D AND

I T A L Y .

A distant view o f the Alps— T h e Perte-du-R hone— Geneva— T he castle of Chillon at m idnight— M ont Blanc— M er-de-glace— Maria-de- Mont Blanc— Castle-la-Bathia— Sion [the ancient oidunum ]— T he cascade o f Turtmann —T he Simplon— T h e town o f Brieg and the valley o f the R hone— T he gallery of G ondo— T he Doveria and

Fras-sinone— Chevalier Céard the chief engineer— T he first view o f Italy by m oonlight— T h e valley o f Fontana and V al-d’-O ssola— Lago Maggiore— Isola-B ella— T h e colossal statue o f S t Carlo Baromio— Napoleon’s triumphant arch— Milan— T he Austrian Guards— T he beauty o f the w om en— B lack eyes and blue eyes— Thoughts wander— T h e Cathedral— S t. Carlo Baromio’s shrine— T h e Course— T he great theatre o f Scala— T he Ambrosean College— Com o— A sabbath eve — Queen Caroline’s V illa — Lugano— Silk worms — T h e traveller benighted betw een Giornico and Faido— S t. Gothard—T h e Avalanche gallery— T h e Reuss— T h e chalets perched among the rocks— Biirglem the birth place o f T e ll— A ltdorf where he shot the apple from his son’s head— T h e lake o f the three Cantons— Storms frequently occur there— T e ll’s Chapel— G essler’s ruined Castle— Stauffacher, Fiirst, and Arnold,— where they nightly m et— T he great beauty o f the lake —-Mount Pilatus— T h e Rhigi— A thunder storm— Its echoes— T he chiming of b e lls— T e ll’s Shade— T he sun rise— T h o u g h ts—T he Rossberg—T h e villages destroyed by the falling o f part o f that moun­ tain— Kiissnacht where G essler was shot by T e ll— T he lakes of Sarnen and Lungern— T he glacier o f Rosenlaui— Its beautiful colour — T he Wetterhorn— T h e cascades o f the Reichenbach— T h e rainbows — Lake o f Brientz— T h e cascade o f Giesbach— T h e traveller passes behind one o f its falls— Song to Switzerland and Liberty— T he Staubbach— T he Iris— T h e VVengan Alp— T h e Jungfrau— T h e Sil- verhorn— T he W etterhorn— T he Faulhorn— T h e Schwartzerhorn— and Grand and P etit Eger— T h e Sw iss wom en— A sun-set from the ramparts at Bern— T he blush on the A lps— Farew ell to Switzerland.

T I I E R H I N E ,

AND

B E L G I U M .

T he falls o f tlfe Rhine at Shaffhausen— Baden— T he Neckar— H ey - delberg— T h e Rhine and its vineyards and ruined castles— A ix-la- Chapelle— Charlemagne— H is throne and tomb— T h e Meuse— N apo­ leon and W aterloo— P icton— Howard— W ellington— T houghts on war— Antwerp— R ubens— H is “ ascent and descent from the cross’’ in the Cathedral there— T h e Citadel— Chassé— Conclusion.

I N T R O D U C T I O N .

I.

In days of yore when Ha r o l d crossed the seas,'

Satiety had turned his mirth to woe,

H e found those pleasures would no longer please W hich revelry and sparkling wine bestow,

(The only pleasures he had lived to know) ; T hus, wearied with excess he turned away, No sigh was heard, no tear was seen to flow, As homeless, reckless of a home to stray,

Climates afar he sought, where scorching sun-beams play.

II .

N ot so, a youth, who leaves his cherished home T o scan the varied form of nature’s face ; W here’er the truant’s steps m ay idly roam, H is soul in fancy still will fondly trace T h a t home, which distance never can efface ; N or quits his hearth through dull satiety, B u t longs to traverse o’er a wider space, M ankind to contemplate with curious eye, Or, gaze on spots en-famed in olden History.

I I I .

N or h i s t h e e a g l e ’s w i n g s t h a t H a r o l d k n e w ,

On which to soar aloft and seek the light ; A lower height must e’er content his view, H e wends his course with slow unsteady flight, A nd dazzled shuns the m id-day’s sunbeam bright ; A nd oft he lags, and jad ed seeks the shade,

L ike the sad drowsy m oping bird of night, W ho loves to brood where nature lias decayed, And Tim e has ruthless been, tho’ spoiler’s hands have stayed.

IV.

Fa r e w e l l t h e P o e t ’s c liff' !* I w o u l d f u l l f a i n ,

A Muse like his would deign to follow me,

W ould leave lier classic rill, and plough the main, And wake her silent harp of minstrelsy :

B ut why lam ent since this can never be ? ’Twere vain in me to sue the sacred N ine, Since F ate has e’er decreed th at none bu t he, The son of N ature, kindly bom to shine,

Can wreaths of deathless bays around his brows entwine.

V.

M y country fades ! the faintest streak appears ! And now ’tis gone ! bu t H ope forbids to weep ; One pleasing thought my drooping spirit cheers, Yes, once again my eyes shall view th a t steep ! ’Tis now a stranger’s shore, whereon I leap ; Tho’ constant novelty the m ind enthrals, T his land awakes a sense th a t cannot sleep, And deeds of valour back to life recals,

VI.

Be h o l d where stands the capital of Fr a n c e !

T h e wondrous scenes thy latest history tells, Seem like the fictions painted in romance, On which the mind amazed—bewildered dwells. H ow m any a m anly breast in secret swells Among the fickle crowd I gaze upon, W ith deadly hate ; a spirit there rebels Against a M onarch’s sway, and thousands long T o join in open arms, the reckless m addening throng !

V II .A

N or has the past a lesson been to thee, T ho’ less had proved instruction to the wise ; A deeper tide of blood there yet m ust be Before th a t restless warring spirit dies,

A nd P eace dare quit her m ansion in the skies : T ho’ Pleasure holds lier court within thy walls, I hear a harsher note than her’s arise,

T h e drum’s loud beat in sullen accents falls, And louder than the drum, the brazen trum pet calls.3

V i l i .

F ar o’er the deep there rose a flaming star, W hich lit the frighted world w ith lurid light, Big with the destinies of direful war,

I t waxed in splendour with each bloody fight, Till blazing forth from its m eridian height On Au s t e r l i t z a gorgeous lustre threw, And trembling E u r o p e shuddered at the sight : T hat star grew pale as M oscow redder grew, And waned— and slowly sank, to set at W a t e r l o o !

IX .

Engendered first, ’mid anarchy of states, Nursed in the camp, and cradled in the war, Child of bright Genius, darling of the Fates, Thy god was fame, and glory was thy star. The deadly passions which contending jar, And tear the entrails of their parent land, Thou yokedftfiike dragons to thy iron car,

And proudly curbed?/them with thy m aster hand, To turn their headlong-speed where’er thy genius p la n n e d /

X.

D eserted Fr a n c e ! tliy master-mind has fled ! W here now the kingdoms which his sceptre swayed? W here now the legions vast his eagles led

Through seas of blood invincible to wade ? B u t where the m ight th a t time lias not decayed ? Im m ortal Fam e her lasting record keeps,

A nd there thy deathless nam e can never fade, Altlio'1 no angel o’er thy willow weeps,5

And exiled far from home, thy giant spirit sleeps !

X I.

W here’er I turn, this city holds to view Some image th a t recals the mighty dead ; In silence here we contem plate anew

T he dream-like features of the scene th at’s fled ; T he arch o f trium ph, and the sculptured head, T h e splendid palaces, and works of art, A nd e’en the sacred dust on which we tread T o kindred souls a feeling can im part ;

X II.

Beneath that gilded dome6 in clusters hang, A thousand banners of the vanquished foe, R are trophies gained from every blushing land

Save one, and here ’tis thine no shame to know ; I feel within a B riton’s spirit glow,

W hich proudly kindles as I gaze the while On all the spoils th at E u r o p e can bestow, Y et w anting one to crown the gorgeous pile, The dauntless flag th at streams o’er Al b i o n’s sea-girt Isle.

X I I I .

And can it be w ithin this warlike land, T h at tender pity dwells in hum an guise ? Ah ! yes, I see a heavenly sister band7 W ho justly claim a mission from the skies ; Their souls are fraught w ith hum an sympathies ; Like angels in disguise they gather round To smooth the pillow where the sick m an lies ; E v’n nobles’ daughters in this garb are found,

X IV .

N or cease with life the charities of love,

F or friendship’s last sweet care e’en yet attends T he honored dust th a t ne’er can soar above, B u t with its kindred clay returning blends : Go climb th a t hill,8 his there affection lends A lasting memory to countless dead ;

A grateful voice from every grave ascends, T he simple cross which marks the peasant’s bed Speaks louder th an the tomb w ith sculptured m arble spread !

XV.

There, rose and lily shed a rich perfume, And nightingales pour forth their softest lays, They strive to banish from the dreary tomb T he fearful shudder w hich its lion-ors raise, T h a t sickening thought, mortality decays ! ’T is here, the lover bending o’er the urn, W here crumbling into dust th a t heart now lies, W hich once w ith plighted love was wont to burn, H angs still another wreath, to wither in its turn !

X V I.

All cold and still within th at marble tomb, A noble father and his daughter9 rest, Nor could her piety avert the doom

W hich wrapped in dismal shrouds her bridal vest, And blighted all the hopes th a t love h ad blest : For none e’er breathed a holier flame than th in e ; Thy m am age w reath was wove— bu t heaven’s behest ’Twas, round thy sepulchre th a t wreath should twine, And thou the first to fade, angelic Cl e m e n t i n e !

X V II.

I saw one desolate and nameless grave Amidst the motley heaps th a t m ark the dead, B ut read no trium phs of the sleeping brave, For here, no m arble reared its sculptured head ; O’er the cold dust a lonely woodbine "spread, And sweetly blossomed on the mouldering clay ; M ethought, ’twould best adorn some widow’s bed, N ot grace the spot where one unhonored lay, The wayward child of w ar! the hapless gallant Ne y !'°

X V III.

T h e wise and great, the valiant, and august, H ere quickly leave the objects they adore, And, all th at’s mortal, mingles with the dust ; W hile faithful friends may linger and deplore.

Ma s s e n a here, thy countless wars arc o’er ;

Da v i d, thy pencil quits its finished task ; Sad love-sick H e l o i s e will dream n o niore, A nd sobbing wake, and strive with, feverish grasp T he image of her lord, her Ab e l a r d to clasp.

X IX .

T hou city of the dead ! sad, lovely spot ! Lost in remembrance, buried in the past, H ere, one m ight deem the present were forgot ! I dearly love this potent charm thou hast ! B ound by thy spell, I linger to the last,

And tread again each cherished hallowed m aze : W ithin the circle of thy confines vast

T here lives a chronicle of bye-gone days,

XX.

Pa r i s, adieu ! a long, a last adieu !

Farewell ! to all this fleeting world calls great, T he Lo u v r e, Lu x e m b o u r g, Ve r s a i l l e s, St. Cl o u d,

The fit abodes of royalty and state, Do all, the destinies of changeful fate In glaring colours to the stranger show ; H ere emperors may learn to abdicate The brightest crowns th a t fortune can bestow, So speaks the parchm ent" scroll, th at hangs in Fountainebleau.

A N D

X X I.

Th e Al p s ! the Al p s ! w hat grandeur in th at view ! Beneath, here, slowly winds the serpent So a n e !

There, rise the Py r e n e e s in azure hue ! And, far as eye can trace, the rapid Rh o n e Leads to the footstool of the Alpine throne, W here Eu r o p e’s kings magnificently stand ; And higher than the rest one sits alone, T he hoary monarch of the giant band,

X X II.

I fain would gaze, but evening’s lengthening shades, T each me through yonder vale to bend my way ; Soft tw ilight reigns amid the verdant glades ; T h a t rapid-rolling flood still chides delay ; T h o ’ oft along its shores I long to stay, A nd gaze upon its blue and lovely tide ; Or wondering peep at nature’s frolic play,

W here she awhile th at stream is pleased to hide From m an’s too prying eye, in caverns deep and wide.13

X X III.

Ge n e v a ! h o w I l o v e t h y g l a s s y l a k e ,

’Tis here, the weary soul might sink to rest, A nd lulled to slumber ne’er again to wake Repose for ever on thy tranquil breast.

H ere smiling peace would dwell a constant guest, And plenty pour her rich o’erflowing horn. I know no sweeter spot by nature blest F or m an’s delight ; with each successive m om Again more glorious scenes this paradise adom !

X X IV .

’Tis m idnight now, I feel its witching power. H ow softly shines the gentle orb of night,

A n d p o u r s o n Ch i l l o n’s v e n e r a b l e t o w e r A p a l l i d s t r e a m o f c h e q u e r e d s i l v e r y l i g h t !

And m ountains rise in dim stupendous height !

W h i l e Le m a n s l u m b e r s a t t h e i r r u g g e d f e e t ,

Nor swells one wave of sparkling chrystal white To wake the silent shore with distant beat,

Where watchful glow-worms shine, as thousand diamonds meet !

XXV.

Lord o f the Al p s ! " a pilgrim to thy shrine, I leave the peaceful scenes w hich lie below. I climb am idst thy lofty m ountain pine ; Now, dazzled view thy wilderness o f snow ; The spell’s dissolved—Lo ! how the torrents flow ! Here, Avalanche has burst— how yaw ns the wound— - The rocks are riven—’tis nature’s overthrow !

How fair, how verdant once th a t fated ground ; All now is desolate !— D eath’s trium phs here abound !

X X V I .

Amazed I stand on molten seas of glass ;ls Chasms yaw ning ’neath me, fathomless descend : 1 see a mountain-eagle slowly pass,

W ho from his stately course scarce deigns to bend ; H is eyry, where those countless spires ascend And seem to touch the deep blue cloudless sky, T h e lightning’s vivid flash alone can rend !

’T is here, th at man’s proud heart m ust sink and d ie; ’Tis death to gaze below ! ’tis vain to look on high !

X X V II.

T he hunter of the Al p s is wont to scale T h e eagle’s crag, the chamois’ dreary home ; Born in the bosom o f that verdant vale H e learns in boyhood on thy snows to roam, Or cross where torrents rage, and frantic foam ; And grown familiar with thy frozen face, H a s led e’en strangers to thy fearful dome ; And one fair daughter of this hardy race

X X V III.

By day— by night, in calms or angry storms, W hen closely viewed, or at a distance seen, I t m atters not,— thy endless giant forms Start from their base with such majestic mien, T he soul astonished reels.— T h e dazzling sheen Of thy eternal trackless spotless snows

W ell shadows forth the purity, I ween, Of Him at whose command thy sum m it rose To reign above the clouds, in lofty calm repose.

X X IX .

I o n w a r d p a s s b e n e a t h l a B a t h i a ’s17 t o w e r .

There, walls and dungeon moulder in decay ; Sad faded emblem of a bishop’s power, W ho held this lovely vale in iron sway ! I t r e a d o n Cæ s a r’s v e n e r a b l e w a y ,

T h at leads from Si o n’s grey m onastic steep ; And tarry for the roseate daw n of day,

W here T u r t m a n n’s lofty foaming torrents leap ; To c li m b t h e Si m p l o n’s b r o w , w i t h s l o w - a s c e n d i n g s w e e p .

XXX.

T he sun is up ! I mount the winding steep Amidst the m ighty pines that clothe its sides ; Down to th e vale I take a farewell peep, One tiny speck the feeble vision guides. I t marks a town,18 and there a river glides T h a t seems a silken twist, bu t now ’tis lost ! And forward still I climb with rapid strides Amidst the regions of eternal frost,

W here many an Avalanche, w ith thundering roar-has crossed !

X X X I.

T he summit past, a torrent19 leads the way ; T he m ountain opens as I onward tread, And towering proudly dims the light of day ; A world of rocks seems frowning o’er my head ; L o ! cascades leaping from their rocky bed

D escend from th at immeasurable height— Now like a mist—now waving like a thread Of silver, on a ground as black as night,

X X X II.

Oft through the chambers of the solid rock W ith tw ilight horrors clad, the road descends ; N or can a m ountain’s granite bosom block T he dread defile th a t it in vain defends ! H ark ! hark ! th a t cataract21 its anger spends B eneath the arch which trembled as I passed : For leagues this scene of grandeur never ends ! B u t each seems yet more wondrous than the last ; The gorge bu t deeper grows, the precipice more vast !

X X X III.

T he magic art this noble rout displays, Affords a pleasure novel to the soul ; A striking image of that m ind displays

W hose daring genius planned the wondrous whole !” ’Tis A rt and N ature strive to reach the goal ; For m any a weary league they run a race W here m ountains rise, and foaming torrents roll, T he one seems winner now, b u t soon gives place To N ature’s giant strides, and follows in her trace !

X X X IV .

Th e sun has set ; the moon begins her reign ; T he fire-flies flash incessant in the air— Yes ! now I see th at famed It a l i a n plain,*3 Spread out beneath the shining moon-beams there ! M ethinks, I ne’er beheld a land more fair,

More soft, luxurious, and sweet th an thine ! T h y rich and fruitful soil seems formed to bear T h e fattening olive, and the purple vine— From tree to tree I see, the pendant festoons twine !

’Tis here It a l i a’s„dark-haired daughters,

M ay wondering gaze upon the deep blue skies ; Or, to the Si m p l o n turn their jet-black eyes ; In thy green m irror they may daily see T heir own fair face, and every form th a t lies Reflected there ; tower, m ountain, town, or tree ; Or nightly count beneath, w hat glittering worlds there be !

X X X V .

Ma g g i o r e !. on thy sleeping waters, I view a pale e n d palace21 rise ;

X X X V I.

’Tis sweet to w atch the gorgeous setting sun G ild all the mountains rising on thy shore— See ! yonder bark returns, its labour done ; One moment— and I hear the plashing oar ; And now ’tis softly hushed— I hear no more. W ith fragrance on its wings, a breeze comes on ; And sighing yields the lake its balmy85 store ; T h a t form colossal80 waxes grey and wan ;

The landscape softly fades ; the king of day is gone !

X X X V II.

Behold, where th at proud arch87 in trium ph stands ! See Au s t r i a’s guards advance, arrayed in white, In files parading w ith their m artial bands ; Enslaved and fallen Mi l a n shuns the sight ! Beneath those veils, where woman’s eye shines bright, I see a lovely face of classic mould,

A form how slender, and a step how light ! B ut yet, not such as Fl o r e n c e can unfold ! W here beauty rivals her’s,89 who reigned in days of old.

X X X V III.

G a y Fl o r e n c e ! c o l d e r c l i m e s c a n b o a s t w i t h t h e e ,

B u t n o t o f c o a l - b l a c k < o r s a b l e h a i r ;

A softer charm is theirs, all womanly :

M ethinks, in eyes th at dazzle, pierce, and glare, Something there is, so darkly lurking there, T hey startle— scare. All harmless as the dove, I k n o w o n e n o r t h e r n e y e , s o s o f t, s o c l e a r ,

’Tis sweet to gaze on, blue as heaven above ; Such was thy peerless eye, thou sea-born queen of love !

X X X IX .

Thus as I wend me on my pilgrimage, M y thoughts will flit to one now far away— Forgive those words ! thou may’st not view this page ; T h o u may’st not know how oft m y soul would stray ' From giant forms, w hich nature’s m ight display,

E ’en back to nature’s loveliest, sweetest flower ! I did not bid each fond remem brance stay— I t came unasked—yet ne’er resigns its power, By day an image bright,— a dream at sleeping hour !

X L.

Behold the dazzling sheen of th at vast fane ; Its countless statues seem to touch the skies, And angel-like look down upon the plain As far as Al p s and Ap e n n i n e s arise : W hoe’er within this matchless temple hies W ill feel a holier flame illume his soul. In fragrant clouds the incense upward flies ; H ark ! through the sounding isles the, anthem s roll— One long loud hurst of praise, pervades the sacred whole !

X L I.

H e r e l i e s S t . C a r l o i n h i s c h r y s t a l s h r i n e ;s0

H i s d e e d s o f l o v e a d o m t h e s e s i l v e r w a l l s ;’°

B ut e’en where pomp and splendour thus combine, The form of death the .troubled heart appals : Alas ! thy mouldering corse bu t mockery calls Such pageantry am idst its cold remains, The blaze which on thy golden vestm ent falls Displays thy shrivelled skin, where throbbed thy veins, W hile life still breathed in thee, its pleasures and its pains !

X L II.

T hy deeds were good, thy fame has long to live ; T h y soul perchance now mingles with the blest ; N or can the boons, which mighty monarchs give Afford thy pure seraphic spirit rest !

W hy glares his ghastly form in gorgeous vest ? W hy hangs th at jew elled crown above his head ? T h a t heart, and emerald cross upon his breast ? Or golden cherub sentinels his bed ?

T heir orient splendour now, seems bu t to mock the dead !

X L I I I .

Mi l a n ! thy Co u r s e is peopled by the gay, T h y nobles wear a careless thoughtless smile ; B y night, w hat thousands bend their listless way W here diamonds sparkle bright in Scala’s3' pile, A nd music’s ’sweetest voice is heard the while !

S t . A m b r o s e’33 w a l l s a r e d e c k e d w i t h w o r k s o f a r t , A n d l e a r n e d v o l u m e s w r i t i n o l d e n s t y l e ;

B u t these to some no pleasure can im part, W hose duller souls ne’er grieve, tho’ brightest gems depart !

X L IV .

A Sabbath eve on Co m o’s verdant shore ! How many barbs are floating o’er the lake ! H ark ! hark ! I hear the cannon’s thundering roar, And now R a y m o n d a ’s33rolling echoes wake ! W hat m ultitudes the sultry town forsake ! Gay music steals from every m artial band ! B oth old and young the festive m irth partake ; W hat beauteous women crowd upon the strand ! And this a Sabbath eve ! T his called a Christian land !

XLV .

’Tis not for me to blam e ;—Is Lo n d o n free From scenes like this ? W h a t says the teem ing P ark W here fashion’s sabbath dearly loves to be ? W hat say those crowds who reeling home a t dark, By revelry this day of blessing m ark ?

W hat say those dulcet sounds w ithin our walls, W here some gay songstress carols like the lark, B ut veils the entrance of h er festive halls,

X L V I.

I l o v e t o f l o a t o n Co m o’s s e a - g r e e n t i d e ,

And view the olive groves along its shore ; By thy w hite walls Va r e n n a now I glide, Now towards th at villa stretch my lingering oar, W here lived a B r i t i s h Q u e e n,31b u t now no more ! W h a t splendid m ountains rise in verdant green ! W h a t balm y breezes on thy bosom pour ! N ature is rich— is lavish here, I ween,

O f all the hues, shades, forms, th a t deck the fairest scene.

X L V II.

Behold Lu g a n o b a s k i n g i n the s u n ,

She seems asleep upon h er rocky bed ; T heir early toil her daughters have begun, B eneath their vines they wind the golden thread ;3$ A nd N ature’s lap with opening flowers is spread ; M y fate forbids me longer here to dwell, I s o o n m u s t o ’e r S t. Go t h a r d’s s u m m i t t r e a d ,

And bid these lovely scenes a last farewell, A pilgrim to t h e shrine of freedom’s first-born, Te l l.

X L V III.

Now up the winding gorge,36 the rugged way, ’Mid towering heights by weary steps ascends : W hat horrid forms I see at close of day ! A mingled chaos in the darkness blends ! Nought, bu t the distant gleam the lightning sends By fits across my path, a m oment’s glare

And all is night— anon, the fire-fly lends H er wanton spark while flitting through the air, To pierce the dreadful gloom—to save me from despair !

X L IX .

League after league, I seek my night’s abode, These weary hours will never be forgot ! Hark ! mighty cataracts37 roar along my. road ; I breathe their chilling breath, bu t see them not! The pitchy darkness of this lonesome spot

At length displays a faint and distant light, Perchance some phantom —no, a friendly cot H angs out a beacon from the rocky height ; ’Tis here the way-worn wight, may haply pass the night.

L.

I slept at the foot of St. Go t h a r d’s throne, Lo ! now ’tis noon— I stand upon his brow ; H ere, m any a lovely plant by nature sown Blooms fresh and fair as melts the spotless snow ; Yes ! pain ted butterflies I see below ;

They sip the n ectar from some short-lived flower ; B lushing around, the Alpine-roses blow ;

Far, far beneath, I spy Ai r o l o’s tower ;

Behind, the H ospice38 once, long braved the snow storm’s power.

L I.

G rand as thou art, the Simplon rivals thee In rocky heights stupendous and sublime. E v ’n now, beneath thy snow-clad gallery,39 W here A valanche in spring and w inter time W as wont to sweep the daring sons th a t climb T h y sacred brow into the gulph below,

I pass unhurt ; nor trem ble at m y crime— I f crime it may be called, for one so low, T o overleap the bounds of th y wide trackless snow !

L U .

See ! where the R e u s s40pours forth its foaming surge, A rocky m ountain rears its frowning head :

M ethinks, th at tide sounds as a solemn dirge, Sung o’er the fearful grave of those who bled, And stained with gore thy roaring torrents, red ; Methinks, I hear the shriek of wild despair As fell that arch into thy rugged bed ;

Awhile, the thundering cannon ceased to glare, As horse and rider blent, in death lay m ingled there !

L I I I .

Perched in the crannies of a lofty rock, A Chalet’s lattice glitters in the sun ; T hat m ountain damsel tends her little flock W here’er the summer’s verdure has begun ; And now bright Phoebus’ daily course is run She leads them homeward to their pine-log fold ; H er free-born sire— her brothers one by one, The hardy tillers of the scanty mould,

LIV .

H o ld —now I tread where freedom’s children dwell ; ’Tw as here,41 the T yrant bid thee prove thy skill ; There,43 thou first drew thy breath, immortal Te l l,

W ithin th a t ham let on the verdant hill ; ’Twas there, thou felt thy life-blood first to thrill, T hy soul to kindle for thy Country’s sake ; T hou left thy lowly cot and purling rill A hated T yrant’s galling chain to break,

An outlaw ’mid the heights, th a t guard this blue-waved lake.43

LV.

Ye fair and smiling, but deceitful waves !44 W ho now beholds your easy swelling tide,

W hich round these heights w ith gentlest murmur laves, W ould deem, there lurked beneath an ocean’s pride ! T h a t these still waves in lofty mountains ride, And, ’mid their billows every bark m ust sink, W here one black caldron rages deep and wide— B ut, could that bark have lived, ’twere vain to think, Those ram part rocks would spare, th a t frown around the brink !

L V I.

The fame of o n e lives here, and ne’er has slept ! T hat Chapel marks the freeman’s daring leap ;v On yon grey rock the t h r e e16their vigils kept : A P atriot’s spirit hovers o’er the deep,

And haunts each mossy dell, each frowning steep. Ay ! long will vengeance brood where Ge s s l e r fell ;<7 O’er his lorn ruined tower no mourners weep. ’Mid giant scenes like these there well m ight dwell, The matchless soul th at fired the free-born breast of Te l l !

L V II.

I deem no other lake can boast like thine, Of every scene that’s beauteous and fair, W hile every form stupendous and sublime In frozen splendour rudely mingles there !

W hat can with Lu c e r n’s winning smile compare ? Or w h a t w i t h b o l d Pi l a t u s’ f r o w n i n g h e i g h t ,

Yon range of summits glittering in the air ? Say ! say !— can E u r o p e boast another sight So rife with every charm, to ravish and delight.

L V III.

A t eve, I climb the Rh i g i’s rugged brow ; I view a threatening cloud enw rap its s id e ; ’Tis rolling on—’tis red—’tis rending now—

H a ! see ! how bright, how swift the lightnings glide W ith vivid glare into the foaming tide

Fai-, far below ; they fill the burning lake ! T he sulphureous canopy rolls dense and wide Around its shore ; how wild the thunders break,— Trem ble the eternal hills, the ancient mountains quake !

L IX .

T h e first wild crash has past ! ’tis silence here ; T h e nearest m ountain now has heard th at roar, And backward flings its echoes on the ear, T heir lengthened peal seems louder th an before, So full, so deep, so dread, its thunders pour : T en thousand voices mingling reach the skies ; T hey feebler grow ; bu t one is heard—’tis o’er ; H u sh ! ’tis but fancy— no— for hark ! where rise Those peaks, one sullen m urm ur wakes awhile, and dies !

LX.

’Tis gone ! th at lurid cloud has spent its ire ; I t leaves the world to darlcness and to sleep : Now, slowly chimes a bell from unseen spire, How soft, how faint th a t sound, as zephyrs sweep The distant curfew tinkling o’er the deep !

’Tis hushed—bu t hark ! a second yet more near Peals forth with silver tone beneath yon steep ; Its warnings cease, b u t wake another here, And numbers still around, successive reach the ear !

L X I.

W hen every bell has spoke the m idnight hour, And all is lulled to rest ; when moon-beams play Where crags on crags in tw ilight grandeur tower Ev’n higher far than hunter climbs by day ;

Te l l’s s h a d e i s s e e n t o g l i d e , t h e p e a s a n t s s a y ,

From rock to rock ; high o’er the sleeping lakes H is deathless shafts are heard to wend their way ; The eagle flaps his wings, and screaming wakes ; The chamois dreads their sound, and forth from covert breaks.

L X II.

’T is early morn, the east is streaked with light ; A lingering m ist o’erliangs the pallid west ;

T he m ountain’s feet seem wrapped in drowsy night ; T h e lakes are shrouded in a cold grey vest ; T he universal world seems still at rest.

B u t see ! those frozen peaks have caught a ray O f new-horn light, which gilds each icy crest, A nd gently stealing downward marks the way O f the all-glorious one, the Exliaustless F ount of day !

L X III.

H e comes ! H e comes ! in splendour and in might, T h e golden s u n ! I hear the Alpine horn !

T he light has travelled down the m ountain’s side ; A gain the Alpine m instrel greets the morn ! From Ro s s b e r g’s heights his m atin song is hom e ; T he lakes grow red, and Ph œ b u s gilds the plains ; T h e m ist has gone ; one robe does now adorn All nature’s works ; nor yet one spot remains In drowsy sleep. Awake ! fresh vigour fill my veins !

L X IV .

Awake, my soul ! awake ; arouse, for now, Yes now, unmingled rapture thou shalt know ! W hile life, and youth their daylight dreams allow ; W hile still unm ixed with care, untinged w ith woe The life-blood’s first, fresh, joyous torrents flow.

Yes now, I feel the magic of this land, Of palaces and seas of ice ! where ilow

Ten thousand iloods from heaven, by fairy’s wand, Waved into silence all, and m elting kiss the strand.

LXV.

The land, where rivers rob their hue from heaven; W here hoary m ountains blush at even-tide ;

W here thunderbolts of snow the rocks have riven ; W here roses blossom on the glacier’s side ;

W here fire-flies flash and o’er the torrents ride ; W here N ight with deatli-pale Iris loves to roam ; W here Te l l’s wild spectre still is seen to glide ; W here N ature’s B abel rears its guiltless dome ; Where freedom, ay and love, have ever found a home !

L X V I.

’Twere vain indeed to count those Alpine peaks, T o nam e the seas which lie beneath their feet ; T h e eye bew ildered ’m id their splendour seeks Some tranquil home, some quiet cool retreat : T here, where those woody slopes in olive meet, B ehold the T yrant’s grey and ruined tower ! E astw ard I gaze, on once the happy seat O f smiling ham lets,48 in one hapless hour,

L aid waste, and prostrate ’neath that mighty m ountain’s power !

L X V II.

I pass by Sa r n e n’s lake and Lu n g e r n’s wave ;

Bo s e n l a d i now, I climb thine icy spires, I w ander through each m agic crystal cave,

W hich sparkles bright with thousand wondrous fires : T hy virgin purity, w hich still conspires

To hold by m agic ra p t the wildered eye, W here the cold shadow falls a tint acquires O f deepest blue,— it shames the pallid sky :

L X V III.

And higher still, th a t P yram id19 of snow, Looks down upon this wild, this m atchless scene, As m onarchs gaze upon a prostrate foe ; I t reigns arrayed in dazzling silvery sheen, From age to age— eternally, I ween,

Breathes forth the icy breath th a t chills its side, And every stranger’s soul th a t here has seen Its frozen image reared in lofty pride, Amidst the fading stars, at early m orning tide.

L X IX .

The Re i c h e n b a c h flows on, each wild cascade A shining messenger from Jo v e detains,

W hen flaming Ph œ b ü s h a lf his course has made, In is again her heavenly m ansion gains :ä0 This flood will lead me to the fertile plains ; And now on Br i e n t z tide I stretch m y oar ; Around these m ountains dreary silence reigns, Save as the zephyrs bring the distant roar

LX X .

H ow wild this spot I11 the waters o’er me roar, T hey headlong fall betw ixt me and the sky, F ar, far, below, their chilling torrents pour ; One step divides me from eternity !

I creep beneath this dripping rock, and see O f varied hue descend, a w ateiy sheet, W hich forms in m ist a m ighty Canopy. F or some fair N aiad sure this spot were meet, T he genius of the falls— but void is lier retreat !

L X X I.

H aply she’s charmed to yonder C halet’s side, F or list ! wild music steals upon the ear, I t rises now, it echoes far and wide ; And louder grown, and fuller and more near A chorus swells in accents shrill and clear ; Soft voices mingle with the Alpine horn.

T hese strains52 oft cost the wandering Sw iss a tear : W hen heard away from home, his h eart is hom e B ack to his fatlier-land, from whence ’twas bleeding torn.

S O N G .

1

Land o f mountains ! land o f snow s ! Joyous land o f liberty !

W here a S p a u t a n sp irit glow s, Spirit o f Thermopylæ !

W here’s the Tyrant ? W here’s the foe ? Stranger, te ll m e, dost thou k n ow ? Graves are all I n ow can see !

S w i t z e b l a n d and Liberty !

c u o n v s . W here’s the Tyrant, &c.

2

N ature’s children, w ise, and hrave, Are you men as once o f old ? Is there one would be a slave ? One be bought by paltry gold ? B y the fane, where Ge s s l e r fell ; B y the sacred shade o f T e l l ;

B y the flash, that scathes the fir ; S till we are the men w e were !

C H O R D S . By the fane, where &c.

3

N o w that battle’s strife is o’er, Crowning you w ith victory, W ill you revel evermore, Plunged in slothful luxury ? Stranger, tho’ w e live in peace, Hunter’s perils never cease, P erils thou may’st vainly guess ’Mid our frozen wilderness !

C H O R D S . Stranger, tho’ we &e.

4

Stranger, here 'twere vain to woo, E i e the swain had learned to war ; E*re his aim fell dead and true, ’Mid the Chamois from afar.

S w i t z e r l a n d has Spartan gam es,

Lovers there contend for dames ; W inners there, may wooers be, A s in days o f Chivalry.

C H O R U S .

S w i t z e r l a n d h a s Spartan &e.

5

T e ll us not o f coal-black eye ; T e ll us not o f sable hair ; T hese b u t speak to o m ournfully, Alpine damsels should be fair ; Fair w e w een, w ith eyes o f blue ; L ocks o f orient golden hue ; Hearts which ever w ill be free,

S w i t z e r l a n d and Liberty ! CHORUS.

6

Land o f mountains ! Land o f snow s ! Joyous land o f liberty !

W h ere a Spa iitan sp irit glow s,

Spirit o f Thermopylæ !

W here's the T yrant ? W here’s the foe ? Stranger, tell me, dost thou know ? Graves are a ll I now can see ! Sw i t z e r l a n d and Liberty !

C H O R U S . W here’s the T yrant ? &c.

L X X II.

T h e s u n i s s h i n i n g f u l l o n St a u b b a c h’s“ s t r e a m ; H e r f l e e c y l o c k s a r e w a v i n g f r e s h a n d f a ir ,

A nd every silvery tress attracts a beam B righter than diamonds in a lady’s hair. B ehold th at cloud, an Iris sitting there, W ith painted bow am idst the dazzling light, R eigns queen of all ; to dreams one may compare T h a t flood by magic mute, which vaults the height— And frolics in mid-air, as ’twere unwilling to alight !

L X X III.

A t m o m , I c l i m b t h e W e n g a n’s Al p i n e s t e e p ,

And see arrayed in spotless purity,

The virgin queen of m ountains wake from sleep ; Thy misty veils slow m elting upw ard flee ; The bashful garb of thy virginity,

Inwraps thy cruel breast in dazzling white— Perchance there is a heart which cold like thee, Love never yet has moved, nor can invite

Its proud, relentless self, at H ym en’s fane to plight !

LX X IV .

’Tis strange th at thou shouldst hold a nam e51 so fair ! Thy angry voice still thunders in my ears ; Yon lofty frozen peaks,” grown hoary there, Have stood with thee through all the countless years, By night and day, thy veteran compeers

Since time began ;— where then thy boast of youth ? No smiling verdure on thy side appears,

Or lovely blooming flowers, its surer proof ; Far from thy barren breast, the living stand aloof.

L X X V .

N ot so thy daughters, happy Sw i t z e r l a n d !

1 love to see your sparkling clear blue eyes, A nd rosy cheeks by purest breezes fanned,

Your tresses floating ’mid the zephyrs sighs ; W arm are your hearts, there sweet contentm ent lies, And prints a dimple on each smiling face, W hich speaks that joy the free-born heart supplies ; H ere beauty too bestows a truer grace,

A form, in servile lands, th at goddess ne’er can trace.

L X X V I.

T he sun descends,— I ne’er shall see again T h a t sun go down and gild each kingly head. U pon these ram parts46 mournful I remain, And fondly watch the changeful tints th at spread O’er each hoar brow, as those around the bed O f sickness mark each hurried flush th a t sweeps Across the pallid cheek, ere life has fled ; So here, I lingering gaze ; my sp irit weeps ; Like dearest parting friends, I view those Al p i n e steeps.

L X X V II.

A ciusky hue comes creeping o’er the plain ; Lo ! now, m ethinks, it climbs each m ountain’s side ; Their gold grows dim, their glory’s on the wane, As up the heights the murky shadows glide ; W here now your life, and light, and gorgeous pride ? Methinks, those giaut forms w ax cold and dead. But see ! they breathe again, for far and wide, There kindles on their snows a ruby red ! A moment too— and th at last hectic flush has fled.

T H E

R H I N E

AND

L X X V III .

Ye wondrous falls,17 H ow vast your angry sea !

Since time began, till time shall be no more, Through all the ages of futurity,

Your mighty waste of waters still will pour, Nor cease awhile their thundering deafening roar. A speck, a mite, a helpless worm, I feel,

And tremble standing on your sounding shore ; O’er the wild tum ult of your surge I reel;

L X X IX .

B ut hold ! a thought has crossed my giddy brain. T his wide majestic tide m ust cease to How, Tim e will disclose its splendour on the wane ;

“ T his speck, this m ite, this helpless worm” will show Itse lf immortal, while the flood below,

W ill vanish as a dream at daw n of day.

Yes ! then proud river thou shalt have to know T hyself an emblem formed but, to decay,

And thine the fate of things, which eartli-bom pass away !

L X X X ..

A n d n o w I g a z e o n B a d e n ’s18 m o t l e y c r o w d ,

W here beauty walks, and fashion loves to flaunt. I see the rich, the poor, the gay, the proud, And e’en the sick this scene of pleasure haunt, And force a smile, as if in health to vaunt Some dear enjoyment once, they now abhor ;

T he poor were rich, but they m ust bear the taunt,— At such the finger raised in scorn I saw,

L X X X I.

High on that hill which frowns o’er Ne c k a lVs tide, There lives a monument19 of bye-gone days.

Amidst its roofless walls, and ram parts wide By lightning scathed, by fire, by deadly frays T hrice ruined, yet e’en thus the wreck displays A form far more majestic still, I ween,

T han when its festive lord sat crowned with bays, ’M id glittering crowds, and with a m onarch’s mien Quaffed the o’erflowingbowl, and pledged his blue-eyed Queen.

L X X X II.

M y b a r k i s f l o a t i n g o n t h e l o v e l y Rh i n e,

Nor stays to count the ruins on its steeps, Or gaze upon the tem pting purple vine,

T h at crowns these verdant slopes, and downward peeps; W hile this gay river to the ocean sweeps,

I t smiles, not weeps though grandeur’s reign is o’er : At every bend some giant fortress keeps

Its mute and deathlike guard along the shore, No watchman on its tower, no warder at its door !

L X X X III.

T hy ashes Ch a r l e m a g n e are sleeping there !6° A nd here I sit upon thy marble throne:

W here now the terrors of thy sword? and where T h y regal pom p? this worn and mouldering stone T o tell w hat once thou w ast, remains alone ; And yet methinks, it speaks with louder tongue T h an monuments w ith gold and silver strown, W ith blazoned arms, or gaudy tinsel hung,

O r decked w ith pompous strains, by hireling minstrels sung.

L X X X IV .

A l o n g t h e r o c k y v a l l e y o f t h e Me u s e,

I bend my steps to visit scenes of strife, I quit these picturesque, these peaceful views, F or blood-stained fields with fame and carnage rife. T ho’ every B riton loves as dear as life

H is freedom bought by hearts as brave as true, Y et far away, the mother, sister, wife

Still curse th a t fight, and pour th e n tears for you W ho found a hero’s grave— the boon of Wa t e r l o o !

LX X X V .

Th a t flaming star, which ’frighted all the world And m onarchs held enslaved, a countless train, Down from its height by H eaven’s vengeance hurled Fell like a m eteor on this smoking plain,

And sank in blood extinguished ’mid the slain. But yet not vainly flowed th at life-blood tide, W hich ransomed Eu r o p e from the tyrant’s chain. T hy glory W e l l i n g t o n will e’er abide

Where conquering Pi c t o n fell, and gallant H o w a r d died.

L X X X V I.

How little now to mark this scene of death !G1 How still the graves where thousands ’ncath the sod H ere gasped in deadly strife their latest breath, ’M idsighs andgroans; w hereblood-stainedhoofshave trod ;

W here countless plum es were seen awhile to nod, As front to front the glittering cohorts stood ; W here death raged on, a fierce avenging god, And revelled long amid the waste of blood,

L X X X V II.

W hen will the fiend, the direful fiend of war R ide on the blast, and scorch the world no more ? W hen will th at god dism ount his iron car, N or wade again ’m id tides of reeking gore ? Shall e’er be lulled to rest the cannon’s roar ? Oh ! curst Am bition in the breast of kings ! F or sure, will H eaven its wrathful vials pour So long as m an to lust of empire clings ; H im self upon himself, its awful vengeance brings !

L X X X V III.

An t w e r p, thy C itadel lies prostrate here ; I mournful stand upon its ruined wall ; T hese mounds but yesterday the hero’s bier W ill soon be shrouded in a grassy pall.

’Twas there the legions armed by hostile Ga o l,

Intrenched in thousands, round thy ram parts lay; H ere, as th y bulwarks one by one did fall, T he gallant Chassc held thy foes at bay, And vainly courted death, amidst that fearful fray.

L X X X IX .

This city Ro b e n s speaks thy deathless fame,

Upon these walls68 thy pencil’s wondrous art W ithin the soul can raise a holy flame,

W hich kindles as we gaze, and fills the heart ; Such the soft magic power thou canst impart.

For say, who can behold this Bleeding-ONE Pierced on the cross, nor horror-stricken start !

H is world of woe ! his agony begun !

Lo! the m a n of sorrows,—yet, still J e h o v a h’s So n!

XC.

Bu thush ! my wan de rip g thoughts now turn to home. In after years my memory will dwell

Where I in youth’s gay dream was wont to roam ; For nought but death can break the magic spell, T h at binds my heart, and bids my bosom swell, W hene’er my fancy paints afresh each scene 1 loved to view ; and oft my tongue will tell, Again its thrice-told tale to those, I ween,

xcr.

M y soul will hover still where Le m a n sleeps ; Yes ! wing its flight o’er m ountains clad in snow ; Or climb the summits of their rocky steeps, And gaze upon the purpling lakes below ;

O r w a t c h t h e Al p s’ e x p i r i n g c r i m s o n glow ; Or lave in Co m o’s soft, and sea-green tide ; Or peep at Ir i s where her waters flow ;

O r p a s t t h e s h r i n e o f Te l l i n r a p t u r e g l i d e ;

Ah, yes ! ’mid scenes like these, my heart will still abide !

X C II.

A thousand pictures in my memory live, I would not p art with for a monarch’s throne ; ’Tis all the treasure th at the past can give, T h e only treasure I can call my own. N or can creation’s fairest works be known, A nd not one thought of rapture m ixed w ith awe, Ascend to H i m, whose wondrous hand is shown . Alike from pole to pole, from star to s ta r;

xeni.

Thought, is the dearest boon from Go d to m an ; A world within— ’tis formed to live and move ; A world, eternity alone can span ;

W here the fond soul can cherish,— ay can love— Can show an innate evidence to prove

A part immortal mingles with our clay ; A thing all bodiless it soars above ; Man can his M aker’s image thus display,

N O T E S

T O A

N O T E S .

F R A N C E .

I

In days o f y o r e when H a ro ld crossed the seas,

St a n z a I .

See C H i l d e H a r o l d , Canto 1 .

■2

F arew ell the P o et's C liff! I w ou ld f u l l f a in ,

S t a n z a IV .

S h a k s p b a r h ’s Cliff, D over.

3

A n d louder than the drum the brazen tru m p et calls.

S t a n z a V I I .,

W hile in Paris, the stranger cannot fail to remark the frequent sound o f martial m usic in the streets.

4

T o turn th e ir headlong-speed where'er th y gen iu s p lan n ed !

S t a n z i IX .

It w a s t h e g e n iu s o f Na p o l e o n, t h a t t u r n e d t h e f ie r y s p ir it o f t h e R e v o lu t io n in t o a w a r lik e c h a n n e l , a n d d ir e c t e d it a g a in s t f o r e ig n p o w e r s to h is o w n a g g r a n d iz e m e n t .

5

A lth o' no angel o'er th y willow weeps,

S t a n z a X .

A w illow grow s over N a p o l e o n ' s grave in St. H elena.

6

B eneath th a t g ild e d dome in clu sters hang

S t a n z a X II.

T h e gilded dom e o f the H ûtel-des-Invalides.

7

Ah ! y e s , I see a heavenly siste r hand

S t a n z a X III.

T h e sceurs-de-Charité, som e o f w hom are o f n oble fam ily.

8

Go clim b th a t h ill, 'tis there affection lends

S t a n z a X IV .

9

A noble f a th e r and his d a u g h ter rest,

S t a n z a X V I.

C l e m e n t i n e C u v i e r , the lo v e ly , accom plished, and pious daughter o f the celebrated Baron C u v i e r , w ho died at the tim e previously fixed for her w edding.

10

T he w a yw a rd ch ild o f w ar ! the hapless g a lla n t N e y !

S t a n z a X V II.

Marshal N e v ' s m onum ent had been removed b y order o f the late governm ent.

11

So speaks the parchm ent scro ll th a t hangs in Fountainebleau !

S t a n z a X X .

T h e parchm ent written b y N a p o l e o n , and con tainin g h is abdication before g o in g to E lb a , is show n at Fountainebleau.

AND

S W I T Z E R L A N D ,

I T A L Y .

12

A n d fro w n s in stilln ess d re a d o'er the w ide p ro s tr a te land !

S t a n z a X X I .

T h is v iew is seen from the h eights beh in d L y o n s, the blue m ountains to the right are a continuation o f the P yrenees.

13

From man's too p r y in g eye, in cavern s deep and w ide.

S t a n z a X X I I.

T h e natural curiosity o f the Perte-du-R hone.

14

L o rd o f the A lp s ! a p ilg r im to th y shrine

S t a n z a X X V .

A m a ze d I sta n d on molten seas o f g la ss,

S t a n z a X X V I . T he M er-de-glace.

10

H as dared upon th y brow her g id d y f o o t to place !

S t a n z a X X V I I. M aria,-de-M ont B la n c.

17

I onward pass beneath la B ath ia's tow er,

S t a n z a X X I X .

T h is picturesque ruin w h ich overlooks the D ranse, belonged to the Prince B ishops o f S io n (the an cien t S id un u m ), remarkable for its isolated craggs, surmounted b y th e ruins o f a castle, and two palaces.

18

I t m arks a tow n, and there a riv e r g lid e s

S t a n z a X X X . B rieg on the R h on e.

19

T h e su m m it p a st, a to rre n t leads the w ay,

S t a n z a X X X I . T h e D overia.

20

S te a l down some w ild abyss, and vanish f r o m the sig h t !

St a n z a X X X I .

T he gorge is enclosed b y perpendicular rocks from 1 ,5 0 0 to 2 0 0 0 feet h ig h .

21

H a r k ! h a rk ! th a t ca ta ra ct its an g er spends

St a n z a X X X I I .

T he Frassionone, w h ich plunges into the D overio under a bridge at the term ination o f the G allery o f G ondo.

22

Whose d a rin g gen iu s pla n n ed the wondrous whole !

St a n z a X X X I I I . Chevalier C éard.

23

Y e s ! now 1 see th a t fa m e d Ita lia n plain

St a n z a X X X I V .

T he valley o f Fontana, and im m ediately afterwards the V al-d’-O ssola com es in view .

24

1 see a pale enchanted palace rise,

St a n z a X X X V .

25

A n d sig h in g y ie ld s th e lake its balm y store ;

St a n z a X X X V I .

T h e air is com pletely scented w ith the profusion o f flowers on the Isola Bella.

26

T h a t fo r m colossal waxes g r e y and w an ;

St a n z a X X X V I . St. Carlo Baromeo’s colossal statue.

27

B ehold, where th a t p ro u d arch in trium ph stands !

S t a n z a X X X V II.

N ap oleon ’s A rch, w h ich terminates the Sim plon-road at M ilan.

28

Where beauty riv a ls her’s, who reig n ed in days o f old.

St a n z a X X X V I I . The V enus-de-M edecis.

29

H ere lies S t . C arlo in his c h ry sta l shrine,

St a n z a X L I .

T h e chrystal coffin is invaluable, and the silver and gold w hich adorn this shrine are estim ated, in d ep en dently o f their w orkm an­ ship, at 2 ,0 0 0 ,0 0 0 francs,

30

H is deeds o f love adorn these s ilv e r w alls ;

S t a n z a X L I.

Silver bas-relevos illustrating the pious actions o f S t. Carlo.

31

W here diamonds sparkle b rig h t in S cale's p ile,

S t a n z a X L I I I . T h e great Theatre o f Scala.

32

S t. Am brose' w alls are decked w ith w orks o f a rt,

S t a n z a X L I II .

T he Ambrosian C ollege contains beautiful pictures, and a most valuable library.

33

A n d now Ratymonda's ro llin g echoes wake !

St a n z a X L I V .

T he villa R aym onda w h ich serves as a lou n ge for the in habi­ tants o f C om o, and is situated about a m ile from the tow n.

31

W here liv e d a B ritis h 2ueen, bu t now no m ore !

S t a n z a X L V I.

35

B eneath th e ir vines th e y w in d the g olden thread,

St a n z a X L V I I .

Great numbers o f silk-w orm s are kept here.

36

Noto up the w in din g g o rg e , the r u g g e d w a y,

St a n z a X L V I I I . From G iornico to Faido.

37

H a rk ! m ig h ty cataracts roar along m y road,

S t a n z a X L IX .

Innum erable Cataracts pour into the T icin o .

38

B ehind, the H ospice once, long braved th e snow-storm 's power.

Stanza L .

T h e H ospice was destroyed during the French R ev o lu tio n .

39

E'en now, beneath th y snow -clad g a lle ry ,

S t a n z a L I.

A n A valanche gallery has been constructed over the most dangerous part o f the road.

40

See ! where the R eu ss po u rs f o r t h its fo a m in g su rge,

S t a n z a LIT.

T he D evil's-b rid ge was the scene o f a dreadful encounter between the F rench and Im perialists in 1 799.

41

’T w as here, th e T y r a n t b id thee p ro ve th y sk ill,

S t a n z a L IV .

Altdorf, where Te l l is said to have shot the apple from his son ’s head.

42

T h ere, thou f i r s t drew th y breath im m ortal T ell,

S t a n z a L IV . B ü rg lem .

43

A il outlaw 'm id th e h eig h ts, th a t g u a r d th is blu e-w aved lake.

S t a n z a L IV .

T h e lake o f “ the three C antons”.

44

Y e f a i r and sm ilin g , b u t d eceitfu l w aves !

S t a n z a L V .

This, in com m on w ith m ost o f the S w iss lakes, is subject to most sudden, an d violen t storms.

45

T h at Chapel m arks the fre em a n s d arin g leap,

S ta n z a L V I

T h e lake is hem m ed in b y the greater and lesser A chsenberg, w h ich rise perpendicularly from its sh ore.— T h e C hapel stands on a small tabular rock, the on ly landing place.

46

On polì g r e y rock the th ree th e ir v ig ils kept :

S t a n z a L V I.

Slauffacher, Fiirst, and Arnold.

47

A y ! long w ill vengeance brood where G ess/er f e ll ,

S t a n z a L V I.

A chapel marks the spot near K iissnacht, w here m ay be seen also the ruins o f Gessler’s castle.

48

O f sm ilin g ham lets, in one hapless hour

S t a n z a L X V L

G oldau, Busin gen , upper and under R ü ther, w ith 457 inha­ bitants perished on the 2nd Septem ber, 1 8 0 6 , b y the fall o f a portion o f the R ossberg.