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Such, (save that faithful animal,
Save that lamented dog, that seem'd to breathe,
At strife with death the ice beneath,)
Such were the scenes by Fancy oft display'd,
In Julian's tale portray'd.
But other, there before me came
Than Julian's tale had wont to frame,
The guides, who, 'mid those mountains rude,
Watch'd, day and night, the solitude.
No floating beard, with years grown gray,
White as the snow that crost their way,
Swept on their breast: no Alpine storm
Had left its traces on their form:
Nor toil, nor woe out pacing age,
Betray'd the sufferer's pilgrimage.
Onward they sped, in life's gay morn,
Like twins of happiest parents born:
Scarce yet had manhood 'gan invade
Their cheek, suffus'd with downy shade,
But life in all its freshness bloom'd,
And beauty glow'd, by health illum'd.

They, as their wont, upon the Alpine brow
That gaz'd on all below,
Intent on watch, had seen me on my way:
And down the mountain's rapid side,
Sped, o'er pathless snows to guide,
Ere plung'd in sudden night sank the broad orb of day.

Oh! could you doubt their kindness? could you doubt
Their transport, when they clasp'd a stranger's hand,
And to the wearied traveller pointing out
The convent's long-sought seat,
Prest him with welcome salutation bland
There to repose, and in that still retreat
Claim shelter from the bleak and bitter sky,
Claim home and hospitality.
Oh! if you doubt their transport, think on those
Who, from their cradled childhood, dedicate
To serve the priestly state
In dull observances, and formal rites,
That never knew repose,
Had past long listless days, and sleepless nights,
Where o'er their brow the cloister's gloom,
Had clos'd the living tomb,
Stealing from youth the blossom of its May,
Its sprightliness away:
Who now new-born to natural happiness,
Mid scenes of dire distress,
In the first lesson of the heart,
In sympathies divinely taught,
Felt what awaken'd energies impart
To swell exalted thought:
When, like twin eaglets, that on new fledg'd wing
Cleave the pure ether, revelling,
They drank the spirit of th' untainted wind,
That, not to them unkind,
New brac'd their vigour, and new nerv'd their frame,
To mate their heav'n rais'd aim,
To glorify their God in serving humankind.

They led me to the convent's open gate,
Where the undying fire lost strength restor'd:
They led me to the hospitable board,
Where, amid stranger guests, the Prior sate:
A man of years sedate,
Of reverend aspect, and commanding mein;
Yet courteous, as if wont to festival
Where lords and ladies grac'd the banquet hall,
His way of life had been.

Nor was it undelightful so to hear
In that sequester'd place,
Far from the dwelling of man's cultur'd race,
Fit converse suited to engage the ear
Of learned lore: such as the Prior spake:
Whose clear and gifted sense,
Might well th' attracted spirit captive take
With easy flow of natural eloquence.
For not his voice alone
Dwelt on distress, on those who perish'd there:
The stranger, and the native mountaineer,
Who in his rash career
Had chas'd from dawn till dark, o'er seas of glass,
The chamois to his solitude,
And scal'd the snows, and on their frozen mass
Hung, till it burst beneath him—not alone
Glanc'd on high-lineag'd dames, and men renown'd,
Who there had refuge found:
But communing with hoar antiquity,
And wrecks long lingering on the rocks above,
Told how the demon of idolatry
There hail'd the Pennine Jove:
And, of a later age, held learn'd discourse,
Of him of Carthage, whether o'er that mount
Or one of kindred name, his gather'd force
Toil'd, conquering nature, as her strength oppos'd,
And death the ice gates clos'd.
And at the closing of that transient hour,
I heard him, pondering on heav'n's will, recall
Him, his mail'd guest, that sterner Hannibal,
Who, from his war-rais'd throne, a god in pow'r,
Dol'd out the world—the Titan of our day—
The worshipped of Gaul:
Who like a meteor down the mountains past,
While on before him, heralds of his way,
Fame went and fell dismay,
Deep'ning the roar of thunder on the blast,
Ere on Marengo's plain death rang'd his war-array.

So past that eve.
Years since have past: but ne'er has memory ceas'd
Of thee, saint-founded residence! to weave
Unearthly visions, and recall that rest
Which more than sooth'd th' o'er-wearied limbs; that rest
Which sooth'd the soul: when, ere to sleep resign'd,
In the still peace and sanctuary of the roof
Where Faith, where Hope, where Charity abide,
I call'd from Heav'n fresh blessings on the blest,
The prior, and his brethren, and each guide,
Who, reckless of the raging elements,
Hear a celestial voice in every wind,
And glorify their God in serving humankind.