XXIV. THE CHURCH OF SAN SALVADOR.
SEEN FROM THE LAKE OF LUGANO.
[_]
This Church was almost destroyed by lightning a few years ago, but the
altar and the 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 sea-like 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.
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