University of Virginia Library

The solstice glares with noon-tide heat:
Hide me in thy dark caverns, Tivoli!
Breathe on me, thou cool air! that murmur'dst by:
And ye, that burst from flints beneath my feet,
Flow, crystal springs! around my summer seat:
And with you bring that fresh, that fragrant morn,
When first I viewed the day-spring's glancing beam
The mountain brows adorn,
And mingle with the wreathings of the foam,
That from the cataract's sunless stream
Flash'd up in rainbows round the Sibyl's dome.

Fam'd Tivoli! whoe'er in summer hour
Has glanc'd on thy green bow'r,
Or view'd thy Sibyl's temple, rob'd with light,
Tow'r on the rocky height:
Or under covert of the o'er-arching cave,
In subterraneous night,
Heard the hoarse gush and whirling of thy wave:
Or trac'd along thy flow'r-enamell'd mead
The maze, where Anio's crystal rivulet
Its current loves to lead,
Ne'er will his dream thy solitude forget:
Still his charm'd foot will on thy glade be found,
And sweet in Fancy's ear thy water-fall resound!—

Haunt I not yet that rocky crest,
Whence many a silver cascatelle
In tuneful murmurs fell?
That rocky crest, where oft Lorraine was found
Amid thy sun-light glades,
And dark-embow'ring shades,
Lone communing with Nature.—On that mound,
Where the hoar walls, that rear'd Mæcena's roof,
Tow'r on the cliff aloof,
Oft her rapt votary stood, encompass'd round
With woods, and flow of streams, and interchange
Of glade, and glen, and hill, and bolder range
Of mountains, where their distant boundaries spread
Unbroke, or tow'r'd apart some single head,
Albano, or Soracte.—On that brow
Oft, as a votary of the sun, on watch
To hallow its uprise, at break of day,
He, on the far horizon would survey,
O'er the gray aqueducts that stretch below,
The outline of a city underneath
Soft haze, that, ere the wind was heard to breathe,
Spread wide its lucid veil:—that city—Rome:
Rome waiting but the beam, to cast away
Its shroud, and, tow'ring into splendour, show
Earth its metropolis, and give her dome
To glory.—Far and wide as eye could roam,
A champain on the other side outspread
Th' extent, where earth in green fertility
Seem'd like a verdant sea:
Its boundary was a wilderness of wood
Dark'ning the sea-line:—and, beyond it, flow'd
A world that brightly glow'd,
Main ocean, on whose azure heav'n repos'd,
And the broad orb of light his course in glory clos'd.

'Twas there the votary of Nature went;
And from the shapings of his fancy, gave
To tow'r, or palace, or hoar monument,
The silver cascatelle, or sun-gilt wave,
Some height'ning touch, some new embellishment,
Such as th' enchanted spirit might adore,
And lovelier make the scene that loveliest seem'd before.

Rose from a wooded hill a dark-brow'd rock,
Whence gushing waters play'd?
There would his pencil place a shepherd swain,
A boy, beneath a grotto laid,
Who, all forgetful of his straggling flock,
Pip'd to a girl that danc'd in sun-shine on the glade.

Tow'r'd a bright palace in its pride?
In sparkling ripples at its feet
His blue-rob'd sea was seen to beat,
Where, on the fullness of the tide,
Impatient for its guests, a burnish'd bark
The swelling sail display'd,
That on the mansion's marble side
Its form in shadow laid,
While the bright sea-god on its prow
Burnt in the pictur'd wave below.—

In ruins fell Diana's shrine?
There tir'd, at eve, with sleep o'erpow'r'd,
Endymion lay embow'r'd,
His dog upon the boar-spear slumb'ring nigh:
None earth-born dar'd pass by;
But Cynthia came descendent from above,
Wooing a mortal's love;
While the pale light that from her crescent shone,
Fell on his brow alone.

Thus stood the master of each element:
Whether he drew the azure from the sky
When not a spot stain'd its transparency:
Or from Morn's roseate vest the sun-beam stole,
When from the eastern goal
A line of gold that on the ocean lay,
Levell'd the tremulous radiance that illum'd
The gates that close the day:
Or stay'd the Sun's vast orb, half-wheel'd in night,
Painting the champain's purple light:
Whether the Seasons in their fleet career
View'd his bright tints out-rivalling the bloom
That freshens the young year,
Or mellowing the colours that illume
The woods, when Autumn with her richest die
Deepens their changeful livery,
Till the last leaf falls withering.—Such, Lorraine!
Thy mastery, melting down thy blended hues,
Making all Nature, in her wide domain,
A charm to soothe the spirit to repose,
Like melodies that hang on Vesper's hymned close.