 | Poems of home and travel |  |
182
THE STATUE IN THE SNOW.
Numb and chill the Savoyard wandered
By the banks of frozen Seine,
Oft, to cheer his sinking spirit,
Singing low some mountain strain.
By the banks of frozen Seine,
Oft, to cheer his sinking spirit,
Singing low some mountain strain.
But, beside the wintry river,
Rose the songs of green Savoy
Sadder than on Alpine summits,
Sung by many a shepherd-boy.
Rose the songs of green Savoy
Sadder than on Alpine summits,
Sung by many a shepherd-boy.
From the bleak and distant Jura
Swept the snowy whirlwind down,
Flinging wide his shifting mantle
Over slope and meadow brown.
Swept the snowy whirlwind down,
Flinging wide his shifting mantle
Over slope and meadow brown.
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Like a corpse the silent landscape
Lay all stark and icy there,
And a chill and ghostly terror
Seemed to load the leaden air.
Lay all stark and icy there,
And a chill and ghostly terror
Seemed to load the leaden air.
Still that shivering boy went forward,
Though his heart within him died,
When the dreary night was closing
Dull around the desert wide.
Though his heart within him died,
When the dreary night was closing
Dull around the desert wide.
Through the desolate northern twilight,
To his homesick pining, rose
Visions of the flashing glaciers,
Lifted in sublime repose.
To his homesick pining, rose
Visions of the flashing glaciers,
Lifted in sublime repose.
Horns of Alp-herds rang in welcome,
And his mother kissed her boy—
But away his heart was hurried
From the vales of dear Savoy!
And his mother kissed her boy—
But away his heart was hurried
From the vales of dear Savoy!
For, amid the sinking darkness,
Colder, chillier, blew the snows,
Till but faint and moaning whispers
From his stiffening lips arose.
Colder, chillier, blew the snows,
Till but faint and moaning whispers
From his stiffening lips arose.
184
Then, beside the pathway kneeling,
Folded he his freezing hands,
While the blinding snows were drifted
Like the desert's lifted sands
Folded he his freezing hands,
While the blinding snows were drifted
Like the desert's lifted sands
As in many an old cathedral,
Curtained round with solemn gloom,
One may see a marble cherub
Kneeling on a marble tomb.
Curtained round with solemn gloom,
One may see a marble cherub
Kneeling on a marble tomb.
With his face to Heaven upturning,
For the dead he seems to pray,
While the organ o'er him thunders,
And the incense curls away.
For the dead he seems to pray,
While the organ o'er him thunders,
And the incense curls away.
Thus the Savoyard, pale and lifeless,
Knelt in Night's cathedral vast,
When the stars at midnight sparkled
In the pauses of the blast.
Knelt in Night's cathedral vast,
When the stars at midnight sparkled
In the pauses of the blast.
Paris, 1846.
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