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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
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WRITTEN IN VIRGIL'S TOMB.
Not in fond dream of fancy, Bard divine!
I bring this laurel branch, that wav'd aloof,
Sweeping the sunbeam from thy funeral roof;
But—as a votary at the Delphic shrine,
Hid from the world in this sepulchral gloom,
I wreathe th' unfading leaf, and wind around thy tomb.
I bring this laurel branch, that wav'd aloof,
Sweeping the sunbeam from thy funeral roof;
But—as a votary at the Delphic shrine,
Hid from the world in this sepulchral gloom,
I wreathe th' unfading leaf, and wind around thy tomb.
Thy tomb! how void! how wildly desolate!
In this neglected spot no urn remains,
No relic that a trace of thee retains:
Thee, whose bold song could world's unseen create,
And to the shadowy forms of Fancy gave
Life and perpetual youth, that ne'er shall know the grave.
In this neglected spot no urn remains,
No relic that a trace of thee retains:
Thee, whose bold song could world's unseen create,
And to the shadowy forms of Fancy gave
Life and perpetual youth, that ne'er shall know the grave.
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But tho' thy urn repose no longer here,
Be mine to muse on thy funereal mould,
And with thy spirit high communion hold:
And 'mid the scenes that tranc'd thy youthful year,
Invoke the local Genius of the cave,
And the sweet sylvan muse that haunts her Virgil's grave.
Be mine to muse on thy funereal mould,
And with thy spirit high communion hold:
And 'mid the scenes that tranc'd thy youthful year,
Invoke the local Genius of the cave,
And the sweet sylvan muse that haunts her Virgil's grave.
Beneath yon rock, with gadding flow'rs o'erhung,
The Pastoral Muse to thee her reed-pipe gave,
And by the gushing fount, in grot and cave,
Taught thee each note that leads her choir along:—
Pan leap'd exultant from meridian sleep,
And Nymphs that haunt the cliff rush'd, giddy, down the steep.
The Pastoral Muse to thee her reed-pipe gave,
And by the gushing fount, in grot and cave,
Taught thee each note that leads her choir along:—
Pan leap'd exultant from meridian sleep,
And Nymphs that haunt the cliff rush'd, giddy, down the steep.
Anon, a deeper sound: it shook the wreath
That, by fair Egle's wily finger bound,
Enchain'd Silenus, stretch'd in sleep profound:
It told how Nature heav'd the strife beneath,
When Night and Chaos, in primeval birth,
Fled from the sun's new beam that rob'd with flow'rs the earth.
That, by fair Egle's wily finger bound,
Enchain'd Silenus, stretch'd in sleep profound:
It told how Nature heav'd the strife beneath,
When Night and Chaos, in primeval birth,
Fled from the sun's new beam that rob'd with flow'rs the earth.
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But when thy lip held dalliance with the reed,
Or, silencing the rude Ascrean strain,
Taught how the golden harvest glads the plain,
Forms all unwonted to the shepherd's weed,
In awful vision pass'd before thy sight,
Beneath th' o'ershadowing veil that dimm'd their wondrous light.
Or, silencing the rude Ascrean strain,
Taught how the golden harvest glads the plain,
Forms all unwonted to the shepherd's weed,
In awful vision pass'd before thy sight,
Beneath th' o'ershadowing veil that dimm'd their wondrous light.
While round thee, flaming with idolatry,
Rose images of gods, who, thron'd above,
Pledg'd nectar from the Hebe cup of Jove;
While thro' the air wing'd Zephyrs wanton'd by,
And a coy Sea-nymph, floating on the main,
Hung o'er the charmed wave to hear a Syren's strain:
Rose images of gods, who, thron'd above,
Pledg'd nectar from the Hebe cup of Jove;
While thro' the air wing'd Zephyrs wanton'd by,
And a coy Sea-nymph, floating on the main,
Hung o'er the charmed wave to hear a Syren's strain:
And every fount, green hill, and cave enshrin'd
A guardian pow'r, and round their votive fane
Fauns, and fleet Dryads, and light Oread train,
Toss'd in wild trance their tresses on the wind;
And Iris, on her sun-built arch aloof,
Drew from Light's sever'd rays her many-colour'd woof:
A guardian pow'r, and round their votive fane
Fauns, and fleet Dryads, and light Oread train,
Toss'd in wild trance their tresses on the wind;
And Iris, on her sun-built arch aloof,
Drew from Light's sever'd rays her many-colour'd woof:
Thou, in yon orbs that wheel in living flame,
In all that wing the air, or range the earth,
Or heave the sea with multitude of birth,
One unseen Godhead hail'dst, in all the same,
One in each change, who made and moves the whole,
One, the unmade, unmov'd, the universal soul.
In all that wing the air, or range the earth,
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One unseen Godhead hail'dst, in all the same,
One in each change, who made and moves the whole,
One, the unmade, unmov'd, the universal soul.
Then through thy vision gleam'd celestial fire,
And from a wing that wav'd in light, a ray
Fell on the darkness that on Nature lay,
And chas'd the Pastoral Muse, and all her choir,
While thy bold breathing from her reed-pipe drew
Notes of a higher strain than Pan or Sylvan knew.
And from a wing that wav'd in light, a ray
Fell on the darkness that on Nature lay,
And chas'd the Pastoral Muse, and all her choir,
While thy bold breathing from her reed-pipe drew
Notes of a higher strain than Pan or Sylvan knew.
The shaggy Satyr to his wood retir'd:
And, hark! a sound as of a Hebrew song,
Seem'd on thy strain its echo to prolong:
Isaiah's breath the shepherd's reed inspir'd,
When the Cumean Maid's prophetic rhyme
Glanc'd on the unborn age, and rent the veil of Time.
And, hark! a sound as of a Hebrew song,
Seem'd on thy strain its echo to prolong:
Isaiah's breath the shepherd's reed inspir'd,
When the Cumean Maid's prophetic rhyme
Glanc'd on the unborn age, and rent the veil of Time.
Then from the sev'n-crown'd hills a voice uprose,
A voice that, preluding the Roman fame,
Bad thee in verse build up “th' eternal name.”
The pipe, that idly play'd with pastoral woes,
Fell from the lip whose breath the war-notes blew,
As Rome in all her pomp burst on thy ravish'd view:
A voice that, preluding the Roman fame,
Bad thee in verse build up “th' eternal name.”
The pipe, that idly play'd with pastoral woes,
Fell from the lip whose breath the war-notes blew,
As Rome in all her pomp burst on thy ravish'd view:
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All that Evander to his guest disclos'd,
When lowing herds along the Forum stray'd,
All that the hero on his shield survey'd,
When on its orb Rome's fame and fate repos'd,
And all that peopled the Elysian plain
When age on age swept by, and hail'd th' Augustan reign.
When lowing herds along the Forum stray'd,
All that the hero on his shield survey'd,
When on its orb Rome's fame and fate repos'd,
And all that peopled the Elysian plain
When age on age swept by, and hail'd th' Augustan reign.
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THE CONVENT OF THE GREAT ST. BERNARD.
Temple of hallow'd hospitality!
Rear'd on the loftiest height where man dares rest
Beneath the northern sky:
The pilgrim's and lost wanderer's sole retreat
When drifting snow-flakes sweep in tempests by,
And on the mountain's reeling crest
The wintry whirlwinds rock thy ice-ribb'd seat.
Rear'd on the loftiest height where man dares rest
Beneath the northern sky:
The pilgrim's and lost wanderer's sole retreat
When drifting snow-flakes sweep in tempests by,
And on the mountain's reeling crest
The wintry whirlwinds rock thy ice-ribb'd seat.
Temple of hallow'd hospitality!
How oft, while yet unvisited,
The pow'r that guards thy sanctuary divine
Amid wild Nature's drear sublimity,
From Albion's cliffs my spirit onward led
To hail thy pilgrim shrine.
And still in thee alone, when first I trod
Helvetia's stranger sod,
Tho' many a sweet and many a savage scene
Before me like enchantment rose
Thy Alpine way between,
Alone, thou hallow'd spot, in thee I sought repose.
How oft, while yet unvisited,
The pow'r that guards thy sanctuary divine
Amid wild Nature's drear sublimity,
From Albion's cliffs my spirit onward led
To hail thy pilgrim shrine.
And still in thee alone, when first I trod
Helvetia's stranger sod,
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Before me like enchantment rose
Thy Alpine way between,
Alone, thou hallow'd spot, in thee I sought repose.
Swift gleam'd along Helvetia's range
Proud cities and wide wastes, and vallies green,
In ceaseless interchange:
Here, lakes of silver sheen,
There, wild woods climbing up the mountain brow
That crown'd the icy tract,
And in dark glens below
Bright flashes of the rock-born cataract,
Whose fall, at distance heard,
Sent up to summer suns a murmuring flow
Sweet as the liquid trill of Eve's enamour'd bird.—
Proud cities and wide wastes, and vallies green,
In ceaseless interchange:
Here, lakes of silver sheen,
There, wild woods climbing up the mountain brow
That crown'd the icy tract,
And in dark glens below
Bright flashes of the rock-born cataract,
Whose fall, at distance heard,
Sent up to summer suns a murmuring flow
Sweet as the liquid trill of Eve's enamour'd bird.—
Broad Leman spread between,
Where the blue Rhone, as from her icy cave
Cleaving the water with a virgin wave,
Flows unpolluted.—Sweet it was to breathe
At noon-tide, on St. Pierre's commanding brow,
Under the oak's broad arms, and view beneath
Still Bienne's pellucid lake, forgetful not
Of him, self-exil'd from the haunts of men,
Who, lost in dreams on that sequester'd spot,
Long summer days consum'd, or wont to float,
All indolent, which way the oarless boat
Veer'd with the wave.—Sublimely wild the views
Where Arve, swift whirling thro' his troubled course,
A flood of torrent force,
Severs the rocks that cast at noon o'er Cluse
Strange gloom, and seem to warn th' alarmed eye
From scenes that, long unknown to stranger sight,
Make all thy vale, romantic Chamouny!
A wonder and delight—
The goatherd, and the shepherd, and their flocks
Pasturing the crags around,
And, bosom'd 'mid the ranges of the rocks,
Cots with their green enclosures, and clear rills
Wandering with pleasant sound:
Groves grac'd with fruit, and fields of golden grain,
That supplicate the sun,
In the brief circle of his summer reign,
To stay the glacier, where, with all his force,
Winter embodying in one mass the snows,
Brood of a thousand years,
Slow, silent, imperceptible on course,
Heaves the ice-lava, and uproots the earth,
Forest, and field, and all their blissful birth,
Inheritance of ages.—Other part
Prone torrents on th' aerial precipice
Chain'd in their fall, and mountains, height on height,
Alp pil'd on Alp, belting the central isle,
The emerald gem set in eternal ice,
Where summer flow'rs 'mid frozen oceans smile:
And eminent o'er all thy range and rise
Mont-Blanc! sun-diadem'd with purple glow,
When all is night below.
Where the blue Rhone, as from her icy cave
Cleaving the water with a virgin wave,
Flows unpolluted.—Sweet it was to breathe
At noon-tide, on St. Pierre's commanding brow,
Under the oak's broad arms, and view beneath
Still Bienne's pellucid lake, forgetful not
Of him, self-exil'd from the haunts of men,
Who, lost in dreams on that sequester'd spot,
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All indolent, which way the oarless boat
Veer'd with the wave.—Sublimely wild the views
Where Arve, swift whirling thro' his troubled course,
A flood of torrent force,
Severs the rocks that cast at noon o'er Cluse
Strange gloom, and seem to warn th' alarmed eye
From scenes that, long unknown to stranger sight,
Make all thy vale, romantic Chamouny!
A wonder and delight—
The goatherd, and the shepherd, and their flocks
Pasturing the crags around,
And, bosom'd 'mid the ranges of the rocks,
Cots with their green enclosures, and clear rills
Wandering with pleasant sound:
Groves grac'd with fruit, and fields of golden grain,
That supplicate the sun,
In the brief circle of his summer reign,
To stay the glacier, where, with all his force,
Winter embodying in one mass the snows,
Brood of a thousand years,
Slow, silent, imperceptible on course,
Heaves the ice-lava, and uproots the earth,
Forest, and field, and all their blissful birth,
Inheritance of ages.—Other part
Prone torrents on th' aerial precipice
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Alp pil'd on Alp, belting the central isle,
The emerald gem set in eternal ice,
Where summer flow'rs 'mid frozen oceans smile:
And eminent o'er all thy range and rise
Mont-Blanc! sun-diadem'd with purple glow,
When all is night below.
Fair was the day, when at midsummer noon,
In verdant Interlachen's walnut bow'rs,
While the broad sun, thro' heav'n's clear azure, roll'd
O'er Thun's blue lake its orb of gold,
Stole unperceiv'd away th' enchanted hours:
Or when, amid the rocks of Lauterbrun,
I listen'd to the lapse and lulling tune
Of the prone rill, that from th' aerial height,
Like the soft sprinkle of an April show'r,
Dropt glittering down in threads of light,
Where Iris in her rainbow dight
Saw floating into upper air
A thousand sisters sporting there:
Or when in veil of mist half seen,
I stood the cliff and rill between,
And watch'd the Zephyr in his play
Brush off with wanton wing the liquid dust away.
In verdant Interlachen's walnut bow'rs,
While the broad sun, thro' heav'n's clear azure, roll'd
O'er Thun's blue lake its orb of gold,
Stole unperceiv'd away th' enchanted hours:
Or when, amid the rocks of Lauterbrun,
I listen'd to the lapse and lulling tune
Of the prone rill, that from th' aerial height,
Like the soft sprinkle of an April show'r,
Dropt glittering down in threads of light,
Where Iris in her rainbow dight
Saw floating into upper air
A thousand sisters sporting there:
Or when in veil of mist half seen,
I stood the cliff and rill between,
And watch'd the Zephyr in his play
Brush off with wanton wing the liquid dust away.
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Nor these—nor that Salvator glen
The grandeur of stern Meyringhen,
Crags, and wild woods, and rush, and roar
Of cataracts down the riven shore:
No—nor thy Elfine lake, pure Chêde!
A mirror for Titania made,
Yet, on whose glass, in shadow shown,
Mont-Blanc oft views his ice-crown'd throne:
Nor all, half-wistful, half-appall'd,
The stranger sees at Grindelwald,
When the prone avalanche descending,
On eye and ear strange horrors blending,
Bursts on the shiver'd rocks: not these,
Nor what Helvetia proudlier sees,
A spot than Mont-Blanc more sublime,
Where glory to eternal time
On a poor peasant's name shall dwell,
Thine, that shall Alps outlast, thy name, heroic Tell!
The grandeur of stern Meyringhen,
Crags, and wild woods, and rush, and roar
Of cataracts down the riven shore:
No—nor thy Elfine lake, pure Chêde!
A mirror for Titania made,
Yet, on whose glass, in shadow shown,
Mont-Blanc oft views his ice-crown'd throne:
Nor all, half-wistful, half-appall'd,
The stranger sees at Grindelwald,
When the prone avalanche descending,
On eye and ear strange horrors blending,
Bursts on the shiver'd rocks: not these,
Nor what Helvetia proudlier sees,
A spot than Mont-Blanc more sublime,
Where glory to eternal time
On a poor peasant's name shall dwell,
Thine, that shall Alps outlast, thy name, heroic Tell!
I went, 'mid Burglen's sacred walls,
Where Freedom Tell's blest birth recalls;
I went, where Aschemberg ascends,
And with the storm his memory blends,
And guards his fane those rocks among
Where the unfetter'd steersman sprung,
And to the waves and whirling blast
The bark that bore the Tyrant cast:
I went, where Kussnacht's slope declines,
And the Avenger's fame enshrines,
Where he, whose skill the apple clave
On his child's head, and dar'd to save,
Strung with the chord of death his bow,
And strain'd his strength to wing the blow,
That when infuriate Ghessler came,
Quench'd in his heart the shaft of flame:
Tho' these long stay'd my step, thy Alpine height
Tow'r'd ever on my sight,
And still my haunted spirit dwelt on thee,
Temple of Hospitality!
Where Freedom Tell's blest birth recalls;
I went, where Aschemberg ascends,
And with the storm his memory blends,
And guards his fane those rocks among
Where the unfetter'd steersman sprung,
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The bark that bore the Tyrant cast:
I went, where Kussnacht's slope declines,
And the Avenger's fame enshrines,
Where he, whose skill the apple clave
On his child's head, and dar'd to save,
Strung with the chord of death his bow,
And strain'd his strength to wing the blow,
That when infuriate Ghessler came,
Quench'd in his heart the shaft of flame:
Tho' these long stay'd my step, thy Alpine height
Tow'r'd ever on my sight,
And still my haunted spirit dwelt on thee,
Temple of Hospitality!
But not thy hallow'd hearth alone,
Nor the sublimity that robes thy crest
Allur'd me to thy rest.
It was the dream of youth, th' empassion'd dream,
The vision at grey dawn, and close of day,
That ceas'd not on my solitary way,
By Avon's mazy stream:
When in blest years of wedded happiness,
Ere my heart bled with wounds till then unknown,
I nurtur'd pleasure at the breast of pain,
With sufferings not my own:
And woo'd the tragic Muse, and feign'd the tale
Of Julian's guilt, nor seem'd alone to feign,
But felt, in simulating deep distress,
The thrilling spark of the electric chain
Connecting woe and pity—Alps uprose
Before me, wheresoe'er the vision led
The victim of remorse: whether, distraught
With guilt, the murderer commun'd with the dead,
With blood in secret shed:
Or where, 'mid glimpses of the moon I caught
His half-evanished form,
When, like the spirit of the midnight storm,
He tow'r'd upon the mount that rock'd and reel'd
While thunders round him peel'd,
And the forkt lightning, as it fir'd the air,
Hiss'd on his sparkling hair.
Or whether by the force of fancy sway'd,
I saw, amid those frozen solitudes,
Where wildly wandering past,
The form of one, in guise a mountain maid,
Who came to breathe her last
Where once in peace her sinless childhood play'd,
And youth, in blushing loveliness array'd,
Like her own Alpine rose,
That on the margin of its icy bed
More sweet, more beauteous, grows,
Tempted the spoiler: and the spoiler came,
Woo'd, won her, and betray'd.
Nor the sublimity that robes thy crest
Allur'd me to thy rest.
It was the dream of youth, th' empassion'd dream,
The vision at grey dawn, and close of day,
That ceas'd not on my solitary way,
By Avon's mazy stream:
When in blest years of wedded happiness,
Ere my heart bled with wounds till then unknown,
I nurtur'd pleasure at the breast of pain,
With sufferings not my own:
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Of Julian's guilt, nor seem'd alone to feign,
But felt, in simulating deep distress,
The thrilling spark of the electric chain
Connecting woe and pity—Alps uprose
Before me, wheresoe'er the vision led
The victim of remorse: whether, distraught
With guilt, the murderer commun'd with the dead,
With blood in secret shed:
Or where, 'mid glimpses of the moon I caught
His half-evanished form,
When, like the spirit of the midnight storm,
He tow'r'd upon the mount that rock'd and reel'd
While thunders round him peel'd,
And the forkt lightning, as it fir'd the air,
Hiss'd on his sparkling hair.
Or whether by the force of fancy sway'd,
I saw, amid those frozen solitudes,
Where wildly wandering past,
The form of one, in guise a mountain maid,
Who came to breathe her last
Where once in peace her sinless childhood play'd,
And youth, in blushing loveliness array'd,
Like her own Alpine rose,
That on the margin of its icy bed
More sweet, more beauteous, grows,
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Woo'd, won her, and betray'd.
Accordant to the drama's varying scene,
Alps, their proud crests, and wilderness of snows,
Before my vision rose:
The hallow'd dome enshrin'd the rocks between,
And every feature of the mountain pass,
To travellers on their transient passage shown,
Or by hoar pilgrim known,
As if my life had there familiar been,
Imprest the seal of truth on fiction's shadowy scene.
Alps, their proud crests, and wilderness of snows,
Before my vision rose:
The hallow'd dome enshrin'd the rocks between,
And every feature of the mountain pass,
To travellers on their transient passage shown,
Or by hoar pilgrim known,
As if my life had there familiar been,
Imprest the seal of truth on fiction's shadowy scene.
I saw the seat of stone, the storm-house, there,
Where, day succeeding day,
Each dawn a brother left th' unpurchas'd fare,
Like heav'n-dropt manna on the desert spread,
For the chance wanderer on his toilsome way,
Famish'd and faint: there the sepulchral shed,
Where they, who 'mid the snows had perished,
Lay in the pureness of the icy air,
Where never earth-worm revel'd on decay,
And death forgot his prey,
While the lip seem'd, half-ope, to breathe a pray'r.
There the twin convent, each, a barrier rock
To stand the tempest's shock:
The frozen garden, and half-liquid lake
At noon of summer sun, sheeted with snowy flake.
Where, day succeeding day,
Each dawn a brother left th' unpurchas'd fare,
Like heav'n-dropt manna on the desert spread,
For the chance wanderer on his toilsome way,
Famish'd and faint: there the sepulchral shed,
Where they, who 'mid the snows had perished,
Lay in the pureness of the icy air,
Where never earth-worm revel'd on decay,
And death forgot his prey,
While the lip seem'd, half-ope, to breathe a pray'r.
There the twin convent, each, a barrier rock
To stand the tempest's shock:
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At noon of summer sun, sheeted with snowy flake.
But, vain my cherish'd wish: long years went by,
Ere on the mountain pass my way had been;
Ere other than the mind's internal eye
Dwelt on the Alpine scene:
Ere yet the avalanche on th' aerial brow,
Gathering destruction on its prone career,
Burst back in distant thunder on the ear:
Ere yet I saw the floods, that roll'd in night
Beneath unfathom'd snow,
Gush thro' the arch of ice, and leap in light
To glad the world below:
Ere wandering o'er the sea of ice, alone,
I sought a spot where mortal ne'er had trod,
And, awe-struck, 'mid the wonders of his might,
Hail'd the creator God.
Ere on the mountain pass my way had been;
Ere other than the mind's internal eye
Dwelt on the Alpine scene:
Ere yet the avalanche on th' aerial brow,
Gathering destruction on its prone career,
Burst back in distant thunder on the ear:
Ere yet I saw the floods, that roll'd in night
Beneath unfathom'd snow,
Gush thro' the arch of ice, and leap in light
To glad the world below:
Ere wandering o'er the sea of ice, alone,
I sought a spot where mortal ne'er had trod,
And, awe-struck, 'mid the wonders of his might,
Hail'd the creator God.
War rag'd the while, and round Helvetia cast
His iron barrier: but when Albion rear'd
On Fontarabia's tow'r, o'er rescu'd Spain,
His Lion banner, and in triumph past
Where fell of yore the flow'r of Charlemain,
The Paladins at Ronceval,
And with the arm that subjugated Gaul
To Peace the altar rear'd: in that blest hour,
When the Alpine boy beside the water-fall,
Whose stream so late with death had purple run,
Sang idly in the sun:
Or round the broad-horn'd leader of his herd,
Wreath'd the wild mountain flow'r:
When the grape glow'd on Autumn's jocund bow'r,
I rang'd Helvetia's realm: and with firm tread,
As 'mid her mountains bred
Prest wistful on, and left behind
Each haunt that shelters human kind,
Town, hamlet, cot, and chalet roof
Perch'd on the mount's green slope aloof,
Woods, where the oak and chestnut blend,
Or beechen belts the storm defend,
Wastes where the larch begins to fail,
Nor birch bends, quivering, in the gale;
Or where the o'erwearied eye pursu'd
Th' unfeatur'd face of Solitude:
Where flow'r ne'er gems the spring with bloom,
Where summer suns no fruit illume,
Nor sere leaf gilds the autumnal tree;
All—winter:—all—sterility.
Yet 'mid the windings of the rocky steep,
Where icy tempests sweep,
Fresh vigour grew from fresh delight,
As each known scene, that oft had fancy fed,
Successive rose on sight.
There, was the sheltering storm-house, there, the shed
Where sleep embalm'd the dead,
There, the twin convents, each a barrier rock
To stand the tempest shock;
The garden mockery, and the glassy lake,
Where, as when burst the snow-mass on its prey,
Half-tomb'd beneath the frozen flake,
The Convent Dog, long dead, upgazing lay,
And seem'd in act to spring, and toss the snows away.
His iron barrier: but when Albion rear'd
On Fontarabia's tow'r, o'er rescu'd Spain,
His Lion banner, and in triumph past
Where fell of yore the flow'r of Charlemain,
The Paladins at Ronceval,
And with the arm that subjugated Gaul
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When the Alpine boy beside the water-fall,
Whose stream so late with death had purple run,
Sang idly in the sun:
Or round the broad-horn'd leader of his herd,
Wreath'd the wild mountain flow'r:
When the grape glow'd on Autumn's jocund bow'r,
I rang'd Helvetia's realm: and with firm tread,
As 'mid her mountains bred
Prest wistful on, and left behind
Each haunt that shelters human kind,
Town, hamlet, cot, and chalet roof
Perch'd on the mount's green slope aloof,
Woods, where the oak and chestnut blend,
Or beechen belts the storm defend,
Wastes where the larch begins to fail,
Nor birch bends, quivering, in the gale;
Or where the o'erwearied eye pursu'd
Th' unfeatur'd face of Solitude:
Where flow'r ne'er gems the spring with bloom,
Where summer suns no fruit illume,
Nor sere leaf gilds the autumnal tree;
All—winter:—all—sterility.
Yet 'mid the windings of the rocky steep,
Where icy tempests sweep,
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As each known scene, that oft had fancy fed,
Successive rose on sight.
There, was the sheltering storm-house, there, the shed
Where sleep embalm'd the dead,
There, the twin convents, each a barrier rock
To stand the tempest shock;
The garden mockery, and the glassy lake,
Where, as when burst the snow-mass on its prey,
Half-tomb'd beneath the frozen flake,
The Convent Dog, long dead, upgazing lay,
And seem'd in act to spring, and toss the snows away.
EPITAPH ON A DOG,
OF THE CONVENT OF THE GREAT ST. BERNARD, HALF BURIED IN THE FROZEN LAKE, BY THE SUDDEN FALL OF AN AVALANCHE.
Friend of Mankind! thy service done,
Rise thou no more from troubled rest!
Nor, watchful of the setting sun,
Where Pilgrims wander widely quest,
As if their sufferings were thy own,
And thou wert born for man alone.
Rise thou no more from troubled rest!
207
Where Pilgrims wander widely quest,
As if their sufferings were thy own,
And thou wert born for man alone.
Thou, never more, when raves the wind,
Shalt o'er the Alps thy master guide:
No more, when drifting snow flakes blind,
Shalt turn his step from death aside,
Hang on his hand, and woo him back
While instinct yet retains the track.
Shalt o'er the Alps thy master guide:
No more, when drifting snow flakes blind,
Shalt turn his step from death aside,
Hang on his hand, and woo him back
While instinct yet retains the track.
Thou ne'er again shalt gladly bear,
The panier yok'd thy neck around,
Press on the famish'd lip its fare,
And bring the band to close the wound:
Or with thy healing tongue supply
The balm that lessens agony.
The panier yok'd thy neck around,
Press on the famish'd lip its fare,
And bring the band to close the wound:
Or with thy healing tongue supply
The balm that lessens agony.
Thou ne'er again, beneath the snows,
Shalt search the cleft, and treacherous cave,
And conscious of sleep's fell repose
Arouse the slumberer from the grave,
And o'er him breathe thy vital breath,
And by thy warmth reclaim from death.
Shalt search the cleft, and treacherous cave,
And conscious of sleep's fell repose
Arouse the slumberer from the grave,
And o'er him breathe thy vital breath,
And by thy warmth reclaim from death.
208
Ah! thou no more shalt homeward bring,
The infant through the frozen air,
And, as with hand half human, ring
The convent bell, nor quit thy care,
Till on the hearth, before the blaze,
Thou on his opening eyelid gaze.
The infant through the frozen air,
And, as with hand half human, ring
The convent bell, nor quit thy care,
Till on the hearth, before the blaze,
Thou on his opening eyelid gaze.
Long on thy loss that hearth shall dwell,
Friend of mankind! farewell! farewell!
Friend of mankind! farewell! farewell!
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.
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.
209
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.
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.
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.
210
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.
211
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.
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.
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
212
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.
Years since have past: but ne'er has memory ceas'd
Of thee, saint-founded residence! to weave
213
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.
214
MONT-BLANC.
Once more, thou Vision! rob'd in light,
Illume thy mountain throne,
Float in soft flame before my sight,
And wreathe thy triple zone.—
Again diffuse th' ethereal glow
That rested on th' eternal snow,
The band of fire, the roseate hue
That round each rival zone unearthly splendour drew.
Illume thy mountain throne,
Float in soft flame before my sight,
And wreathe thy triple zone.—
Again diffuse th' ethereal glow
That rested on th' eternal snow,
The band of fire, the roseate hue
That round each rival zone unearthly splendour drew.
Give me the wings that bear the wind
To speed at will my flight,
And leaving earth's low realms behind
To gain yon Alpine height:
There to my gaze, on either side,
Let oceans pour their changeful tide,
And populous regions fill the scene,
And, tow'ring in their strength, proud cities gleam between:
To speed at will my flight,
And leaving earth's low realms behind
To gain yon Alpine height:
215
Let oceans pour their changeful tide,
And populous regions fill the scene,
And, tow'ring in their strength, proud cities gleam between:
Then, in that dark, dark depth of sky,
At noon-day, one by one,
Flame the bright planets wheeling by,
And world's beyond the sun:
Yet, nor the regions spreading wide,
Far seas, or cities' tow'ring pride,
Or Night's fair host at noon of day,
Would from my wondering view thy vision charm away.
At noon-day, one by one,
Flame the bright planets wheeling by,
And world's beyond the sun:
Yet, nor the regions spreading wide,
Far seas, or cities' tow'ring pride,
Or Night's fair host at noon of day,
Would from my wondering view thy vision charm away.
Art thou a gleam of worlds more fair
Than meet the mortal eye,
Where forms that float in purer air
Illume a brighter sky?
Or say'st thou to the sons of earth,
“When Eden bow'rs first hail'd thy birth,
“Such the bright zone that fenc'd thee round,
“Ere Sin unbarr'd the gate, and Death had entrance found?”
Than meet the mortal eye,
Where forms that float in purer air
Illume a brighter sky?
Or say'st thou to the sons of earth,
“When Eden bow'rs first hail'd thy birth,
“Such the bright zone that fenc'd thee round,
“Ere Sin unbarr'd the gate, and Death had entrance found?”
216
Not such array the Nymphs of Morn,
Who hand in hand advance,
Guide thro' heav'n's arch the sun new born,
And weave in air their dance:
Nor when at eve one lonely star
Leads his prone steeds, and westering car,
Such the bright robes around him roll'd,
Tho' each empurpled cloud float o'er a wave of gold.
Who hand in hand advance,
Guide thro' heav'n's arch the sun new born,
And weave in air their dance:
Nor when at eve one lonely star
Leads his prone steeds, and westering car,
Such the bright robes around him roll'd,
Tho' each empurpled cloud float o'er a wave of gold.
Thou beauteous, strange, unquivering light!
I saw thee travelling slow,
And, ere the sun had sunk in night,
Pass many a mountain brow:
As if, disdainful there to stay,
Thou went'st, commission'd, on thy way,
To diadem a loftier crest,
And gathering there thy strength, awhile in glory rest.
I saw thee travelling slow,
And, ere the sun had sunk in night,
Pass many a mountain brow:
As if, disdainful there to stay,
Thou went'st, commission'd, on thy way,
To diadem a loftier crest,
And gathering there thy strength, awhile in glory rest.
Amid yon mountains far descried,
With ice eternal crown'd,
'Mid glaciers spreading far and wide
A frozen ocean round,
'Mid floods that from unfathom'd caves
Sent up the voice of viewless waves,
Where at the thunder's awful peal
Th' o'erbeetling avalanche bursts, and rocks beneath it reel:
With ice eternal crown'd,
'Mid glaciers spreading far and wide
A frozen ocean round,
'Mid floods that from unfathom'd caves
Sent up the voice of viewless waves,
217
Th' o'erbeetling avalanche bursts, and rocks beneath it reel:
'Mid these, that spake Jehovah's might,
Where Nature felt her God,
My spirit wing'd a loftier flight,
My foot devoutlier trod,
Than where ambitious Art display'd
Her pomp, her pillar'd colonnade,
And Genius, 'mid adoring Rome,
Earth's stateliest temple crown'd, and pois'd in air the dome.
Where Nature felt her God,
My spirit wing'd a loftier flight,
My foot devoutlier trod,
Than where ambitious Art display'd
Her pomp, her pillar'd colonnade,
And Genius, 'mid adoring Rome,
Earth's stateliest temple crown'd, and pois'd in air the dome.
218
MERGELLINE.
ON THE BIRTH OF CAPTAIN CLIFFORD'S DAUGHTER. Naples—March 5, 1817.
Fair Infant! born in happiest hour,
In Nature's loveliest clime,
Where winter culls the summer flow'r,
And bud of vernal prime,
And halcyons on the sunny wave
Their floating feathers smoothly lave;
In Nature's loveliest clime,
Where winter culls the summer flow'r,
And bud of vernal prime,
And halcyons on the sunny wave
Their floating feathers smoothly lave;
Where every breath we joy to breathe
Inhales the orange bloom,
And every weed the foot beneath
Betrays the press'd perfume,
And heav'n, in richest livery drest,
O'er ocean spreads her rainbow vest:
Inhales the orange bloom,
And every weed the foot beneath
Betrays the press'd perfume,
And heav'n, in richest livery drest,
O'er ocean spreads her rainbow vest:
219
Fair Child! o'er thee the Muse shall bend,
And breathe her warmest vow,
A separate charm each Syren lend,
To grace thy gifted brow,
And name thee, as they hail the scene,
Their own, their fav'rite Mergelline.
And breathe her warmest vow,
A separate charm each Syren lend,
To grace thy gifted brow,
And name thee, as they hail the scene,
Their own, their fav'rite Mergelline.
220
TO THE CARDINAL MINISTER CONSALVI.
Rome—May 22, 1817.
Thou, whose unyielding hand the fetter broke,
Thou, at whose foot the riven chain yet rings,
That link'd the might and majesty of kings
To Guilt's proud brow and Murder's hireling yoke:
Rome round thy front her civic garland binds.
Yet, tho' no longer pointing to the slain,
The grim assassin barters blood for gain,
Basks in the light of day, and taints the winds
With scent of death: bold Statesman! firm of soul,
Advance!—not yet thy glorious course is run—
Free yon Tribunal to the searching sun—
Advance!—there, Justice at th' appointed goal
Shall fix thy guardian image on her shrine,
And Mercy o'er thee wave a wreath divine.
The suppression of the privileged asylums of the embassadors, the nurseries and shelters of assassination.
221
ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF FRANCIS HORNER, ESQ. AT PISA.
Written at Rome, February 17, 1817.
No, not thy friends alone, whose hearts will bleed,
When the slow sail, long look'd for, now on way,
Shall to the realm that waits thy coming, say,
“Thou never shalt return”—so heav'n decreed:—
Nor those whose blessing bad their first-born, “Hail:”
Nor yet the brother, who watch'd o'er thy bed,
And tears in unavailing 'tendance shed:
Not these alone;—'tis Britain I bewail.
Patriot! thy arm was stretch'd her realm to save:
Death rush'd between—his hand that smote thee low,
On Britain's reeling column struck the blow,
And bow'd its shatter'd glory o'er thy grave.
222
A FANCY SKETCH.
I knew a gentle maid: I ne'er shall viewHer like again: and yet the vulgar eye
Might pass the charms I trac'd, regardless, by:
For pale her cheek, unmark'd with roseate hue,
Nor beam'd from her mild eye a dazzling glance,
Nor flash'd her nameless graces on the sight:
Yet Beauty never woke such pure delight.
Fine was her form, as Dian's in the dance:
Her voice was music, in her silence dwelt
Expression, every look instinct with thought:
Though oft her mind, by youth to rapture wrought,
Struck forth wild wit, and fancies ever new,
The lightest touch of woe her soul would melt:
And on her lips, when gleam'd a lingering smile,
Pity's warm tear gush'd down her cheek the while:
Thy like, thou gentle maid! I ne'er shall view.
223
ON CROSSING THE ANGLESEA STRAIT TO BANGOR, AT MIDNIGHT.
'Twas midnight: from the Druid's gloomy cave,Where I had wander'd, tranc'd in thought, alone
'Mid Cromlechs, and the Carnedd's funeral stone,
Pensive and slow, I sought the Menai's wave:
Lull'd by the scene, a soothing stillness laid
My soul to rest. O'er Snowdon's cloudless brow
The moon, that full-orb'd rose, with peaceful glow,
Beam'd on the rocks; with many a star array'd
Glitter'd the broad blue sky; from shore to shore,
O'er the smooth current stream'd a silver light,
Save where along the flood the lonely height
Of rocky Penmanmaur deep darkness shed:
And all was silence, save the ceaseless roar
Of Conway bursting on the ocean's bed.
224
TO JOANNA BAILLIE.
Sister of Shakspeare! so not wrongly nam'd:For his divinest spirit on thy birth
Look'd kindly down, revisitant on earth,
And with like fire thy kindred soul enflam'd.
Thou, too, Enchantress! with a sceptred hand
Beckon'st the Passions forth, and at thy call
Love, Hate, Ambition, rob'd in tragic pall,
Rise, and before thy throne, subservient, stand,
To do thy bidding.—Many a future age,
And bards unborn, shall, as thy strains inspire,
Weep o'er thy scenes, and catch from thee their fire.
Me, other thoughts, and milder scenes engage:
And as I share thy converse, gay and free,
And hear thy unambitious language mild,
I doubt how artless Nature's simple child
Can strike the chords that breathe sublimity,
And how the dove's smooth plumes, and level flight,
Can soar where eagle's sweep, and bathe their wings in light.
225
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
“The most original and beautiful, perhaps, of all Schiller's
poems, unequalled by any thing of Goëthe's, is called ‘The
Song of the Bell,’—a varying, irregular, lyric strain. The casting
of a bell, is, in Germany, an event of solemnity and rejoicing. In
the neighbourbood of the Hartz, and the other mine districts, you
read formal announcements in the newspapers from bell-founders,
that at a given time and spot a casting is to take place, to which
they invite all their friends. An entertainment out of doors is
prepared, and held with much festivity. Schiller, in a few short
stanzas, forming a sort of chorus, describes the whole process of
melting, the casting, and the cooling of the Bell, with a technical
truth and a felicity of expression, in which the sound of the sharp
sonorous rhymes, and expressive epithets, constantly forms an
echo to the sense. Between these technical processes he breaks
forth into the most beautiful episodiac pictures of the various
scenes of life with which the sounds of the Bell are connected.
”
Vivos voso.—Mortuos plango.—Fulgura frangc.
Fast immur'd within the earth,
Fixt by fire the clay mould stands,
This day the Bell expects its birth:
Courage, comrades! ply your hands!
Comrades! ceaseless from your brow,
Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow:
If by his work the master known,
Yet—heav'n must send the blessing down.
Fixt by fire the clay mould stands,
This day the Bell expects its birth:
Courage, comrades! ply your hands!
226
Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow:
If by his work the master known,
Yet—heav'n must send the blessing down.
The work we earnestly prepare,—
May well an earnest word demand:
When cheering words attend our care,
Gay the labour, brisk the hand.
Then let us weigh with deep reflection,
What by mere force must be achiev'd;
And rightly scorn his misdirection,
Whose foresight ne'er his work conceiv'd.
'Tis this that human nature graces,
This, gifted reason's destin'd aim,
That first the spirit inly traces,
What the skill'd hand shall after frame.
May well an earnest word demand:
When cheering words attend our care,
Gay the labour, brisk the hand.
Then let us weigh with deep reflection,
What by mere force must be achiev'd;
And rightly scorn his misdirection,
Whose foresight ne'er his work conceiv'd.
'Tis this that human nature graces,
This, gifted reason's destin'd aim,
That first the spirit inly traces,
What the skill'd hand shall after frame.
Billets of the fir-wood take,
Every billet dry and sound;
That flame on gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round.
Quickly cast the copper in,
Quickly cast due weight of tin,
That the Bell's tenacious food
Rightly flow in order'd mood.
Every billet dry and sound;
That flame on gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round.
Quickly cast the copper in,
Quickly cast due weight of tin,
That the Bell's tenacious food
Rightly flow in order'd mood.
227
What now within the earth's deep womb
Our hands by help of fire prepare,
Shall on yon turret mark our doom
And loudly to the world declare!
There its aërial station keeping,
Touch many an ear to latest time;
Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping,
And tune to holy choirs its chime.
All that to earth-born sons below
The changeful turns of fortune bring,
The Bell from its metallic brow
In warning sounds shall widely ring.
Our hands by help of fire prepare,
Shall on yon turret mark our doom
And loudly to the world declare!
There its aërial station keeping,
Touch many an ear to latest time;
Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping,
And tune to holy choirs its chime.
All that to earth-born sons below
The changeful turns of fortune bring,
The Bell from its metallic brow
In warning sounds shall widely ring.
Lo! I see white bubbles spring:—
Well!—the molten masses flow.
Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling,
Quick'ning the fusion deep below.
Yet from scoria clear and free
Must the liquid mixture be,
That from the metal, clean and clear,
Its sound swell tuneful on the ear.
Well!—the molten masses flow.
Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling,
Quick'ning the fusion deep below.
Yet from scoria clear and free
Must the liquid mixture be,
That from the metal, clean and clear,
Its sound swell tuneful on the ear.
Hark! 'tis the birth-day's festive ringing!
It welcomes the beloved child,
Who now life's earliest way beginning,
In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild.
As yet in time's dark lap repose,
Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes,
While tenderest cares of mothers born
Watch o'er her infant's golden morn.
The years like winged arrows fly:
The stripling from the female hand
Bursts into life all wild to roam;
And wandering far o'er sea and land,
Returns a stranger home.
There, in her bloom divinely fair,
An image beaming from the sky,
With blushing cheek and modest air
A virgin charms his eye.
A nameless longing melts his heart,
Far from his comrades' revels rude,
While tears involuntary start,
He strays in pathless solitude,—
Then, blushing, seeks alone her trace;
And if a smile his suit approve,
He seeks the prime of all the place,
The fairest flower to deck his love.—
Enchanting hope! thou sweet desire!
Thou earliest love! thou golden time!
Heav'n opens to thy glance of fire,
The heart o'erflows with bliss sublime.
Oh that it might eternal prove
The vernal bloom of youthful love!
It welcomes the beloved child,
Who now life's earliest way beginning,
In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild.
228
Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes,
While tenderest cares of mothers born
Watch o'er her infant's golden morn.
The years like winged arrows fly:
The stripling from the female hand
Bursts into life all wild to roam;
And wandering far o'er sea and land,
Returns a stranger home.
There, in her bloom divinely fair,
An image beaming from the sky,
With blushing cheek and modest air
A virgin charms his eye.
A nameless longing melts his heart,
Far from his comrades' revels rude,
While tears involuntary start,
He strays in pathless solitude,—
Then, blushing, seeks alone her trace;
And if a smile his suit approve,
He seeks the prime of all the place,
The fairest flower to deck his love.—
Enchanting hope! thou sweet desire!
Thou earliest love! thou golden time!
Heav'n opens to thy glance of fire,
The heart o'erflows with bliss sublime.
229
The vernal bloom of youthful love!
See! the pipes are browning over!
This little rod I inly dip;
If coated there with glassy cover,
Let not the time of fusion slip.
Now, companions!—briskly move,
Now, the happy mixture prove.
If each alike, in one design,
The brittle and the ductile join.
This little rod I inly dip;
If coated there with glassy cover,
Let not the time of fusion slip.
Now, companions!—briskly move,
Now, the happy mixture prove.
If each alike, in one design,
The brittle and the ductile join.
For where strength with softness joins,
Where force with tenderness combines,
Firm the union, sweet the song.
Thus, ere thou wed no more to part,
Prove first if heart unite with heart:
The dream is brief, repentance long.
Sweet, 'mid the tresses of the bride,
Blooms the virgin coronal,
When merry bells ring far and wide
Kind welcome to the festival.
Ah, that life's fairest festive day
Fades with the blossom of our May!
That when the veil and cestus fall,
The sweet illusions vanish, all!—
Where force with tenderness combines,
Firm the union, sweet the song.
Thus, ere thou wed no more to part,
Prove first if heart unite with heart:
The dream is brief, repentance long.
Sweet, 'mid the tresses of the bride,
Blooms the virgin coronal,
When merry bells ring far and wide
Kind welcome to the festival.
Ah, that life's fairest festive day
Fades with the blossom of our May!
That when the veil and cestus fall,
The sweet illusions vanish, all!—
230
The passion,—it flies,
The love must endure:
The blossom,—it dies,
The fruit must mature.
Forth the husband must wend
To the combat of life;
Plunge in turmoil and strife:
Must plant, and must plan;
Gain, get as he can:
Hazard all, all importune
To woo and win fortune.
Then streams, like a spring-flood, his wealth without measure,
And his granaries groan with the weight of their treasure;
And his farm-yards increase, and his mansion expands.
The love must endure:
The blossom,—it dies,
The fruit must mature.
Forth the husband must wend
To the combat of life;
Plunge in turmoil and strife:
Must plant, and must plan;
Gain, get as he can:
Hazard all, all importune
To woo and win fortune.
Then streams, like a spring-flood, his wealth without measure,
And his granaries groan with the weight of their treasure;
And his farm-yards increase, and his mansion expands.
Now the housewife within
Her course must begin;
Nurse, mother, and wife
Share the troubles of life;
Discreetly severe
Rule all in her sphere;
Give each maiden employ,
Watch each troublesome boy.
With orderly care,
Keep all in repair;
And store without ceasing
Her riches increasing:
Fill her sweet-scented coffers; and, restlessly twirling,
Set each spindle a spinning, each wheel ever whirling!
And in smooth polish'd wardrobes range row above row,
Her woollen all radiant, her linen all snow;
And trim them, and pranck them, and fashion them ever,
And rest—never.—
Her course must begin;
Nurse, mother, and wife
Share the troubles of life;
Discreetly severe
Rule all in her sphere;
Give each maiden employ,
Watch each troublesome boy.
231
Keep all in repair;
And store without ceasing
Her riches increasing:
Fill her sweet-scented coffers; and, restlessly twirling,
Set each spindle a spinning, each wheel ever whirling!
And in smooth polish'd wardrobes range row above row,
Her woollen all radiant, her linen all snow;
And trim them, and pranck them, and fashion them ever,
And rest—never.—
The father now, with deep delight,
From his proud seat's wide seeing roof,
Sums up the wealth that feasts his sight;
The branching columns that support
The loaded barns rang'd round the court;
Granaries, that with corn o'erflow,
And harvests billowing to and fro:
And deems, fond man! that, propt on gain,
Like pillars that the globe sustain,
His house in glory shall withstand
Misfortune's rough and ruthless hand.
But—none—no mortal can detain
Fate in adamantine chain.
Mischance with hurried foot advances.
From his proud seat's wide seeing roof,
Sums up the wealth that feasts his sight;
The branching columns that support
The loaded barns rang'd round the court;
Granaries, that with corn o'erflow,
And harvests billowing to and fro:
And deems, fond man! that, propt on gain,
Like pillars that the globe sustain,
His house in glory shall withstand
Misfortune's rough and ruthless hand.
232
Fate in adamantine chain.
Mischance with hurried foot advances.
'Tis time.—Now, now begin the fusion:
The crevice now yields promise fair.
Yet, pause—nor hasten the conclusion,
Till heaven has heard our pious pray'r.
Haste,—now push the stopper out,
Saints! now watch the house about.
Smoking in the handle's bow,
Shoot the waves that darkly glow.
The crevice now yields promise fair.
Yet, pause—nor hasten the conclusion,
Till heaven has heard our pious pray'r.
Haste,—now push the stopper out,
Saints! now watch the house about.
Smoking in the handle's bow,
Shoot the waves that darkly glow.
Beneficent the fire, whose flame
The pow'r of man can watch and tame;
When all, whate'er he forms and makes,
From heav'n's kind gift perfection takes.
But terrible this gift of heav'n,
When bursting forth, its fetters riv'n,
This free-born child of nature free
Issues in random liberty.
Woe—woe—when loose, without controul,
Gathering fresh force to feed their ire,
On thro' the populous cities roll
Sheeted flames of living fire!
The pow'r of man can watch and tame;
When all, whate'er he forms and makes,
From heav'n's kind gift perfection takes.
But terrible this gift of heav'n,
When bursting forth, its fetters riv'n,
This free-born child of nature free
Issues in random liberty.
Woe—woe—when loose, without controul,
Gathering fresh force to feed their ire,
On thro' the populous cities roll
Sheeted flames of living fire!
233
The elements, unpitying, hate
Whate'er the hands of man create.
From the clouds
Blessings flow,
Rain streams below;
From the clouds,
Here and there,
Lightnings glare.
Heard you yon turret moan from high?
Storm is nigh,
Red as blood
The heav'n's suffusion;
'Tis not daylight's glowing flood.
What confusion!
Clouds of smoke
The dark streets choke;
Flaring mounts up higher and higher,
Through lengthen'd streets, the pillar'd fire,
Borne before the wild wind's ire.
The flame as from a furnace streams
Glows the ether, crack the beams;
Mothers wandering, children moaning,
Cattle under ruins groaning,
Windows clattering, pillars crushing,
All for safety wildly rushing,
This way, that way, twisting, turning,
Midnight like the noon-day burning,
Hand to hand, a lengthen'd chain,
How they strain!
Fly the buckets; flood and fountain
Burst in liquid arches mounting;
The howling tempest on its course
Gives to the flames resistless force:
The fire-flood through each granary streams,
And blazes o'er the rafter'd beams;
And, as if the self-same hour
Would earth and all its growth devour,
To heav'n it rears its tow'ring flight,
Giant high!
Hopelessly
Beneath its godlike strength man bows the head:
And, as his treasures sink and sunder,
Beholds the ruins round him spread
In idle wonder—
Consum'd by flame,
One waste the place;
Nought but the storm there leaves a trace.
In the wide casement's vacancy
Dire horrors brood;
And clouds that sweep aloft the sky
Look on its solitude.
One look—one last—
On that earth-womb:
His treasure's tomb:
One lingering look—'tis o'er—tis past—
He grasps his staff—the world has room—
The raging flame not all has reft
One heartfelt solace yet is left;
He numbers those belov'd the most,—
Of those, so lov'd, not one is lost.
Whate'er the hands of man create.
From the clouds
Blessings flow,
Rain streams below;
From the clouds,
Here and there,
Lightnings glare.
Heard you yon turret moan from high?
Storm is nigh,
Red as blood
The heav'n's suffusion;
'Tis not daylight's glowing flood.
What confusion!
Clouds of smoke
The dark streets choke;
Flaring mounts up higher and higher,
Through lengthen'd streets, the pillar'd fire,
Borne before the wild wind's ire.
The flame as from a furnace streams
Glows the ether, crack the beams;
Mothers wandering, children moaning,
Cattle under ruins groaning,
Windows clattering, pillars crushing,
All for safety wildly rushing,
234
Midnight like the noon-day burning,
Hand to hand, a lengthen'd chain,
How they strain!
Fly the buckets; flood and fountain
Burst in liquid arches mounting;
The howling tempest on its course
Gives to the flames resistless force:
The fire-flood through each granary streams,
And blazes o'er the rafter'd beams;
And, as if the self-same hour
Would earth and all its growth devour,
To heav'n it rears its tow'ring flight,
Giant high!
Hopelessly
Beneath its godlike strength man bows the head:
And, as his treasures sink and sunder,
Beholds the ruins round him spread
In idle wonder—
Consum'd by flame,
One waste the place;
Nought but the storm there leaves a trace.
In the wide casement's vacancy
Dire horrors brood;
And clouds that sweep aloft the sky
Look on its solitude.
235
On that earth-womb:
His treasure's tomb:
One lingering look—'tis o'er—tis past—
He grasps his staff—the world has room—
The raging flame not all has reft
One heartfelt solace yet is left;
He numbers those belov'd the most,—
Of those, so lov'd, not one is lost.
All prosp'rous seems beneath the earth,
Full and kindly fill'd the mould:
But will the day that views its birth,
What crowns our toil and art behold?
If the fusion haply fail!—
If at last the mould prove frail!—
Ah! while Hope's bright sunbeams glow,
Fate has already wrought the woe!
Full and kindly fill'd the mould:
But will the day that views its birth,
What crowns our toil and art behold?
If the fusion haply fail!—
If at last the mould prove frail!—
Ah! while Hope's bright sunbeams glow,
Fate has already wrought the woe!
To the dark lap of holy earth
We trust the unaccomplish'd deed:
The sower fearless trusts his seed,
In hope to gather in the birth
At the blest time by heav'n decreed.
And far more precious seed concealing,
We mournful hide in earth's dark womb,
In hope that God, the grave unsealing,
Revive it, grac'd with brighter bloom.
From the dome,
Sad and slow,
Tolls the Bell,
The song of woe;—
Its sad, its solemn strokes attend
A wanderer to his journey's end.
We trust the unaccomplish'd deed:
The sower fearless trusts his seed,
In hope to gather in the birth
At the blest time by heav'n decreed.
And far more precious seed concealing,
We mournful hide in earth's dark womb,
236
Revive it, grac'd with brighter bloom.
From the dome,
Sad and slow,
Tolls the Bell,
The song of woe;—
Its sad, its solemn strokes attend
A wanderer to his journey's end.
Ah! 'tis the dear one—'tis the wife!
'Tis the belov'd, the loving mother!
Who by the prince of darkness borne,
From her fond husband's arms is torn,—
Torn from each tender child away
She bore him in her bloom of day,—
Those who had grown upon her breast,
By love—a mother's love—carest.
Ah! the household's gentle band
Is loos'd for ever—evermore;
She dwells within the shadowy land
Whose fondness hung that household o'er.
Now ceas'd her zealous occupation,
None her kindness more shall prove;
O'er that wide waste, that orphan station,
A stranger rules devoid of love.
While the Bell is cooling, rest,
Rest, from toil and trouble free;
Each, as fits his fancy best,
Sport like bird at liberty.
If but peep a star in air,
The man devoid of troublous care
At vesper chime from labour ceases:
No hour the master's care releases.
'Tis the belov'd, the loving mother!
Who by the prince of darkness borne,
From her fond husband's arms is torn,—
Torn from each tender child away
She bore him in her bloom of day,—
Those who had grown upon her breast,
By love—a mother's love—carest.
Ah! the household's gentle band
Is loos'd for ever—evermore;
She dwells within the shadowy land
Whose fondness hung that household o'er.
Now ceas'd her zealous occupation,
None her kindness more shall prove;
O'er that wide waste, that orphan station,
A stranger rules devoid of love.
237
Rest, from toil and trouble free;
Each, as fits his fancy best,
Sport like bird at liberty.
If but peep a star in air,
The man devoid of troublous care
At vesper chime from labour ceases:
No hour the master's care releases.
Quickly with unwearied paces
The wanderer in wild woods afar
Seeks his household roof's embraces;
Bleating, homeward draw the sheep:
Herds and cows,
Sleek their hides, and broad their brows,
Come back lowing,
Each his wonted manger knowing.
Charg'd with grain
In rocks the wain,
Harvest laden:
With gay leaves,
On the sheaves,
Garlands lie;
While to the dance the youthful mowers
Briskly fly.
Street and market hush their speaking;
The householders, when day decays,
Gather round their blissful blaze;
And the town-gate closes creaking.
Earth with clouds is darken'd over;
Yet underneath his roof's safe cover,
The peaceful burgher dreads not night,
Which wakes the wicked with affright,
While Law's keen eye ne'er rests its sight.
The wanderer in wild woods afar
Seeks his household roof's embraces;
Bleating, homeward draw the sheep:
Herds and cows,
Sleek their hides, and broad their brows,
Come back lowing,
Each his wonted manger knowing.
Charg'd with grain
In rocks the wain,
Harvest laden:
With gay leaves,
On the sheaves,
Garlands lie;
While to the dance the youthful mowers
Briskly fly.
Street and market hush their speaking;
238
Gather round their blissful blaze;
And the town-gate closes creaking.
Earth with clouds is darken'd over;
Yet underneath his roof's safe cover,
The peaceful burgher dreads not night,
Which wakes the wicked with affright,
While Law's keen eye ne'er rests its sight.
Holy Order! rich in blessing;
Heavenly daughter! whose caressing
To social bonds free man endears:
Thou whose base the city rears;
Thou, who from the wild and wood
Call'd'st the unsocial savage brood,
To roofs that bind the household tie,
And sooth the soul with courtesy!
Hail, Thou that weav'st the dearest band,
The union of a Father-land!
Heavenly daughter! whose caressing
To social bonds free man endears:
Thou whose base the city rears;
Thou, who from the wild and wood
Call'd'st the unsocial savage brood,
To roofs that bind the household tie,
And sooth the soul with courtesy!
Hail, Thou that weav'st the dearest band,
The union of a Father-land!
A thousand busy hands in motion
Each to each its aid imparts,
And in brotherly devotion
Adds strength and grace to all the arts.
Man and master in their station,
In Freedom's holy safeguard rest;
And in joyful occupation
Laugh to scorn the scorner's jest.
Work!—'tis the burgher's exaltation,—
A blessing rests on labour's head:
Honour the king who rules the nation,
Honour the hand that earns its bread.
Each to each its aid imparts,
And in brotherly devotion
Adds strength and grace to all the arts.
Man and master in their station,
In Freedom's holy safeguard rest;
239
Laugh to scorn the scorner's jest.
Work!—'tis the burgher's exaltation,—
A blessing rests on labour's head:
Honour the king who rules the nation,
Honour the hand that earns its bread.
Holy Peace!
Concord sweet!
Remain, remain:
O'er this region kindly reign.
Never may that day arise
When war's rough plund'rers shall assail,
And violate this peaceful vale!
Never may those lovely skies,
Which roseate eve's soft colours faint
Lovelily paint,
View on the blissful village roof
The battle beacon flame aloof!
Concord sweet!
Remain, remain:
O'er this region kindly reign.
Never may that day arise
When war's rough plund'rers shall assail,
And violate this peaceful vale!
Never may those lovely skies,
Which roseate eve's soft colours faint
Lovelily paint,
View on the blissful village roof
The battle beacon flame aloof!
Break me the mould: its due employment
Now done, no more its aid we need.
Let heart and eye in full enjoyment,
On the well-form'd image feed.
Swing, the heavy hammers swing,
Till the cover duly spring.
When the earth the bell releases,
The mould may split in thousand pieces.
Now done, no more its aid we need.
Let heart and eye in full enjoyment,
On the well-form'd image feed.
Swing, the heavy hammers swing,
Till the cover duly spring.
240
The mould may split in thousand pieces.
The master breaks the mould in pieces,
And timely frees the precious charge;
But woe—if, as the flame increases,
The glowing metal stream at large.
Blind-raging with the roar of thunder,
Forth from its riv'n cell it rushes;
And, as from hell-jaws burst asunder,
Destruction with the fire-flood gushes.
And timely frees the precious charge;
But woe—if, as the flame increases,
The glowing metal stream at large.
Blind-raging with the roar of thunder,
Forth from its riv'n cell it rushes;
And, as from hell-jaws burst asunder,
Destruction with the fire-flood gushes.
Where senseless force misrules at pleasure,
No form comes forth in rule and measure—
When nations burst the social band,
Ill fares it with the ravag'd land.
Ah! woe! when in the city's slumber,
By stealth a spark of fire gains force;
Woe! when the mob's unfetter'd number
Finds in itself its sole resource.
Then—Uproar, to the bell ropes springing,
Spreads far and wide the dread alarm;
And where Peace hail'd its joyful ringing,
Its signal bids the city arm.
No form comes forth in rule and measure—
When nations burst the social band,
Ill fares it with the ravag'd land.
Ah! woe! when in the city's slumber,
By stealth a spark of fire gains force;
Woe! when the mob's unfetter'd number
Finds in itself its sole resource.
Then—Uproar, to the bell ropes springing,
Spreads far and wide the dread alarm;
And where Peace hail'd its joyful ringing,
Its signal bids the city arm.
241
“Freedom! Equality!”—all crying,
The burgher arms for his defence;
Through streets, through halls, this, that way flying,
Fell murder's bands their work commence.
Wild women, like hyænas darting,
Laughs mixed with groans, strange dread impart;
While thrills the nerve, while blood is starting,
The woman rends the quivering heart.
The burgher arms for his defence;
Through streets, through halls, this, that way flying,
Fell murder's bands their work commence.
Wild women, like hyænas darting,
Laughs mixed with groans, strange dread impart;
While thrills the nerve, while blood is starting,
The woman rends the quivering heart.
No sanctity the bosom shielding,
No decency, restraint, or shame,
The wicked, as the good are yielding,
To crime impunity proclaim.
No decency, restraint, or shame,
The wicked, as the good are yielding,
To crime impunity proclaim.
'Tis dire to rouse a lion sleeping,
Terrific is the tiger's jaw,
But there's a woe surpasses weeping,—
'Tis savage man let loose from law:
Woe!—who to him, the blind the cruel,
Lends the blest gift from heav'n brought down—
It lights him not, but fires the fuel
That turns to ashes land and town.
Terrific is the tiger's jaw,
But there's a woe surpasses weeping,—
'Tis savage man let loose from law:
Woe!—who to him, the blind the cruel,
Lends the blest gift from heav'n brought down—
It lights him not, but fires the fuel
That turns to ashes land and town.
242
Joy! joy to me, kind heav'n has giv'n;
Lo! like a star of golden birth,
The metal polish'd, smooth, and even,
Comes from its coverture of earth.
Lo! around its beauteous crown
Radiance, sunlike radiance thrown,
And the coat of arms' gay burnish,
New honour to my skill shall surnish.
Lo! like a star of golden birth,
The metal polish'd, smooth, and even,
Comes from its coverture of earth.
Lo! around its beauteous crown
Radiance, sunlike radiance thrown,
And the coat of arms' gay burnish,
New honour to my skill shall surnish.
Come all! come all!
Close your ranks, in order settle:
Baptize we now the hallow'd metal;
“Concordia!”—Such her name we call.
To harmony, to heartfelt union,
It gathers in the blest communion.
Be this henceforward its vocation;
For this I watch'd o'er its creation,
That while our life goes lowly under,
The Bell, 'mid yon blue heav'n's expansion,
Should soar, the neighbour of the thunder,
And border on the starry mansion.
Its voice from yon aërial height
Shall seem the music of the sphere,
That rolling lauds its Maker's might,
And leads along the crowned year:
To solemn and eternal things
Alone shall consecrate its chime,
And hourly, as it swiftly swings,
O'ertake the flying wing of time:
Shall lend to Fate its iron tongue,
Heartless itself, nor form'd to feel,
Shall follow, life's mixed scenes among,
Each turn of Fortune's fickle wheel.
And, as its echo on the gale
Dies off, though long and loud the tone,
Shall teach that all on earth shall fail,
All pass away—save God alone.
Now, with the rope's unweary'd might,
From its dark womb weigh up the Bell,
That it may gain th' aërial height,
And in the realm of Echo dwell.
Draw! firmly draw!—it swings, it swings,
Hark! hark! again, it rings, it rings.
Joy to this town, be heard around!
Peace unto all, the Bell's first sound!
Close your ranks, in order settle:
Baptize we now the hallow'd metal;
“Concordia!”—Such her name we call.
To harmony, to heartfelt union,
It gathers in the blest communion.
Be this henceforward its vocation;
For this I watch'd o'er its creation,
That while our life goes lowly under,
The Bell, 'mid yon blue heav'n's expansion,
Should soar, the neighbour of the thunder,
And border on the starry mansion.
Its voice from yon aërial height
Shall seem the music of the sphere,
That rolling lauds its Maker's might,
And leads along the crowned year:
243
Alone shall consecrate its chime,
And hourly, as it swiftly swings,
O'ertake the flying wing of time:
Shall lend to Fate its iron tongue,
Heartless itself, nor form'd to feel,
Shall follow, life's mixed scenes among,
Each turn of Fortune's fickle wheel.
And, as its echo on the gale
Dies off, though long and loud the tone,
Shall teach that all on earth shall fail,
All pass away—save God alone.
Now, with the rope's unweary'd might,
From its dark womb weigh up the Bell,
That it may gain th' aërial height,
And in the realm of Echo dwell.
Draw! firmly draw!—it swings, it swings,
Hark! hark! again, it rings, it rings.
Joy to this town, be heard around!
Peace unto all, the Bell's first sound!
The above passage, in which the peculiar character of “The Bell of Schiller” is described with much taste and feeling, is extracted from a very entertaining publication of Mr. Dodd, “An Autumn near the Rhine.”
244
JOB, CHAP. XXVIII.
There's a path to the fowl, as it flieth, ne'er shown,
Unseen by the vulture's keen eye,
By the whelps of the lion, untrodden, unknown,
Nor the fierce lion passeth it by:
Unseen by the vulture's keen eye,
By the whelps of the lion, untrodden, unknown,
Nor the fierce lion passeth it by:
There's an arm on the cliff, on the ice-crested brow,
By the roots that o'er-turneth the mountains,
And cutteth the rocks where the fresh springs shall flow,
And bindeth the floods in their fountains.
By the roots that o'er-turneth the mountains,
And cutteth the rocks where the fresh springs shall flow,
And bindeth the floods in their fountains.
But where is the path, where shall Wisdom be found,
And where, Understanding! thy way?—
Not the land of the living inherits that ground,
No price can its value repay.
And where, Understanding! thy way?—
Not the land of the living inherits that ground,
No price can its value repay.
A voice of the Earth saith “it is not in me:”
“Not in me,” saith a voice of the Deep.
Not mines roof'd with gold can its purchase price be,
Nor caves where the silver ores sleep.
“Not in me,” saith a voice of the Deep.
Not mines roof'd with gold can its purchase price be,
Nor caves where the silver ores sleep.
245
Not the onyx, its price, nor the pearl-seeded main,
Of the coral no mention be made:
Nor thy topaz, oh Æthiop, that gift can obtain,
Nor a crown with bright rubies array'd.
Of the coral no mention be made:
Nor thy topaz, oh Æthiop, that gift can obtain,
Nor a crown with bright rubies array'd.
Whence then cometh Wisdom? her dwelling pro-claim:
Thy place, Understanding! say, where?
Destruction and Death say “we heard of its fame,
“But cannot its secret declare.”
Thy place, Understanding! say, where?
Destruction and Death say “we heard of its fame,
“But cannot its secret declare.”
But—God understandeth, oh Wisdom! thy birth:
God knoweth the man to whom giv'n:
For he looketh at once to the ends of the earth,
And seeth the whole under heav'n:
God knoweth the man to whom giv'n:
For he looketh at once to the ends of the earth,
And seeth the whole under heav'n:
Thence He maketh a weight for the winds as they sweep,
Thence weighed the waters by measure,
When He made a decree that controuleth the deep,
And stampt on the thunder his pleasure.
Thence weighed the waters by measure,
When He made a decree that controuleth the deep,
And stampt on the thunder his pleasure.
Then He search'd it, and saw it, and utter'd the word,
To man his high precept commanding:
“Behold that is Wisdom, the fear of the Lord,
“And from evil to fly, Understanding.”
To man his high precept commanding:
“Behold that is Wisdom, the fear of the Lord,
“And from evil to fly, Understanding.”
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