The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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THE VAUDOIS VALLEYS. |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
THE VAUDOIS VALLEYS.
Yes, thou hast met the sun's last smile
From the haunted hills of Rome;
By many a bright Ægean isle
Thou hast seen the billows foam.
From the haunted hills of Rome;
By many a bright Ægean isle
Thou hast seen the billows foam.
From the silence of the Pyramid,
Thou hast watch'd the solemn flow
Of the Nile, that with its waters hid
The ancient realm below.
Thou hast watch'd the solemn flow
Of the Nile, that with its waters hid
The ancient realm below.
Thy heart hath burn'd, as shepherds sung
Some wild and warlike strain,
Where the Moorish horn once proudly rung
Through the pealing hills of Spain.
Some wild and warlike strain,
Where the Moorish horn once proudly rung
Through the pealing hills of Spain.
And o'er the lonely Grecian streams
Thou hast heard the laurels moan,
With a sound yet murmuring in thy dreams
Of the glory that is gone.
Thou hast heard the laurels moan,
With a sound yet murmuring in thy dreams
Of the glory that is gone.
339
But go thou to the pastoral vales
Of the Alpine mountains old,
If thou wouldst hear immortal tales
By the wind's deep whispers told!
Of the Alpine mountains old,
If thou wouldst hear immortal tales
By the wind's deep whispers told!
Go, if thou lovest the soil to tread
Where man hath nobly striven,
And life, like incense, hath been shed,
An offering unto Heaven.
Where man hath nobly striven,
And life, like incense, hath been shed,
An offering unto Heaven.
For o'er the snows, and round the pines.
Hath swept a noble flood;
The nurture of the peasant's vines
Hath been the martyr's blood!
Hath swept a noble flood;
The nurture of the peasant's vines
Hath been the martyr's blood!
A spirit, stronger than the sword,
And loftier than despair,
Through all the heroic region pour'd,
Breathes in the generous air.
And loftier than despair,
Through all the heroic region pour'd,
Breathes in the generous air.
A memory clings to every steep
Of long-enduring faith,
And the sounding streams glad record keep
Of courage unto death.
Of long-enduring faith,
And the sounding streams glad record keep
Of courage unto death.
Ask of the peasant where his sires
For truth and freedom bled?
Ask, where were lit the torturing fires,
Where lay the holy dead?—
For truth and freedom bled?
Ask, where were lit the torturing fires,
Where lay the holy dead?—
And he will tell thee, all around,
On fount, and turf, and stone,
Far as the chamois' foot can bound,
Their ashes have been sown!
On fount, and turf, and stone,
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Their ashes have been sown!
Go, when the Sabbath-bell is heard
Up through the wilds to float,
When the dark old woods and caves are stirr'd
To gladness by the note.
Up through the wilds to float,
When the dark old woods and caves are stirr'd
To gladness by the note.
When forth, along their thousand rills,
The mountain people come,
Join thou their worship on those hills
Of glorious martyrdom.
The mountain people come,
Join thou their worship on those hills
Of glorious martyrdom.
And while the song of praise ascends,
And while the torrent's voice,
Like the swell of many an organ, blends,
Then let thy soul rejoice.
And while the torrent's voice,
Like the swell of many an organ, blends,
Then let thy soul rejoice.
Rejoice, that human hearts, through scorn,
Through shame, through death made strong,
Before the rocks and heavens have borne
Witness of God so long!
Through shame, through death made strong,
Before the rocks and heavens have borne
Witness of God so long!
See Gilly's Researches among the Mountains of Piedmont, for an interesting account of a Sabbath-day among the upper regions of the Vaudois. The inhabitants of these Protestant valleys, who, like the Swiss, repair with their flocks and herds to the summit of the hills during the summer, are followed thither by their pastors, and at that season of the year assemble on that sacred day to worship in the open air.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |