Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill.1 In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight. The form appears of one that spurs his steed Midway along the hill with desperate speed; Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall. While silent stands the admiring crowd below, Silent the visionary warriors go, Till the last banner of the long array On slowly-waving pinions, down the vale; And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Nibbling the water lilies as they pass, Long may they float upon this flood serene ; Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, And breathes in peace the lily of the vale! Yon isle, which feels not even the milkmaid's feet, Yet hears her song, "by distance made more sweet,' Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower; Green water-rushes overspread the floor; Long grass and willows form the woven wall, And swings above the roof the poplar tall. Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk, They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk; Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn; Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings, Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, lines; Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight. 'Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray Where, winding on along some secret bay, The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings His neck, a varying arch, between his towering wings : The eye that marks the gliding creature sees How graceful, pride can be, and how ma jestic, ease. While tender cares and mild domestic loves With furtive watch pursue her as she moves, The female with a meeker charm succeeds, And her brown little-ones around her leads, 1 From Thomson. 2 See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's Survey of the Lakes, accompanied by vouchers of its veracity, that may amuse the reader. Where the brook brawls along the public Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and road Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad, Oft has she taught them on her lap to lay The shining glow-worm; or, in heedless play, Toss it from hand to hand, disquieted; While others, not unseen, are free to shed Green unmolested light upon their mossy bed. Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail, And like a torrent roars the headstrong gale; No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears; No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms, Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms! Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar, Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding small, Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall; Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps, Charmed the tall circle of the enchanted steeps. -The lights are vanished from the watery plains: No wreck of all the pageantry remains. Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no pear. -Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel A sympathetic twilight slowly steal, mind. Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay! Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away: Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains; Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear re tains. The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed, From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon Salute with gladsome note the rising moon, While with a hoary light she frosts the ground, And pours a deeper blue to Æther's bound; And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Some other loiterers beguiling. Such views the youthful Bard allure; REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide, O Thames! that other bards may see As now, fair river! come to me. Vain thought!--Yet be as now thou art, Now let us, as we float along, 1789. 1 Collins's Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, I believe, of the poems which were published during his life-time. This Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza. DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS Much the greatest part of this poem was composed during my walks upon the banks of the Loire in the years 1791, 1792. I will only notice that the description of the valley filled with mist, beginning-"In solemn shapes," was taken from that beautiful region of which the principal features are Lungarn and Sarnen. Nothing that I ever saw in nature left a more delightful impression on my mind than that which I have attempted, alas! how feebly, to convey to others in these lines. Those two lakes have always interested me especially, from bearing, in their size and other features, a resemblance to those of the North of England. It is much to be deplored that a district so beautiful should be so unhealthy as it is. TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES, FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. DEAR SIR, However desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circumstance of our having been companions among the Alps, seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested. In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a postchaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter! I am happy in being conscious that I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must certainly interest, in reminding you of moments to which you can hardly look back without a pleasure not the less dear from a shade of melancholy. You will meet with few images without recollecting the spot where we observed them together; consequently, whatever is feeble in my design, or spiritless in my colouring, will be amply supplied by your own memory. With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a description of some of the features of your native mountains, through which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much pleasure. But the sea-sunsets, which give Happiness (if she had been to be found on earth) among the charms of Nature-Pleasures of the pedestrian Traveller-Author crosses France to the Alps-Present state of the Grande Chartreuse-Lake of Como-Time, Sunset-Same Scene, Twilight-Same Scene, Morning; its voluptuous Character; Old man and forestcottage music-River Tusa-Via Mala and Grison Gipsy-Sckellenen-thal-Lake of UriStormy sunset-Chapel of William Tell-Force of local emotion-Chamois-chaser-View of the higher Alps-Manner of life of a Swiss mountaineer, interspersed with views of the higher Alps-Golden age of the Alps-Life and views continued-Ranz des Vaches, famous Swiss Air -Abbey of Einsiedlen and its pilgrims-Valley of Chamouny-Mont Blanc-Slavery of Savoy -Influence of liberty on cottage-happiness -France-Wish for the Extirpation of slavery -Conclusion. WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground Where from distress a refuge might be found, And solitude prepare the soul for heaven; Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given Where falls the purple morning far and wide In flakes of light upon the mountain side; Where with loud voice the power of water shakes The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes. Yet not unrecompensed the man shall roam, Who at the call of summer quits his home, And plods through some wide realm o'er vale and height, Though seeking only holiday delight; name. No gains too cheaply earned his fancy cloy, Though every passing zephyr whispers joy ; Brisk toil, alternating with ready ease, Feeds the clear current of his sympathies. For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn; And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn ! Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head, And dear the velvet green-sward to his tread : Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye? Upward he looks-"and calls it luxury: Kind Nature's charities his steps attend; In every babbling brook he finds a friend ; While chastening thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed By wisdom, moralise his pensive road. To his spare meal he calls the passing poor; Blesses the moon that comes with kindly |