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THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, 1820.

view contrasted with sea-like extent of
plain fading into the sky; and this again,
in an opposite quarter, with an horizon HIGH on her speculative tower
of the loftiest and boldest Alps-unite Stood Science, waiting for the hour
in composing a prospect more diversi- When Sol was destined to endure
fied by magnificence, beauty, and sub-
limity, than perhaps any other point in That darkening of his radiant face
Europe, of so inconsiderable an eleva- Which Superstition strove to chase,
tion, commands.
| Erewhile, with rites impure.

THOU Sacred Pile! whose turrets rise
From yon steep mountain's loftiest stage,
Guarded by lone San Salvador;
Sink (if thou must) as heretofore,
To sulphurous bolts a sacrifice,
But ne'er to human rage!

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Afloat beneath Italian skies,
Through regions fair as Paradise
We gaily pass'd, till Nature wrought
A silent and unlook'd-for change,
That check'd the desultory range
Of joy and sprightly thought.

Where'er was dipp'd the toiling oar,
The waves danced round us as before,
As lightly, though of alter'd hue,
'Mid recent coolness, such as falls
At noontide from umbrageous walls
That screen the morning dew.

No vapour stretch'd its wings; no cloud
Cast far or near a murky shroud;

The sky an azure field display'd;
'Twas sunlight sheath'd and gently
charm'd,

Of all its sparkling rays disarm'd,
And as in slumber laid;-

Or something night and day between,
Like moonshine,—but the hue was green;
Still moonshine, without shadow, spread
On jutting rock, and curvèd shore,
Where gazed the peasant from his door,
And on the mountain's head.

It tinged the Julian steeps, -it lay,
Lugano! on thy ample bay;
The solemnizing veil was drawn
O'er villas, terraces, and towers;
To Albogasio's olive bowers,
Porlezza's verdant lawn.

But Fancy with the speed of fire
Hath past to Milan's loftiest spire,
And there alights 'mid that aërial host
Of Figures human and divine,*

4 The Statues ranged round the spire and along the roof of the Cathedral of Milan, have been found fault with by persons whose exclusive taste is unfortunate for themselves. It is true that the same expense and labour, judiciously directed to purposes more strictly architectural, might have much heightened the general

White as the snows of Apennine
Indúrated by frost.

Awe stricken she beholds th' array
That guards the Temple night and day;
Angels she sees, that might from Heaven
have flown,

And Virgin-saints, who not in vain
Have striven by purity to gain
The beatific crown;-

See long-drawn files, concentric rings
Each narrowing above each; - the wings,
Th' uplifted palms, the silent marble lips,
The starry zone 5 of sovereign height; –
All steep'd in this portentous light!
All suffering dim eclipse!

Thus, after Man had fallen, (if aught
These perishable spheres have wrought
May with that issue be compared,)
Throngs of celestial visages,
Darkening like water in the breeze,
A holy sadness shared.

Lo! while I speak, the labouring Sun
His glad deliverance has begun:
The cypress waves her sombre plume
More cheerily; and town and tower,
The vineyard and the olive-bower,
Their lustre re-assume!

O Ye, who guard and grace my home
While in far-distant lands we roam,
What countenance hath this Day put on
for you?

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Such (but, O lavish Nature! why
That dark unfathomable eye,
Where lurks a Spirit that replies
To stillest mood of softest skies,
Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown,
Another's first, and then her own?)-

While we look'd round with favour'd eyes, Such, haply, yon ITALIAN Maid,

Did sullen mists hide lake and skies
And mountains from your view?

Our Lady's laggard Votaress,
Halting beneath the chestnut shade
To accomplish there her loveliness:
Nice aid maternal fingers lend;
A Sister serves with slacker hand;
Then, glittering like a star, she joins the

festal band.

effect of the building; for, seen from the
ground, the Statues appear diminutive.
But the coup-d'ocil, from the best point of
view, which is half-way up the spire,
must strike an unprejudiced person with
admiration. It was with great pleasure
that I saw, during the two ascents which How blest (if truth may entertain
we made, several children, of different Coy fancy with a bolder strain)
ages, tripping up and down the slender
spire, and pausing to look around them,
with feelings much more animated than

could have been derived from these or 6 This poem is, I believe, a favourite
the finest works of art, if placed within
easy reach.-Remember also that you
have the Alps on one side, and on the
other the Apennines, with the plain of
Lombardy between!

5 Above the highest circle of figures is a zone of metallic stars.

with all lovers of Wordsworth. Profes sor Wilson says of it, in The Recreations of Christopher North, "we do not hesitate to pronounce The Eclipse of the Sun one of the finest lyrical effusions of combined thought, passion, sentiment, and imagery within the whole compass of poetry."

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"Sweet HIGHLAND Girl! a very shower
Of beauty was thy earthly dower,"
When thou didst flit before mine eyes,
Gay Vision under sullen skies,
While Hope and Love around thee play'd,
Near the rough falls of Inversneyd!?
Have they, who nursed the blossom, seen
No breach of promise in the fruit?
Was joy, in following joy, as keen
As grief can be in grief's pursuit?
When youth had flown did hope still bless
Thy goings, or the cheerfulness
Of innocence survive to mitigate distress?

But from our course why turn, to tread
A way with shadows overspread;
Where what we gladliest would believe
Is fear'd as what may most deceive?
Bright Spirit, not with amaranth crown'd
But heath-bells from thy native ground,
Time cannot thin thy flowing hair,
Nor take one ray of light from Thee;
For in my Fancy thou dost share
The gift of immortality;

And there shall bloom, with Thee allied,

7 See the poem To a Highland Girl, page 160.

The Votaress by Lugano's side; And that intrepid Nymph on Uri's steep descried!

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

The Youth whose death gave occasion to these elegiac verses was Frederick William Goddard, from Boston in North America. He was in his twentieth year, and had resided for some time with a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Geneva for the completion of his education. Accompanied by a fellow-pupil, a native of Scotland, he had just set out on a Swiss tour when it was his misfortune to fall in with a friend of mine who was hastening to join our party. The travellers, after spending a day together on the road from Berne and Soleure, took leave of each other at night, the young men having intended to proceed directly to Zurich. We ascended the Righi together; and separated at an hour and on a spot well suited to the parting of those who were to meet no more. We had hoped to meet in a few weeks at Geneva; but on the third succeeding day (the 21st of Angust) Mr. Goddard perished, being overset in a boat while crossing the lake of Zurich.

LULL'D by the sound of pastoral bells,
Rude Nature's Pilgrims did we go,
From the dread summit of the Queen
Of mountains,8 through a deep ravine,
Where, in her holy chapel, dwells
"Our Lady of the Snow."

The sky was blue, the air was mild;
Free were the streams and green the bow-
As if, to rough assaults unknown, [ers;
The genial spot had ever shown
A countenance that as sweetly smiled, -
The face of summer-hours.

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O GODDARD! what art thou?-a name,-
A sunbeam follow'd by a shade!
Nor more, for aught that time supplies,
The great, th' experienced, and the wise:
Too much from this frail Earth we claim,
And therefore are betray'd.

We met, while festive mirth ran wild,
Where, from a deep lake's mighty urn,
Forth slips, like an enfranchised slave,
A sea-green river, proud to lave,
With current swift and undefiled,
The towers of old LUCERNE.

We parted upon solemn ground
Far-lifted towards th' unfading sky;
But all our thoughts were then of Earth,
That gives to common pleasures birth;
And nothing in our hearts we found
That prompted even a sigh.

Fetch, sympathising Powers of air,
Fetch, ye that post o'er seas and lands,
Herbs moisten'd by Virginian dew,
A most untimely grave to strew,
Whose turf may never know the care
Of kindred human hands!

Belov'd by every gentle Muse
He left his Transatlantic home:
Europe, a realised romance,
Had open'd on his eager glance;
What present bliss! what golden views!
What stores for years to come!

Tho' lodged within no vigorous frame,
His soul her daily tasks renew'd,
Blithe as the lark on sun-gilt wings
High poised, or as the wren that sings
In shady places, to proclaim
Her modest gratitude.

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9 Goldau is one of the villages desolated by the fall of part of the mountain Rossberg.

10 The corpse of poor Goddard was cast ashore on the estate of a Swiss gentleman, Mr. Keller, who performed all the rites of hospitality which could be rendered to the dead as well as to the living. He had a handsome mural monument erected in the church of Küsnacht, recording the death of the young American, and also set an inscription on the shore of the lake, pointing out the spot where the body was deposited by the

waves.

11 The persuasion here expressed was not groundless. The first human consolation that the afflicted Mother felt was derived from this tribute to her son's memory; a fact which the author learned, at his own residence, from her Daughter, who visited Europe some years afterwards.

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Come streaming down the streaming | To stately Hall and Cottage rude

panes. [mound Flow'd from his life what still they hold, Now stretch'd beneath his grass-green Light pleasures, every day, renew'd;

He rests a prisoner of the ground.

He loved the breathing air,

He loved the Sun, but if it rise

Or set, to him where now he lies,
Brings not a moment's care.
Alas! what idle words; but take
The Dirge which, for our Master's sake
And yours, love prompted me to make.
The rhymes so homely in attire
With learned ears may ill agree,
But chanted by your Orphan Quire
Will make a touching melody..

And blessings half a century old.

O true of heart, of spirit gay!
Thy faults, where not already gone
From memory, prolong their stay
For charity's sweet sake alone.

Such solace find we for our loss;
And what beyond this thought we crave
Comes in the promise from the Cross,
Shining upon thy happy grave.'

DIRGE.

MOURN,Shepherd,near thy old grey stone;
Thou Angler, by the silent flood;
And mourn when thou art all alone,
Thou Woodman, in the distant wood!

Thou one blind Sailor, rich in joy
Though blind, thy tunes in sadness hum;
And mourn, thou poor half-witted Boy!
Born deaf, and living deaf and dumb.
Thou drooping sick Man, bless the Guide
Who check'd or turn'd thy headstrong
As he before had sanctified [youth,
Thy infancy with heavenly truth.

Ye Striplings, light of heart and gay,
Bold settlers on some foreign shore,
Give, when your thoughts are turn'd this
A sigh to him whom we deplore. [way,

For us who here in funeral strain With one accord our voices raise, Let sorrow overcharged with pain Be lost in thankfulness and praise.

And when our hearts shall feel a sting
From ill we meet or good we miss,
May touches of his memory bring
Fond healing, like a mother's kiss. [1798.

BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME

YEARS AFTER.

IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH,

Commander of the East India Company's Ship the Earl of Abergavenny, in which he perished by calamitous shipwreck, Feb. 5th, 1805.

THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and, lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock

Deliberate and slow:

Lord of the air, he took his flight;
O, could he on that woful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near!

Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke, (but let that pang be still,)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.

And let me calmly bless the Power
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn.

Here did we stop; and here look'd round
While each into himself descends,2
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.

1 The subject of this piece is the same as of The Two April Mornings and The Fountain. See pages 146 and 147.

2 The point is two or three yards be

LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat; low the outlet of Grisdale tarn on a foot

But benefits, his gift, we trace,

Express'd in every eye we meet

Round this dear Vale, his native place.

road by which a horse may pass to Paterdale; a ridge of Helvellyn on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right. -Author's Notes, 1843.

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