LESSON CLXXXIII. The Contrasts of Alpine Scenery.—BYRON. ADIEU to thee, fair Rhine! how long, delighted, The stranger fain would linger on his way! Thine is a scene alike where souls united, Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray; Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu ! There can be no farewell to scenes like thine; Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine! "Tis with the thankful glănce of parting praise: More mighty spots may rise-more glaring shine, But none unite, in one attaching maze, The brilliant, fair, and soft,-the glories of old days. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, In mockery of man's art; and these withal Still springing o'er thy banks, though empires near them fall. But these recede. Above me are the Alps, Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below. * * * Lake Leman wooes me with its crystal face, The mirror, where the stars and mountains view The stillness of their aspect in each trace Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue. There is too much of man here, to look through, With a fit mind, the might which I behold; But soon in me shall loneliness renew Thoughts hid, but not less cherished than of old, E'er mingling with the herd had penned me in their fold. Clear, plăcid Leman! thy contrasted lake With the wide world I've dwelt in is a thing Torn ocean's roar; but thy soft murmuring That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night; and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Save darkened Jura, whose capped heights appear There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, His life an infancy, and sings his fill; Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star. All heaven and earth are still, though not in sleep, All heaven and earth are still: From the high host Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, Of That which is of all Creator and Defence. The sky is changed! and such a change! Oh Night, Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, And this is in the night :-Most glorious night! And now again 'tis black-and now, the glee Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye, Things that have made me watchful:-the far roll Of what in me is sleepless,-if I rest. But where, of ye, O tempests! is the goal? Are ye like those within the human breast? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest? * The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away, with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,And glowing into day: we may resume The march of our existence and thus I, Still on thy shores, fair Leman! may find room And food for meditation, nor pass by Much that may give us pause, if pondered fittingly. LESSON CLXXXIV. The fat Actor and the Rustic.-NEW MONTHLY Magazine. CARDINAL Wolsey was a man Of an unbounded stomach, Shakspeare says, But had he seen a player in our days He would have owned that Wolsey's bulk ideal Which is, moreover, all alive and real. This player, when the peace enabled shoals To visit every clime between the poles, Must not, in this proceeding, be mistaken; In this most laudable employ He found himself at Lille one afternoon, And catch a peep at the ascending moon, With sight of streams, and trees, and snowy fleeces, When we are pleasantly employed time flies :- Until the moon began to shine; On which he gazed a while, and then Pulled out his watch, and cried-" Păst nine! He couldn't gallop, trot, or canter, (Those who had seen him would confess it) he Eyeing his watch, and now his forehead mopping, "Tell me," he pǎnted in a thawing state, Dost think I can get in, friend, at the gate ?" "Get in !" replied the hesitating loon, Measuring with his eye our bulky wight, "Why-yes, Sir,-I should think you might; "A load of hay went in this afternoon." LESSON CLXXXV. Speech of Catiline before the Roman Senate, in reply to the charges of Cicero.-CROLY's Catiline. CONSCRIPT Fathers! I do not rise to waste the night in words; But here I stand for right.-Let him show proofs;· You have my answer: ***-Let my actions speak. And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong: Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts * Immediately. |