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And haply with a finer care
Of dutiful affection.

The Sun regards it from the West;
And, while in summer glory 10

He sets, his sinking yields a type
Of that pathetic story:

And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss
Amid the grove to linger;
Till all is dim, save this bright Stone 15

Touched by his golden finger.

xv.

COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE
CATHOLIC CANTONS.

Doomed as we are our native dust

To wet with many a bitter shower,

It ill befits us to disdain

The altar, to deride the fane,

Where simple Sufferers bend, in trust 5

To win a happier hour.

I love, where spreads the village lawn,

Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze:

Hail to the firm unmoving cross,

Aloft, where pines their branches toss! 10

And to the chapel far withdrawn,

That lurks by lonely ways!

Where'er we roam—along the brink
Of Rhine—or by the sweeping Po,
Through Alpine vale, or champaign wide, 15
Whate'er we look on, at our side
Be Charity!—to bid us think,
And feel, if we would know.

XVI.

AFTEE-THOUGHT.

Oh Life! without thy chequered scene
Of right and wrong, of weal and woe,
Success and failure, could a ground
For magnanimity be found;
For faith, 'mid ruined hopes, serene?
Or whence could virtue flow?

Pain entered through a ghastly breach—
Nor while sin lasts must effort cease;
Heaven upon earth's an empty boast;
But, for the bowers of Eden lost,
Mercy has placed within our reach
A portion of God's peace.

XVII.

SCENE ON THE LAKE OF BEIENTZ.

"What know we of the Blest above

But that they sing and that they love?"

Yet, if they ever did inspire

A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir,

Now, where those harvest Damsels float 5

Homeward in their rugged Boat,

(While all the ruffling winds are fled—

Each slumbering on some mountain's head),

Now, surely, hath that gracious aid

Been felt, that influence is displayed. 10

Pupils of Heaven, in order stand

The rustic Maidens, every hand

Upon a Sister's shoulder laid,—

To chant, as glides the boat along,

A simple, but a touching, song; 15

To chant, as Angels do above,
The melodies of Peace in love!

XVIII.

ENGELBERG, THE HILL OP ANGELS.1

Fob gentlest uses, oft-times Nature takes
The work of Fancy from her willing hands;
And such a beautiful creation makes
As renders needless spells and magic wands,
And for the boldest tale belief commands. 5
When first mine eyes beheld that famous Hill
The sacred Engelberg, celestial Bands,
With intermingling motions soft and still,
Hung round its top, on wings that changed
their hues at wil1.

Clouds do not name those Visitants; they were
The very Angels whose authentic lays, 11

Sung from that heavenly ground in middle air,
Made known the spot where piety should raise
A holy Structure to the Almighty's praise.
Resplendent Apparition! if in vain »5

My ears did listen, 'twas enough to gaze;
And watch the slow departure of the train,
Whose skirts the glowing Mountain thirsted to
detain.

XIX.

OUR LADY OF THE SNOW.

Meek Virgin Mother, more benign
Than fairest Star, upon the height

1 See Note.

Of thy own mountain,1 set to keep
Lone vigils through the hours of sleep,
What eye can look upon thy shrine
Untroubled at the sight?

These crowded offerings as they hang
In sign of misery relieved,
Even these, without intent of theirs,
Report of comfortless despairs.
Of many a deep and cureless pang
And confidence deceived.

To Thee, in this aerial cleft,

As to a common centre, tend

All sufferers that no more rely 15

On mortal succour—all who sigh

And pine, of human hope hereft,

Nor wish for earthly friend.

And hence, 0 Virgin Mother mild!

Though plenteous flowers around thee blow, 20

Not only from the dreary strife

Of Winter, but the storms of life,

Thee have thy Votaries aptly styled,

Our Lady Op The Snow.

Even for the Man who stops not here, 25

But down the irriguous valley hies,

Thy very name, O Lady! flings,

O'er blooming fields and gushing springs

A tender sense of shadowy fear,

And chastening sympathies! 30

1 Mount Righi.

Nor falls that intermingling shade

To summer-gladsomeness unkind:

It chastens only to requite

With gleams of fresher, purer, light;

While, o'er the flower-enamelled glade, 35

More sweetly breathes the wind.

But on!—a tempting downward way,

A verdant path before us lies;

Clear shines the glorious sun above;

Then give free course to joy and love, 40

Deeming "the evil of the day

Sufficient for the wise."

xx.

EFFUSION,

IN PEESENCE OF THE PAINTED TOWER OF TELL, AT ALTORF.

This Tower stands upon the spot where grew the Linden Tree against which his Son is said to have been placed, when the Father's archery was put to proof under circumstances so famous in Swiss Story.

What though the Italian pencil wrought not

here, Nor such fine skill as did the meed bestow On Marathonian valour, yet the tear Springs forth in presence of this gaudy show, While narrow cares their limits overflow. 5 Thrice happy, burghers, peasants, warriors old, Infants in arms, and ye, that as ye go Home-ward or school-ward, ape what ye

behold; Heroes before your time, in frolic fancy bold!

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