II

BRUGES

RUGÈS I saw attired with golden light

BR

(Streamed from the west) as with a robe of
power:

The splendour fled; and now the sunless hour,
That, slowly making way for peaceful night,
Best suits with fallen grandeur, to my sight
Offers the beauty, the magnificence,
And sober graces, left her for defence
Against the injuries of time, the spite
Of fortune, and the desolating storms

Of future war. Advance not-spare to hide,
O gentle Power of darkness! these mild hues ;
Obscure not yet these silent avenues

Of stateliest architecture, where the Forms
Of nun-like females with soft motion, glide!

III

BRUGES

HE Spirit of Antiquity-enshrined

TH

1821

In sumptuous buildings, vocal in sweet song,

In picture, speaking with heroic tongue,

And with devout solemnities entwined

Mounts to the seat of grace within the mind :

Hence Forms that glide with swan-like ease along,
Hence motions, even amid the vulgar throng,

To an harmonious decency confined:

As if the streets were consecrated ground,
The city one vast temple, dedicate
To mutual respect in thought and deed;
To leisure, to forbearances sedate;

To social cares from jarring passions freed;
A deeper peace than that in deserts found!

1820 or 1821

IV

INCIDENT AT BRUGÈS

N Brugès town is many a street
Whence busy life hath fled;
Where, without hurry, noiseless feet
The grass-grown pavement tread.

ΤΟ

ΤΟ

There heard we, halting in the shade
Flung from a Convent-tower,
A harp that tuneful prelude made
To a voice of thrilling power.

The measure, simple truth to tell,
Was fit for some gay throng;

Though from the same grim turret fell
The shadow and the song.

When silent were both voice and chords,
The strain seemed doubly dear,
Yet sad as sweet,-for English words

Had fallen upon

the ear.

It was a breezy hour of eve;

And pinnacle and spire

Quivered and seemed almost to heave,
Clothed with innocuous fire;

But, where we stood, the setting sun
Showed little of his state;

And, if the glory reached the Nun,
'Twas through an iron grate.

Not always is the heart unwise,
Nor pity idly born,

If even a passing Stranger sighs

For them who do not mourn.

Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,
Captive, whoe'er thou be!

Oh! what is beauty, what is love,

And opening life to thee?

Such feeling pressed upon my soul,
A feeling sanctified

By one soft trickling tear that stole
From the Maiden at my side;

Less tribute could she pay than this,
Borne gaily o'er the sea,

Fresh from the beauty and the bliss
Of English liberty?

1828

ΙΟ

20

30

A

V

AFTER VISITING THE FIELD OF WATERLOO

WINGED Goddess-clothed in vesture wrought

Of rainbow colours; One whose port was bold, Whose overburthened hand could scarcely hold

The glittering crowns and garlands which it brought

40

Hovered in air above the far-famed Spot.
She vanished; leaving prospect blank and cold
Of wind-swept corn that wide around us rolled
In dreary billows, wood, and meagre cot,
And monuments that soon must disappear:
Yet a dread local recompense we found;
While glory seemed betrayed, while patriot-zeal
Sank in our hearts, we felt as men should feel
With such vast hoards of hidden carnage near,
And horror breathing from the silent ground!

WH

VI

BETWEEN NAMUR AND LIEGE

1820 or 1821

ΙΟ

HAT lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose?
Is this the stream, whose cities, heights, and
plains,

War's favourite playground, are with crimson stains
Familiar, as the Morn with pearly dews?
The Morn, that now, along the silver MEUSE,
Spreading her peaceful ensigns, calls the swains
To tend their silent boats and ringing wains,
Or strip the bough whose mellow fruit bestrews
The ripening corn beneath it. As mine eyes
Turn from the fortified and threatening hill,
How sweet the prospect of yon watery glade,
With its grey rocks clustering in pensive shade-
That, shaped like old monastic turrets, rise
From the smooth meadow-ground, serene and still!

W

Το

VII

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE

AS it to disenchant, and to undo,

1820 or 1821

ΙΟ

That we approached the Seat of Charlemaine? sweep from many an old romantic strain

That faith which no devotion may renew!

Why does this puny Church present to view

Her feeble columns? and that scanty chair!

This sword that one of our weak times might wear!
Objects of false pretence, or meanly true!

If from a traveller's fortune I might claim
A palpable memorial of that day,
Then would I seek the Pyrenean Breach

That ROLAND clove with huge two-handed sway,'
And to the enormous labour left his name,

Where unremitting frosts the rocky crescent bleach.

1820 or 1821

O

VIII

IN THE CATHEDRAL AT COLOGNE

FOR the help of Angels to complete

This Temple-Angels governed by a plan Thus far pursued (how gloriously!) by Man, Studious that He might not disdain the seat Who dwells in heaven! But that aspiring heat Hath failed; and now, ye Powers! whose gorgeous wings And splendid aspect yon emblazonings But faintly picture, 'twere an office meet For you, on these unfinished shafts to try The midnight virtues of your harmony :This vast design might tempt you to repeat Strains that call forth upon empyreal ground Immortal Fabrics, rising to the sound Of penetrating harps and voices sweet!

IX

1820 or 1821

IN A CARRIAGE, UPON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE

MID this dance of objects sadness steals

AMID

O'er the defrauded heart-while sweeping by,

As in a fit of Thespian jollity,

Beneath her vine-leaf crown the green Earth reels:
Backward, in rapid evanescence, wheels

The venerable pageantry of Time,

Each beetling rampart, and each tower sublime,
And what the Dell unwillingly reveals

Of lurking cloistral arch, through trees espied
Near the bright River's edge. Yet why repine?
To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze—
Such sweet wayfaring-of life's spring the pride,
Her summer's faithful joy-that still is mine,
And in fit measure cheers autumnal days.

X
HYMN

1820 or 1821

FOR THE BOATMEN, AS THEY APPROACH THE RAPIDs under

J

THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG

ESU! bless our slender Boat,

By the current swept along;

Loud its threatenings-let them not
Drown the music of a song

Breathed thy mercy to implore,
Where these troubled waters roar!

ΤΟ

ΤΟ

Saviour, for our warning, seen

Bleeding on that precious Rood;
If, while through the meadows green
Gently wound the peaceful flood,
We forgot Thee, do not Thou
Disregard Thy Suppliants now!

Hither, like yon ancient Tower
Watching o'er the River's bed,
Fling the shadow of thy power,
Else we sleep among the dead;
Thou who trod'st the billowy sea,
Shield us in our jeopardy!

Guide our Bark among the waves;

Through the rocks our passage smooth;
Where the whirlpool frets and raves
Let Thy love its anger soothe :
All our hope is placed in Thee;
Miserere Domine !1

XI

1820 or 1821

THE SOURCE OF THE DANUBE

OT, like his great Compeers, indignantly
Doth DANUBE spring to life!

Stream

The wandering

Who loves the Cross, yet to the Crescent's gleam
Unfolds a willing breast) with infant glee
Slips from his prison walls: and Fancy, free
To follow in his track of silver light,

Mounts
on rapt wing, and with a moment's flight
Hath reached the encincture of that gloomy sea
Whose waves the Orphean lyre forbad to meet
In conflict; whose rough winds forgot their jars
To waft the heroic progeny of Greece;

When the first Ship sailed for the Golden Fleece-
ARGO-exalted for that daring feat

To fix in heaven her shape distinct with stars.

1820 or 1821

ΤΟ

XII

ON APPROACHING THE STAUB-BACH, LAUTERBRUNNEN

TTERED by whom, or how inspired-designed
For what strange service, does this concert reach

UT

Our ears, and near the dwellings of mankind!

'Mid fields familiarised to human speech?—

1 See Note.