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

Saviour, in thy image, 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!"


Nor, like his great compeers, indignantly * Doth Danube spring to life! The wandering Stream (who loves the Cross, yet to the Crescent's glean Unfolds a willing breast) with infant glee Slips from his prison walls: and Fancy, free To follow in his track of silver light, reaches, with one brief moment's rapid flight, The vast 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,

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when the first Ship sailed for the golden Fleece, And feel, if we would know. Ango, exalted for that daring feat

so bear in heaven a shape distinct with stars.


Tracks let me follow far from human-kind
Which these illusive greetings may not reach;


weat. The outlet of the LAKE OF THUN.

pris posite; then, possing under the pavement, takes the form of a little, AND EAR EN clear, bright, black, vigorous rill, barely wide enough to tempt the Meily Es Fn El Nues agility of a child five years old to leap over it, —and entering the A Lor’s in LDLV (, Garden, it joins, after a course of a few hundred yards, a Stream Miloccox will. much more considerable than itself. The copiousness of the Spring at Doneschingen must have procured sor it the houour of being named the Source of the Danube. Aloys Reding. it will be remembered, was Captain General of the * - The Staub-bach - is a narrow Stream, which, after a long course s"is" force", which, with a courage and perseveranco worthy of on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging who cause, opposed the flagitious and too successful attempt of precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, Bonaparte to aubjugate their country. forms again a rivulet. The vocal powers of these musical Beggars may seem to be exaggerated; but this wild and savage air was utterly unlike any sounds I had ever heard; the notes reached me from a distance, and on what occasion they were sung I could not guess, only they seemed to belong, in some way or other, to the waterfall; and reminded me of religious services chaunted to Streams and Fountains in Pagan times. Mr Southey has thus accurately characterised the peculiarity of this music: - while we were at the water- see the beautiful song in Mr Coleridge's Tragedy The Remorie. fall, some half-store peasants, chiefly women and girls, assembled wby is the Harp of Quantock silent? just out of reach of the Spring, and set up, —surely, the wildest e-tore this quarter of the black forest was inhabited, the chorus that ever was heard by human ears.-a song not of articuwere of the Danube might have suggested some of those sublime late sounds, but in which the voice was used as a mere instrument of in age, which Arm.trong has so haely described, at present, the music, more flexible than any which "r" could produce,—sweet. contra.. i. most striking. The spring appear. in a capacious stone powerful, and thrilling beyond description." See Notes to - A Tale | us.” “von the front of a Ducal palace, with a pleasure-ground op- of Paraguay." 21

Anot. No a wild and woody hill
A gravelled pathway treading,

we reached a votive Stone that bears

The name of Aloys Reding.


Where only Nature tunes her voice to teach
Careless pursuits, and raptures unconfined.
No Mermaid warbles (to allay the wind
That drives some vessel towrd a dangerous beach)
More thrilling melodies! no caverned Witch,
Chanting a love-spell, ever intertwined
Notes shrill and wild with art more musical!
Alas! that from the lips of abject Want
And Idleness in tatters mendicant
The strain should flow—enjoyment to enthral,
And with regret and useless pity haunt
This bold, this pure, this sky-born WATERfAll!


From the fierce aspect of this River throwing
His giant body oer the steep rock's brink,
Back in astonishment and fear we shrink:
But gradually a calmer look bestowing,
Flowers we espy beside the torrent growing;
Flowers that peep forth from many a cleft and chink,
And, from the whirlwind of his anger drink
Hues ever fresh, in rocky fortress blowing:
They suck, from breath that threatening to destroy
is more benignant than the dewy eve,
Beauty, and life, and motions as of joy:
Nor doubt but He to whom yon Pine-trees nod
Their heads in sign of worship, Nature's God,
These humbler adorations will receive.


« 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
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.
Pupils of Heaven, in order stand
The rustic Maidens, every hand
Upon a Sister's shoulder laid,
To chant, as gliues the boat along,
A simple, but a touching, Song;
To chant, as Angels do above,
The melodies of Peace in Love :


Fon 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.
When first mine eyes beheld that famous Hill
The sacred Engelberg; celestial Bands,

'The Convent whose site was pointed out, according to tradition, in this manner, is seated at its base. The Architecture of the Building is unimpressive, but the situation is worthy of the ho"our which the imagination of the Mountaineers has conferred upon


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Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
With tenderest passion; leaving him to pine
(So fame reports) and die; his sweet-breathed kine
Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked
With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject
The tale as fabulous.-Here while I recline
Mindful how others love this simple Strain,
Even here, upon this glorious Mountain (named
Of God himself from dread pre-eminence)
Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,
Yield to the Music's touching influence,
And joys of distant home my heart enchain.



This Church was almost destroyed by lightning a few years ago, but the Altar and the Image of the Patron Saint were untouched. The Mount, upon the summit of which the Church is built, stands amid the intricacies of the Lake of Lugano; and is, from a hundred points of view, its principal ornament, rising to the height of zooo feet, and, on one side, nearly perpendicular.— The ascent is toilsome ; but the traveller who performs it will be amply rewarded. Splendid fertility, rich woods and dazzling waters, seclusion and confinement of view contrasted with sea-like extent of plain fading into the sky; and this again, in an opposite quarter, with an horizon of the loftiest and boldest Alps—unite in composing a prospect more diversified by magnificence, beauty, and sublimity, than perhaps any other point in Europe, of so inconsiderable an elevation, commands.

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!

On Horeb's top, on Sinai, deigned
To rest the universal Lord :
why leap the fountains from their cells
Where everlasting Bounty dwells?
—That, while the Creature is sustained,
His God may be adored.

Cliffs, fountains, rivers, seasons, times,
Let all remind the soul of heaven;
our slack devotion needs them all;
And Faith, so oft of sense the thrall,
While she, by aid of Nature, climbs,
May hope to be forgiven.

Glory, and patriotic Love,
And all the Pomps of this frail “spot
which men call Earth,” have yearned to seek,
Associate with the simply meek,
Religion in the sainted grove,
And in the hallowed grot.

Thither, in time of adverse shocks,
Of fainting hopes and backward wills,
Did mighty Tell repair of old-
A Hero cast in Nature's mould,
Deliverer of the steadfast rocks
And of the ancient hills'

He, too, of battle-martyrs chief!
Who, to recal his daunted peers,
For victory shaped an open space,
By gathering with a wide embrace,
Into his single heart, a sheaf
Of fatal Austrian spears.


• The Ruins of Fort Fuentes form the crest of a rocky eminence that rises from the plain at the head of the Lake of Como, commanding views up the Walteline, and toward the town of Chiavenna. The prospect in the latter direction is characterised by melancholy sublimity. We rejoiced at being favoured with a distinct view of those Alpine heights; not, as we had expected from the breaking up of the storm, steeped in celestial glory, yet in communion with clouds floating or stationary — scatterings from heaven. The Ruin is interesting both in mass and in detail. An Inscription, upon elaborately-sculptured marble lying on the ground, records that the Fort had been erected by Count Fuentes in the year 1690, during the reign of Philip the Third; and the Chapel, about twenty years after, by one of his descendants. Marble pillars of gateways are yet standing, and a considerable part of the Chapel walls: a smooth green turf has taken place of the pavement, and we could see no trace of altar or image; but every where something to remind one of former splendour, and of devastation and tumult. In our ascent we had passed abundance of wild vines intermingled with bushes: near the ruins were some, ill tended, but growing willingly ; and rock, turf, and fragments of the pile, are alike covered or adorned with a variety of flowers, among which the rose-coloured pink was growing in great beauty. While descending, we discovered on the ground, apart from the path, and at a considerable distance from the ruined Chapel, a statue of a Child in pure white marble, uninjured by the explosion that had driven it so far down the hill. ‘How little, we exclaimed, are these things valued here! Could we but transport this pretty Image to our own garden!’-Yet it seemed it would have been a pity any one should remove it from its couch in the wilderness, which may be its own for hundreds of years. --Extract from Journal.

DREAD hour! when upheaved by war's sulphurous blast,
This sweet-visaged Cherub of Parian stone

So far from the holy enclosure was cast,
To couch in this thicket of brambles alone;

To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm
Of his half-open hand pure from blemish or speck;

And the green, gilded snake, without troubling the calm
Of the beautiful countenance, twine round his neck.

Where haply (kind service to Piety due!)
When winter the grove of its mantle bereaves,

Some Bird (like our own honoured Redbreast) may strew
The desolate Slumberer with moss and with leaves.

FUENTEs once harboured the Good and the Brave,
Nor to her was the dance of soft pleasure unknown;
Her banners for festal enjoyment did wave
While the thrill of her fifes through the mountains
was blown:

Now gads the wild vine o'er the pathless Ascent—
O silence of Nature, how deep is thy sway

When the whirlwind of human destruction is spent,
Our tumults appeased, and our strifespassed away!—

' Arnold Winkelreid, at the battle of Sempach, broke an Austrian phalanx in this manner. The event is one of the most famous in the annals of Swiss heroism; and pictures and prints of it are frequent throughout the country.


pArt 1.

Now that the farewell tear is dried, -
Heaven prosper thee, be hope thy guide'
Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy;
The wages of thy travel, joy!
Whether for London bound—to trill
Thy mountain notes with simple skill;
Or on thy head to poise a show
Of images in seemly row;
The graceful form of milk-white steed,
Or Bird that soared with Ganymede, -
Or through our hamlets thou wilt bear
The sightless Milton, with his hair
Around his placid temples curled;
And Shakspeare at his side—a freight.
If clay could think and mind were weight.
For him who bore the world!
Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy;
The wages of thy travel, joy!

But thou, perhaps, (alert and free
Though serving sage philosophy)
Wilt ramble over hill and dale,
A Vender of the well-wrought Scale -
Whose sentient tube instructs to time
A purpose to a fickle clime;
Whether thou chuse this useful part,
Or minister to finer art,

Though robbed of many a cherished dream.
And crossed by many a shattered scheme.
What stirring wonders wilt thou see
In the proud Isle of liberty!
Yet will the Wanderer sometimes pine
With thoughts which no delights can chase,
Recal a Sister's last embrace,
His Mother's neck entwine;
Nor shall forget the Maiden coy
That would have loved the bright-haired Boy'

My Song, encouraged by the grace
That beams from his ingenuous face,
For this Adventurer scruples not
To prophesy a golden lot;
Due recompense, and safe return
To CoMo's steeps—his happy bourne!
Where he, aloft in garden blade,
Shall tend, with his own dark-eyed Maid,
The towering maize, and prop the twig
That ill supports the luscious fig;
Or feed his eye in paths sun-proof
With purple of the trellis-roof,
That through the jealous leaves escapes
From Cadenabbia's pendant grapes,
—Oh might he tempt that Goatherd-child
To share his wanderings' him whose look
Even yet my heart can scarcely brook,
So touchingly he smiled,
As with a rapture caught from heaven,
For unasked alms in pity given.


pArt in.

With nodding plumes, and lightly drest
Like Foresters in leaf-green vest,
The Helvetian Mountaineers, on ground
For Tell's dread archery renowned,
Before the target stood—to claim
The guerdon of the steadiest aim.
Loud was the rifle-gun's report,
A startling thunder quick and short'
But, flying through the heights around,
Echo prolonged a tell-tale sound
Of hearts and hands alike a prepared
The treasures they enjoy to guard!»
And, if there be a favoured hour
When Heroes are allowed to quit
The Tomb, and on the clouds to sit
With tutelary power,
On their Descendants shedding grace,
This was the hour, and that the place.

But Truth inspired the Bards of old
When of an iron age they told,
Which to unequal laws gave birth,
That drove Astraea from the earth.
—A gentle Boy (perchance with blood
As noble as the best endued,
But seemingly a Thing despised,
Even by the sun and air unprized;
For not a tinge or flowery streak
Appeared upon his tender cheek)
Heart-deaf to those rebounding notes
Of pleasure, by his silent Goats,
Sate far apart in forest shed,
Pase, ragged, bare his feet and head,
Mute as the snow upon the hill,
And, as the Saint he prays to, still.
Ah, what avails heroic deed?
What liberty: if no defence
Be won for feeble Innocence—
Father of All! though wilful Manhood read
His punishment in soul-distress,
Grant to the norm of life its natural blessedness!

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Of what it utters," while the unguilty seek
Unquestionable meanings, still bespeak
A labour worthy of eternal youth !


High on her speculative Tower Stood Science waiting for the Hour When Sol was destined to endure That darkening of his radiant face Which Superstition strove to chase, Erewhile, with rites impure.

Afloat beneath Italian skies,
Through regions fair as Paradise
We gaily passed,—till Nature wrought
A silent and unlooked-for change,
That checked the desultory range
Of joy and sprightly thought.

Where'er was dipped the toiling oar,
The waves danced round us as before,
As lightly, though of altered hue;
Mid recent coolness, such as falls
At noon-tide from umbrageous walls
That screen the morning dew.

No vapour stretched its wings; no cloud
Cast far or near a murky shroud;
The sky an azure field displayed;
'Twas sunlight sheathed and gently charmed,
Of all its sparkling rays disarmed,
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 curved 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 sled to Milan's loftiest spire,
And there alights mid that aerial host
Of figures human and divine,”
White as the snows of Apennine
Indurated by frost.

* — — — — The hand Sang with the voice, and this the argument.-Milton.

• 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 effect of the building; for, seen from the ground, the Statues appear diminutive. But the coup arril, from the best point of view, which is half way up the spire, must strike an unprejudiced Person with admiration ; and surely the election and arrangement of the Figures is exquisitely fitted to support the religion of the Country in the imaginations and feelings of the spectator. It was with great pleasure that I saw,

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