No More Learning

[65] 245
Yet thither the world's business finds its way
At times, and tales unsought beguile the day,
And _there_ are those fond thoughts which Solitude, [66]
However stern, is powerless to exclude. [67]
There doth the maiden watch her lover's sail 250
Approaching, and upbraid the tardy gale;
At midnight listens till his parting oar,
And its last echo, can be heard no more. [68]

And what if ospreys, cormorants, herons cry,
Amid tempestuous vapours driving by, [69] 255
Or hovering over wastes too bleak to rear
That common growth of earth, the foodful ear; [70]
Where the green apple shrivels on the spray,
And pines the unripened pear in summer's kindliest ray; [71]
Contentment shares the desolate domain [72] 260
With Independence, child of high Disdain.
Exulting 'mid the winter of the skies,
Shy as the jealous chamois, Freedom flies,
And grasps by fits her sword, and often eyes;
And sometimes, as from rock to rock she bounds 265
The Patriot nymph starts at imagined sounds,
And, wildly pausing, oft she hangs aghast,
Whether some old Swiss air hath checked her haste
Or thrill of Spartan fife is caught between the blast. [73]

Swoln with incessant rains from hour to hour, [74] 270
All day the floods a deepening murmur pour:
The sky is veiled, and every cheerful sight:
Dark is the region as with coming night;
But what a sudden burst of overpowering light!
Triumphant on the bosom of the storm, 275
Glances the wheeling eagle's glorious form! [75]
Eastward, in long perspective glittering, shine
The wood-crowned cliffs that o'er the lake recline;
Those lofty cliffs a hundred streams unfold, [76]
At once to pillars turned that flame with gold: 280
Behind his sail the peasant shrinks, to shun
The _west_, [77] that burns like one dilated sun,
A crucible of mighty compass, felt
By mountains, glowing till they seem to melt. [78]

But, lo! the boatman, overawed, before 285
The pictured fane of Tell suspends his oar;
Confused the Marathonian tale appears,
While his eyes sparkle with heroic tears. [79]
And who, that walks where men of ancient days
Have wrought with godlike arm the deeds of praise, 290
Feels not the spirit of the place control,
Or rouse [80] and agitate his labouring soul?
Say, who, by thinking on Canadian hills,
Or wild Aosta lulled by Alpine rills,
On Zutphen's plain; or on that highland dell, 295
Through which rough Garry cleaves his way, can tell
What high resolves exalt the tenderest thought
Of him whom passion rivets to the spot, [81]
Where breathed the gale that caught Wolfe's happiest sigh,
And the last sunbeam fell on Bayard's eye; 300
Where bleeding Sidney from the cup retired,
And glad Dundee in "faint huzzas" [S] expired?

But now with other mind I stand alone
Upon the summit of this naked cone,
And watch the fearless chamois-hunter chase 305
His prey, through tracts abrupt of desolate space, [82]
[T] Through vacant worlds where Nature never gave
A brook to murmur or a bough to wave,
Which unsubstantial Phantoms sacred keep;
Thro' worlds where Life, and Voice, and Motion sleep; 310
Where silent Hours their death-like sway extend,
Save when the avalanche breaks loose, to rend
Its way with uproar, till the ruin, drowned
In some dense wood or gulf of snow profound,
Mocks the dull ear of Time with deaf abortive sound. [83] 315
--'Tis his, while wandering on from height to height,
To see a planet's pomp and steady light
In the least star of scarce-appearing night;
While the pale moon moves near him, on the bound
Of ether, shining with diminished round, [84] 320
And far and wide the icy summits blaze,
Rejoicing in the glory of her rays:
To him the day-star glitters small and bright,
Shorn of its beams, insufferably white,
And he can look beyond the sun, and view 325
Those fast-receding depths of sable blue
Flying till vision can no more pursue! [85]
--At once bewildering mists around him close,
And cold and hunger are his least of woes;
The Demon of the snow, with angry roar 330
Descending, shuts for aye his prison door.
Soon with despair's whole weight his spirits sink;
Bread has he none, the snow must be his drink;
And, ere his eyes can close upon the day, [86]
The eagle of the Alps o'ershades her prey.
335

Now couch thyself where, heard with fear afar, [87]
Thunders through echoing pines the headlong Aar;
Or rather stay to taste the mild delights
Of pensive Underwalden's [U] pastoral heights.
--Is there who 'mid these awful wilds has seen 340
The native Genii walk the mountain green?
Or heard, while other worlds their charms reveal,
Soft music o'er [88] the aerial summit steal?
While o'er the desert, answering every close,
Rich steam of sweetest perfume comes and goes. 345
--And sure there is a secret Power that reigns
Here, where no trace of man the spot profanes,
Nought but the _chalets_, [V] flat and bare, on high
Suspended 'mid the quiet of the sky;
Or distant herds that pasturing upward creep, 350
And, not untended, climb the dangerous steep. [89]
How still! no irreligious sound or sight
Rouses the soul from her severe delight.
An idle voice the sabbath region fills
Of Deep that calls to Deep across the hills, 355
And with that voice accords the soothing sound [90]
Of drowsy bells, for ever tinkling round;
Faint wail of eagle melting into blue
Beneath the cliffs, and pine-woods' steady _sugh_; [W]
The solitary heifer's deepened low; 360
Or rumbling, heard remote, of falling snow.
All motions, sounds, and voices, far and nigh,
Blend in a music of tranquillity; [91]
Save when, a stranger seen below [92] the boy
Shouts from the echoing hills with savage joy. 365

When, from the sunny breast of open seas,
And bays with myrtle fringed, the southern breeze
Comes on to gladden April with the sight
Of green isles widening on each snow-clad height; [93]
When shouts and lowing herds the valley fill, 370
And louder torrents stun the noon-tide hill,
[94] The pastoral Swiss begin the cliffs to scale,
Leaving to silence the deserted vale; [95]
And like the Patriarchs in their simple age
Move, as the verdure leads, from stage to stage; [96] 375
High and more high in summer's heat they go, [97]
And hear the rattling thunder far below;
Or steal beneath the mountains, half-deterred,
Where huge rocks tremble to the bellowing herd. [98]

One I behold who, 'cross the foaming flood, 380
Leaps with a bound of graceful hardihood;
Another high on that green ledge;--he gained
The tempting spot with every sinew strained; [99]
And downward thence a knot of grass he throws,
Food for his beasts in time of winter snows. [100] 385
--Far different life from what Tradition hoar
Transmits of happier lot in times of yore! [101]
Then Summer lingered long; and honey flowed
From out the rocks, the wild bees' safe abode: [102]
Continual waters [103] welling cheered the waste, 390
And plants were wholesome, now of deadly taste:
Nor Winter yet his frozen stores had piled,
Usurping where the fairest herbage smiled:
Nor Hunger driven the herds from pastures bare,
To climb the treacherous cliffs for scanty fare. [104] 395
Then the milk-thistle flourished through the land,
And forced the full-swoln udder to demand,
Thrice every day, the pail and welcome hand. [105]
Thus does the father to his children tell
Of banished bliss, by fancy loved too well. [106] 400
Alas!