but serene his brow,
Where daylight lingers on [164] perpetual snow;
Glitter the stars, and all is black below.
Where daylight lingers on [164] perpetual snow;
Glitter the stars, and all is black below.
Wordsworth - 1
[141]
Fresh [142] gales and dews of life's delicious morn, 530
And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return!
Alas! the little joy to man allowed,
Fades like the lustre of an evening cloud; [143]
Or like the beauty in a flower installed,
Whose season was, and cannot be recalled. 535
Yet, when opprest by sickness, grief, or care,
And taught that pain is pleasure's natural heir,
We still confide in more than we can know;
Death would be else the favourite friend of woe. [144]
'Mid savage rocks, and seas of snow that shine, 540
Between interminable tracts of pine,
Within a temple stands an awful shrine, [145]
By an uncertain light revealed, that falls
On the mute Image and the troubled walls.
Oh! give not me that eye of hard disdain 545
That views, undimmed, Ensiedlen's [Bb] wretched fane.
While ghastly faces through the gloom appear, [146]
Abortive joy, and hope that works in fear; [147]
While prayer contends with silenced agony, [148]
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die. 550
If the sad grave of human ignorance bear
One flower of hope--oh, pass and leave it there! [Cc]
The tall sun, pausing [149] on an Alpine spire,
Flings o'er the wilderness a stream of fire:
Now meet we other pilgrims ere the day [150] 555
Close on the remnant of their weary way;
While they are drawing toward the sacred floor
Where, so they fondly think, the worm shall gnaw no more. [151]
How gaily murmur and how sweetly taste
The fountains [Dd] reared for them [152] amid the waste! 560
Their thirst they slake:--they wash their toil-worn feet,
And some with tears of joy each other greet. [153]
Yes, I must [154] see you when ye first behold
Those holy turrets tipped with evening gold,
In that glad moment will for you a sigh 565
Be heaved, of charitable sympathy; [155]
In that glad moment when your [156] hands are prest
In mute devotion on the thankful breast!
Last, let us turn to Chamouny that shields [157]
With rocks and gloomy woods [158] her fertile fields: 570
Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend;--[Ee]
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns
Of purple lights and ever-vernal plains;
Here all the seasons revel hand in hand: 575
'Mid lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fanned [159]
[160] They sport beneath that mountain's matchless height [161]
That holds no commerce with the summer night. [Ee]
From age to age, throughout [162] his lonely bounds
The crash of ruin fitfully resounds; 580
Appalling [163] havoc!
but serene his brow,
Where daylight lingers on [164] perpetual snow;
Glitter the stars, and all is black below. [Ee]
What marvel then if many a Wanderer sigh,
While roars the sullen Arve in anger by, [165] 585
That not for thy reward, unrivall'd [166] Vale! [Ff]
Waves the ripe harvest in the autumnal gale;
That thou, the slave of slaves, art doomed to pine
And droop, while no Italian arts are thine,
To soothe or cheer, to soften or refine. [167] 590
Hail Freedom! whether it was mine to stray,
With shrill winds whistling round my lonely way, [168]
On [169] the bleak sides of Cumbria's heath-clad moors,
Or where dank sea-weed lashes Scotland's shores;
To scent the sweets of Piedmont's breathing rose, 595
And orange gale that o'er Lugano blows;
Still have I found, where Tyranny prevails,
That virtue languishes and pleasure fails, [170]
While the remotest hamlets blessings share
In thy loved [171] presence known, and only there; 600
_Heart_-blessings--outward treasures too which the eye
Of the sun peeping through the clouds can spy,
And every passing breeze will testify. [172]
There, to the porch, belike with jasmine bound
Or woodbine wreaths, a smoother path is wound; [173] 605
The housewife there a brighter garden sees,
Where hum on busier wing her happy bees; [174]
On infant cheeks there fresher roses blow;
And grey-haired men look up with livelier brow,--[175]
To greet the traveller needing food and rest; 610
Housed for the night, or but a half-hour's guest. [176]
And oh, fair France! though now the traveller sees
Thy three-striped banner fluctuate on the breeze;[177]
Though martial songs have banished songs of love,
And nightingales desert the village grove, [178] 615
Scared by the fife and rumbling drum's alarms,
And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
That cease not till night falls, when far and nigh,
Sole sound, the Sourd [Gg] prolongs his mournful cry! [179]
--Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her power 620
Beyond the cottage-hearth, the cottage-door:
All nature smiles, and owns beneath her eyes
Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies.
Yes, as I roamed where Loiret's waters glide
Through rustling aspens heard from side to side, 625
When from October clouds a milder light
Fell where the blue flood rippled into white;
Methought from every cot the watchful bird
Crowed with ear-piercing power till then unheard;
Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams, 630
Rocked the charmed thought in more delightful dreams;
Chasing those pleasant dreams, [180] the falling leaf
Awoke a fainter sense [181] of moral grief;
The measured echo of the distant flail
Wound in more welcome cadence down the vale; 635
With more majestic course the water rolled,
And ripening foliage shone with richer gold. [182]
--But foes are gathering--Liberty must raise
Red on the hills her beacon's far-seen blaze;
Must bid the tocsin ring from tower to tower! -- 640
Nearer and nearer comes the trying hour! [183]
Rejoice, brave Land, though pride's perverted ire
Rouse hell's own aid, and wrap thy fields in fire:
Lo, from the flames a great and glorious birth;
As if a new-made heaven were hailing a new earth! [184] 645
--All cannot be: the promise is too fair
For creatures doomed to breathe terrestrial air:
Yet not for this will sober reason frown
Upon that promise, not the hope disown;
She knows that only from high aims ensue 650
Rich guerdons, and to them alone are due. [185]
Great God! by whom the strifes of men are weighed
In an impartial balance, give thine aid
To the just cause; and, oh!
Fresh [142] gales and dews of life's delicious morn, 530
And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return!
Alas! the little joy to man allowed,
Fades like the lustre of an evening cloud; [143]
Or like the beauty in a flower installed,
Whose season was, and cannot be recalled. 535
Yet, when opprest by sickness, grief, or care,
And taught that pain is pleasure's natural heir,
We still confide in more than we can know;
Death would be else the favourite friend of woe. [144]
'Mid savage rocks, and seas of snow that shine, 540
Between interminable tracts of pine,
Within a temple stands an awful shrine, [145]
By an uncertain light revealed, that falls
On the mute Image and the troubled walls.
Oh! give not me that eye of hard disdain 545
That views, undimmed, Ensiedlen's [Bb] wretched fane.
While ghastly faces through the gloom appear, [146]
Abortive joy, and hope that works in fear; [147]
While prayer contends with silenced agony, [148]
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die. 550
If the sad grave of human ignorance bear
One flower of hope--oh, pass and leave it there! [Cc]
The tall sun, pausing [149] on an Alpine spire,
Flings o'er the wilderness a stream of fire:
Now meet we other pilgrims ere the day [150] 555
Close on the remnant of their weary way;
While they are drawing toward the sacred floor
Where, so they fondly think, the worm shall gnaw no more. [151]
How gaily murmur and how sweetly taste
The fountains [Dd] reared for them [152] amid the waste! 560
Their thirst they slake:--they wash their toil-worn feet,
And some with tears of joy each other greet. [153]
Yes, I must [154] see you when ye first behold
Those holy turrets tipped with evening gold,
In that glad moment will for you a sigh 565
Be heaved, of charitable sympathy; [155]
In that glad moment when your [156] hands are prest
In mute devotion on the thankful breast!
Last, let us turn to Chamouny that shields [157]
With rocks and gloomy woods [158] her fertile fields: 570
Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend;--[Ee]
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns
Of purple lights and ever-vernal plains;
Here all the seasons revel hand in hand: 575
'Mid lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fanned [159]
[160] They sport beneath that mountain's matchless height [161]
That holds no commerce with the summer night. [Ee]
From age to age, throughout [162] his lonely bounds
The crash of ruin fitfully resounds; 580
Appalling [163] havoc!
but serene his brow,
Where daylight lingers on [164] perpetual snow;
Glitter the stars, and all is black below. [Ee]
What marvel then if many a Wanderer sigh,
While roars the sullen Arve in anger by, [165] 585
That not for thy reward, unrivall'd [166] Vale! [Ff]
Waves the ripe harvest in the autumnal gale;
That thou, the slave of slaves, art doomed to pine
And droop, while no Italian arts are thine,
To soothe or cheer, to soften or refine. [167] 590
Hail Freedom! whether it was mine to stray,
With shrill winds whistling round my lonely way, [168]
On [169] the bleak sides of Cumbria's heath-clad moors,
Or where dank sea-weed lashes Scotland's shores;
To scent the sweets of Piedmont's breathing rose, 595
And orange gale that o'er Lugano blows;
Still have I found, where Tyranny prevails,
That virtue languishes and pleasure fails, [170]
While the remotest hamlets blessings share
In thy loved [171] presence known, and only there; 600
_Heart_-blessings--outward treasures too which the eye
Of the sun peeping through the clouds can spy,
And every passing breeze will testify. [172]
There, to the porch, belike with jasmine bound
Or woodbine wreaths, a smoother path is wound; [173] 605
The housewife there a brighter garden sees,
Where hum on busier wing her happy bees; [174]
On infant cheeks there fresher roses blow;
And grey-haired men look up with livelier brow,--[175]
To greet the traveller needing food and rest; 610
Housed for the night, or but a half-hour's guest. [176]
And oh, fair France! though now the traveller sees
Thy three-striped banner fluctuate on the breeze;[177]
Though martial songs have banished songs of love,
And nightingales desert the village grove, [178] 615
Scared by the fife and rumbling drum's alarms,
And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
That cease not till night falls, when far and nigh,
Sole sound, the Sourd [Gg] prolongs his mournful cry! [179]
--Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her power 620
Beyond the cottage-hearth, the cottage-door:
All nature smiles, and owns beneath her eyes
Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies.
Yes, as I roamed where Loiret's waters glide
Through rustling aspens heard from side to side, 625
When from October clouds a milder light
Fell where the blue flood rippled into white;
Methought from every cot the watchful bird
Crowed with ear-piercing power till then unheard;
Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams, 630
Rocked the charmed thought in more delightful dreams;
Chasing those pleasant dreams, [180] the falling leaf
Awoke a fainter sense [181] of moral grief;
The measured echo of the distant flail
Wound in more welcome cadence down the vale; 635
With more majestic course the water rolled,
And ripening foliage shone with richer gold. [182]
--But foes are gathering--Liberty must raise
Red on the hills her beacon's far-seen blaze;
Must bid the tocsin ring from tower to tower! -- 640
Nearer and nearer comes the trying hour! [183]
Rejoice, brave Land, though pride's perverted ire
Rouse hell's own aid, and wrap thy fields in fire:
Lo, from the flames a great and glorious birth;
As if a new-made heaven were hailing a new earth! [184] 645
--All cannot be: the promise is too fair
For creatures doomed to breathe terrestrial air:
Yet not for this will sober reason frown
Upon that promise, not the hope disown;
She knows that only from high aims ensue 650
Rich guerdons, and to them alone are due. [185]
Great God! by whom the strifes of men are weighed
In an impartial balance, give thine aid
To the just cause; and, oh!
