The glimmering fires of Virtue to enlarge,
And purge from Vice's dross my tender charge.
Oft have I said, the paths of Fame pursue,
And all that Virtue dictates, dare to do;
Go to the world, peruse the book of man,
And learn from thence thy own defects to scan;
Severely honest, break no plighted trust,
But coldly rest not here-be more than just ;
Join to the rigours of the sires of Rome
The gentler manners of the private dome;
When Virtue weeps in agony of woe,
Teach from the heart the tender tear to flow;
If Pleasure's soothing song thy soul entice,
Or all the gaudy pomp of splendid Vice,
Arise superior to the Siren's power,
The wretch, the short-lived vision of an hour;
Soon fades her cheek, her blushing beauties fly,
As fades the chequer'd bow that paints the sky,

So shall thy sire, whilst hope his breast inspires,
And wakes anew life's glimmering trembling fires,
Hear Briton's sons rehearse thy praise with joy,
Look up to heaven, and bless his darling boy.
If e'er these precepts quell'd the passions' strife,
If e'er they smooth'd the rugged walks of life,
If e'er they pointed forth the blissful way
That guides the spirit to eternal day,
Do thou, if gratitude inspire thy breast,
Spurn the soft fetters of lethargic rest.

Awake, awake! and snatch the slumbering lyre,
Let this bright morn and Sandys the song inspire.'

"I look'd obedience: the celestial Fair
Smiled like the morn, and vanished into air."

Translated from some French stanzas by Francis Wrangham, and Printed in "Poems by Francis Wrangham, M.A., Member of Trinity College, Cambridge, London (1795), Sold by J. Mawman, 22 Poultry," pp. 106-111. The original French lines are printed side by side with Wordsworth's translation, which closes the volume.—ED.

WHEN Love was born of heavenly line,

What dire intrigues disturb'd Cythera's joy!
Till Venus cried, "A mother's heart is mine;
None but myself shall nurse my boy."

But, infant as he was, the child

In that divine embrace enchanted lay; And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled, Forgot the beverage-and pined away.

"And must my offspring languish in my sight?" (Alive to all a mother's pain,

The Queen of Beauty thus her court address'd) "No: Let the most discreet of all my train Receive him to her breast:

Think all, he is the God of young delight."

Then TENDERNESS with CANDOUR join'd,
And GAIETY the charming office sought;
Nor even DELICACY stay'd behind :

But none of those fair Graces brought
Wherewith to nurse the child-and still he pined.
Some fond hearts to COMPLIANCE seem'd inclined;
But she had surely spoil'd the boy :

And sad experience forbade a thought On the wild Goddess of VOLUPTUOUS JOY.

Long undecided lay th' important choice,
Till of the beauteous court, at length, a voice
Pronounced the name of HOPE:-The conscious child
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled.

"Tis said ENJOYMENT (who averr'd
The charge belong'd to her alone)
Jealous that HOPE had been preferr'd
Laid snares to make the babe her own.

Of INNOCENCE the garb she took,

The blushing mien and downcast look ;
And came her services to proffer:
And HOPE (what has not Hope believed !)
By that seducing air deceived,
Accepted of the offer.

It happen'd that, to sleep inclined,
Deluded HOPE for one short hour
To that false INNOCENCE's power
Her little charge consign'd.

The Goddess then her lap with sweetmeats fill'd

And gave, in handfuls gave, the treacherous store :

A wild delirium first the infant thrill'd;

But soon upon her breast he sunk—to wake no more.

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES.

Comp. 1791-2.

Pub. 1793.

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES, IN VERSE, TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR
IN THE ITALIAN, GRISON, SWISS, AND SAVOYARD ALPS, BY W.
WORDSWORTH, B.A., OF ST JOHN'S, CAMBRIDGE. "LOCA PASTORUM
"CASTELLA IN TUMULIS-ET
DESERTA ATQUE OTIA DIA."—Lucret.

LONGE SALTUS LATEQUE VACANTES."- Virgil. LONDON: PRINTED
FOR J. JOHNSTON, ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, 1793.

TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES, FELLOW OF ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

DEAR SIR, However desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circumstance of my having accompanied you amongst the Alps, seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested.

In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a post chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter !

I am happy in being conscious I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must certainly interest, in reminding you of moments to which you can hardly look back without a pleasure not the less dear from a shade of melancholy. You will meet with few images without recollecting the spot where we observed them together, consequently, whatever is feeble in my design, or spiritless in my colouring, will be amply supplied by your own memory. With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a description of some of the features of your native mountains, through which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much pleasure. But the sea-sunsets which give such splendour to the vale of Clwyd, Snowdon, the chair of Idris, the quiet village of Bethgelert, Menai and her druids, the Alpine steeps of the Conway, and the still more interesting windings of the wizard stream of the Dee. remain yet untouched. Apprehensive that my pencil may never be exercised on these subjects, I cannot let slip this opportunity of thus publicly assuring you with how much affection and esteem. I am, Dear Sir, Your most obedient very humble Servant, W. WORDSWORTH.

ARGUMENT.

Happiness (if she had been to be found on Earth) amongst the Charms of Nature— Pleasures of the Pedestrian Traveller-Author crosses France to the Alps-Present state of the Grand Chartreuse-Lake of Como-Time, Sunset-Same Scene, Twilight— Same Scene, Morning, its Voluptuous Character; Old Man and Forest Cottage Music -River Tusa-Via Mala and Grison Gypsey-Valley of Sckellenenthal-Lake of Uri-Stormy Sunset-Chapel of William Tell-Force of Local Emotion-Chamois Chaser-View of the Higher Alps-Manner of Life of a Swiss Mountaineer, interspersed with views of the higher Alps-Golden Age of the Alps—Life and views continued— Kanz des Vaches, famous Swiss Air-Abbey of Einsiedlen and its Pilgrims – Valley of Chamouny-Mont Blanc-Slavery of Savoy-Influence of Liberty on Cottage Happiness-France-Wish for the Extirpation of Slavery—Conclusion.

WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground,
By Pain and her sad family unfound,

Sure, Nature's God that spot to man had giv'n,
Where murmuring rivers join the song of ev'n;
Where falls the purple morning far and wide
In flakes of light upon the mountain-side;
Where summer Suns in ocean sink to rest,
Or moonlight Upland lifts her hoary breast;
Where Silence, on her night of wing, o'er-broods
Unfathom'd dells and undiscover'd woods;

Where rocks and groves the power of waters shakes
In cataracts, or sleeps in quiet lakes.

But doubly pitying Nature loves to show'r
Soft on his wounded heart her healing pow'r,
Who plods o'er hills and vales his road forlorn,
Wooing her varying charms from eve to morn.
No sad vacuities his heart annoy,

Blows not a Zephyr but it whispers joy;

For him lost flowers their idle sweets exhale ;
He tastes the meanest note that swells the gale ;
For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn,
And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn !
Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head,
And dear the green-sward to his velvet tread ;
Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye?
Upward he looks—and calls it luxury ;
Kind Nature's charities his steps attend,
In every babbling brook he finds a friend,

While chast'ning thoughts of sweetest use, bestow'd

By Wisdom, moralize his pensive road.

Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bower,

To his spare meal he calls the passing poor;

He views the Sun uprear his golden fire,

Or sink, with heart alive like * Memnon's lyre;

*The lyre of Memnon is reported to have emitted melancholy or cheerful tones, as it was touched by the Sun's evening or morning rays.

Blesses the Moon that comes with kindest ray
To light him shaken by his viewless way.
With bashful fear no cottage children steal
From him, a brother at the cottage meal,
His humble looks no shy restraint impart,
Around him plays at will the virgin heart.
While unsuspended wheels the village dance,
The maidens eye him with enquiring glance,
Much wondering what sad stroke of crazing Care
Or desperate Love could lead a wanderer there.
Me, lur'd by hope her sorrows to remove,
A heart, that could not much itself approve,
O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led,

* Her road elms rustling thin above my head,
Or through her truant pathway's native charms,
By secret villages and lonely farms,

To where the Alps, ascending white in air,
Joy with the Sun, and glitter from afar.

Even now I sigh at hoary Chartreuse' doom,
Weeping beneath his chill of mountain gloom.
Where now is fled that Power whose frown severe
Tamed "sober Reason" till she crouched in fear?
That breathed a death-like peace these woods around,
Broke only by th' unvaried torrents sound,
Or prayer-bell by the dull cicada drowned.
The cloister startles at the gleam of arms,

And Blasphemy the shuddering fane alarms;
Nod the cloud-piercing pines their troubled heads,
Spires, rocks, and lawns, a browner night o'erspreads.
Strong terror checks the female peasant's sighs,
And start the astonished shades at female eyes.
The thundering tube the aged angler hears,
And swells the groaning torrent with his tears.
From Bruno's forest screams the frighted jay,
And slow the insulted eagle wheels away.
The cross with hideous laughter Demons mock,
By angels planted on the aërial Rock.
The "parting Genius" sighs with hollow breath
Along the mystic streams ‡ of Life and Death,
Swelling the outcry dull, that long resounds

Portentous, thro' her old woods' trackless bounds,

There are few people whom it may be necessary to inform, that the sides of many of the post-roads in France are planted with a row of trees. + Alluding to crosses seen on the tops of the spiry Rocks of the Chartreuse, which have every appearance of being inaccessible. Names of rivers at the Chartreuse.