I see her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed, Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry, 260 And fireless are the valleys far and wide, Where the brook brawls along the public road Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad, Oft has she taught them on her lap to lay The shining glow-worm; or, in heedless play, Like Una shining on her gloomy way, 265 The half-seen form of Twilight roams Toss it from hand to hand, disquieted; While others, not unseen, are free to shed Green unmolested light upon their mossy bed. No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; bright Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light. Weak roof a cowering form two babes to No favoured eye was e'er allowed to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears 275 Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its gaze 300 On lovelier spectacle in faery days; When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chase, Brushing with lucid wands the water's face: steeps. --Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel A sympathetic twilight slowly steal, 315 The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the mind. while Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, On darling spots remote her tempting stay! smile. Even now she decks for me a distant scene, 345 (For dark and broad the gulf of time between) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray. (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear! How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!) 350 Where we, my Friend, to happy days shall rise, Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs (For sighs will ever trouble human breath) Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death. But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains, 355 Above yon eastern hill, where darkness And, rimy without speck, extend the broods 331 plains: O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and The deepest cleft the mountain's front woods; displays Scarce hides a shadow from her searching And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Some other loiterers beguiling. rays; From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; 360 Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes Such views the youthful Bard allure; A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by And what if he must die in sorrow! Who would not cherish dreams so sweet, Of charcoal-smoke, that, o'er the fallen Though grief and pain may come towood, Steal down the hill, and spread along the Now hardly heard, beguiles my home- Air listens, like the sleeping water, still, 370 The echoed hoof nearing the distant shore, morrow? V. REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS, COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR [Composed 1789.-Published 1798.] The boat's first motion-made with dash- Till all our minds for ever flow As thy deep waters now are flowing. 16 Vain thought!-Yet be as now thou art, Now let us, as we float along, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 1 Collins' Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, I believe, of the poems which were published during his life-time. This Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza. VI. DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES1 TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS. [Composed 1791-92.-Published 1793.] ΤΟ 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 our having been companions among 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 postchaise 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 that I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must cer tainly 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 1 The original (1793) text of this Poem will be found in the Appendix, pp. 601-617. It differs in many important particulars from the finally revised text here given.-ED. Happiness (if she had been to be found on earth among the charms of Nature-Pleasures of th pedestrian Traveller-Author crosses Franc to the Alps-Present state of the Grand Chartreuse-Lake of Como-Time, SunsetSame Scene, Twilight-Same Scene, Morning its voluptuous Character; Old man and forest cottage music-River Tusa-Via Mala and Grison Gipsy-Sckellenen-thal-Lake of UriStormy sunset-Chapel of William Tell-Forc of local emotion-Chamois-chaser-View of the higher Alps-Manner of life of a Swiss moun taineer, interspersed with views of the highe Alps-Golden age of the Alps-Life and view continued-Ranz des Vaches, famous Swis Air-Abbey of Einsiedlen and its pilgrimsValley of Chamouny-Mont Blanc-Slavery o Savoy-Influence of liberty on cottage-happi ness-France-Wish for the Extirpation o slavery-Conclusion. WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground Where from distress a refuge might b found, And solitude prepare the soul for heaven Sure, nature's God that spot to man ha given Where falls the purple morning far and wide In flakes of light upon the mountain-side Where with loud voice the power of wate No gains too cheaply earned his fancy cloy, 15 Though every passing zephyr whispers joy; Brisk toil, alternating with ready ease, Feeds the clear current of his sympathies. O'er Gallia's wastes of corn my footsteps led; 45 Her files of road-elms, high above my head In long-drawn vista, rustling in the breeze; For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn; Or where her pathways straggle as they And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn! 20 Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head, And dear the velvet green-sward to his tread: Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye? Upward he looks-"and calls it luxury:" please By lonely farms and secret villages. 50 Toy with the sun and glitter from afar. And now, emerging from the forest's gloom, Kind Nature's charities his steps at- I greet thee, Chartreuse, while I mourn tend; 25 In every babbling brook he finds a friend; By wisdom, moralise his pensive road. To his spare meal he calls the passing thy doom. Whither is fled that Power whose frown severe Awed sober Reason till she crouched in fear? 55 That Silence, once in deathlike fetters bound, Chains that were loosened only by the |