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LIV. Beneath these battlements, within those walls,
And he had learn'd to love,- know not why, Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state
For this in such as bim seems strange of mood, Each robber chief upheld his armed halls,
The helpless looks of blooming in fancy, Doing his evil will, por less elate
Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued, Than mightier heroes of a longer date.
To change like this, a mind so far imbued What want these outlaws to conquerors should have,
With scoru of man, it little boots to kuow; But history's purchased page to call them great ?
But thus it was; and though in solitude A wider space, an ornamented crave?
Small power the nipp'd affections have to grow, Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full in him this glow'd when all beside had ceased to glow. as brave. XLIX.
LV. In their baronial feuds and single fields,
And there was one soft breast, as hath been said, What deeds of prowess unrecorded died !
Which unto his was bound by stronger ties And love, which lent a blazon to their shields,
Than the church links withal; and, though unwed, With emblems well devised by amorous pride,
That love was pure, and, far above disguise, Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide;
Had stood the test of mortal en milies But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on
Still undivided, and cemented more Keen contest and destruction near allied,
By peril, dreaded most in female eyes; And many a tower for some fair mischief won,
But this was firm, and from a foreign shore Saw the discolour'd Rhine beneath its ruin run.
Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour:
The castled crag of Drachenfels " But thou, exulting and abounding river!
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine Making thy waves a blessing as they flow
Whose breast of waters broadly swells Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever, Between the banks which bear the vine, Could man but leave thy bright creation so,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
Whose far white walls along them shine,
And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Through green leaves lift their walls of
grey, Thy lide wash'd down the blood of yesterday,
And many a rock which steeply lowers, And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream
And noble arch, in proud decay, Glass'd with its dancing light the sunny ray,
Look o'er this vale of vintage bowers; But o'er the blackend meinory's blighting dream
But one thing want these banks of Rhine, Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem. Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!
I send the lilies given to me ; Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along,
Though, long before thy hand they touch, Yet not insensibly to all which here
I know that they must wither'd be, Awoke the jocund birds to early song
But yet reject them not as such: In glens which might bave made even exile dear : For I have cherish'd them as dear, Though on bis brow were graven lines austere,
Because they yet may meet thine eye, Apd tranquil sternuess which had ta'en the place And guide thy soul to mine even here, Of feelings fierier far but less severe,
When thou behold'st them drooping nigli, Joy was not always absent from his face,
And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine, But o'erit in such scenes would steal with transient trace. And offer'd from my heart to thine!
The river nobly foams and flows,
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauty varying round ; On such as smile upon us; the heart must
The laughtiest breast its wish might bound
Through life to dwell delighted here;
To nature and to me so dear,
LXII. By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,
But these recede. Above me are the Alps, There is a small and simple pyramid,
The palaces of nature, whose vast walls Crowning the summit of the verdant mound; Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid,
And throned eternity in icy halls Our enemy's, - but let not that forbid
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls Honour to Marceau! o'er whose early tomb
The avalanche-the thunderbolt of snow! Tears, big tears, gush'd from the rough soldier's lid, All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Lamenting and yet envying such a doom,
Gather around these sumınits, as to show Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume. llow earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man
LXIII. Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career,
But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan, His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes; There is a spot should not be pass'd in vain, And fitly may the stranger lingering here
Morat! the proud, the patriol field! where man Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose;
May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain, For he was Freedom's champion,-one of those,
Nor blush for those who conquer'd on that plain ; The few in number, who had not o'erstept
Here Burgundy bequeath'd his tombless host, The charter to chastise which she bestows
A bony heap, through ages to remain, On such as wield her weapons: he had kept
Themselves their monument;-the Stygian coast
Morat and Marathon twin names shall stand;
Won by the unambitious heart and hand A tower of victory! from whence the flight
Of a proud, brotherly, and civic band, Of baffled foes was watchid along the plain:
All unbought champions in no princely cause
And laid those proud roofs bare to summer's rain- Doom'd to bewail the blasphemy of laws
Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere,
gray and grief-worn aspect of old days;
When the coeval pride of human bands,
LXVI. Adiea to thee again! a vain adieu !
And there-oh! sweet and sacred be the name!There can be no farewell to scene like thine ; Julia—the daughter, the devoted-gave The mind is colourd by thy every hue ;
Her youth to Heaven; her heart, beneath a claim And if reluctantly the eyes resign
Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave. Their cherish'd gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!
Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave T is with the thankful glance of parting praise;
The life she lived in ; but the judge was just, More mighty spots may rise - more glaring shinc, And then she died on him she could not save. But none unite in one attaching maze
Their tomb was simple, and without a bust, The brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days. And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one
LXVII. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom
But these are deeds which should not pass away, Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen,
And names that must not wither, though the earth The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom,
Forgets her empires with a just decay, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between, The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and birth; The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been The high, the mountain-majesty of worth la mockery of man's art; and these withal
Should be, and shall, survivor of its woe, A race of faces happy as the scene,
And from its immortality look forth Whose fertile bounties here extend to all,
In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow,"7 Still springing o'er thy banks, though empires near Imperishably pure beyond all things below.
And when, at length, the mind shall be all free
Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be
And dust is as it should be, shall I not But soon in me shall loneliness renew
Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm? Thoughts hid, but not less cherish'd than of old, The bodiless thought? the spirit of each spot, Ere mingling with the herd had penn'd me in their fold. Of which, even now, I share at times the immortal lot?
LXXV. To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind ;
Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part All are not fit with them to stir and toil,
Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Nor is it discontent to keep the mind
Is not the love of these deep in my heart Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil
With a pure passion ? should I not contemn In the hot throng, where we become the spoil
All objects, if compared with these ? and stem Of our infection, till too late and long
A tide of suffering, rather than forego We may deplore and struggle with the coil,
Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm la wretched interchange of wrong for wrong,
Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, 'Midst a cootentious world, striving where none are Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not strong.
To that which is immediate, and require
Those who find contemplation in the urn, And colour things to come with hues of night; To look on One, whose dust was once all fire, The race of life becomes a hopeless flight
A native of the land where I respire To those that walk in darkness : on the sea,
The clear air for a while—a passing guest, The boldest steer but where their ports invite, Where he became a being,— whose desire But there are wanderers o'er eternity,
Was to be glorious ; 't was a foolish quest, Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be. The which to gain and keep, he sacrificed all rest.
LXXVII. Is it not better, then, to be alone,
Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau, And love earth only for its earthly sake?
The apostle of affliction, he who threw By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone, 18
Enchantment over passion, and from woe Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake,
Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew Which feeds it as a mother who doth make
The breath which made him wretched: yet he knew A fair but froward infant her own care,
How to make madness beautiful, and cast Kissing its cries away as these awake;
O'er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue Is it not better thus our lives to wear,
Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they past Than join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict or bear? The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast.
And with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain
In him existence, and o'ertlowing teems
LXXIX. And thus I am absorb'd, and this is life:
This breathed itself to life in Julie, this I look upon the peopled desert past
Invested her with all that 's wild and swect; As on a place of agony and strife,
This hallow'd, too, the memorable kiss Where, for some sin, to sorrow I was cast,
Which every morn his fever'd lip would greet, To act and suffer, but remount at last
From hers, who but with friendship his would meet; With a fresh pinion ; which I feel to spring,
But to that gentle touch, through brain and breast Though young, yet waxing vigorous as the blast Flash'd the thrilled spirit's love-devouring heat;
Which it would cope with, on delighted wing, In that absorbing sigh perchance more blest, Spurning the clay-cold bonds which round our being Than vulgar minds may be with all they seek possest.'9
Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Had grown suspicion's sanctuary, and chose
Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen, For its owa cruel sacrifice, the kind,
Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear "Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind. Precipitously sleep; and, drawing near, But he was phrenzied, - wherefore, who may know? There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Since cause might be which skill could never find; Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear But he was phrenzied by disease or woe,
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,
His life an infancy, and sings his fill;
At intervals, some bird from out the brakes
There seems a floating whisper on the hill;
But that is fancy, for the starlight dews Broken and trembling, to the yoke she bore,
All silently their tears of love instil,
Weeping themselves away, till they ipfuse
That in our aspirations to be great, Lut good with ill they also overthrew,
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, Leaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild
And claim a kindred with you; for ye aré ['pon the same foundation, and renew
A beauty and a mystery, and create Duogeous and thrones, which the same hour re-fill'd, In us such love and reverence from afar, As heretofore, because ambition was self-willid. That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves
LXXXIX. Bat this will not endure, nor be endured!
All heaven and earth are still-though not in slecp, Mankind have felt their strength, and made it felt. But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; They might have used it better, but, allured
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep By their new vigour, slernly have they dealt
All heaven and earth are still: from the high host On one another; pity ceased to melt
Of stars, to the Jull'd lake and mountain-coast, With ber opce natural charities. But they,
All is concenter'd in a life intense,
They were not eagles, nourish'd with the day; But hath a part of being, and a sense
It came, it cometh, and will come,—the power
Binding all things with beauty ;-'t would disarm
XCT. Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,
Not vainly did the early Persian make With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing
His altar the higla places and the peak Which waros me, with its stillness, to forsake Of earth-o'ergazing mountains,and thus take Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
A fit and unwalld temple, there to seek This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
The spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak, To waft me from distraction : once I loved
Upreard of human hands. Come, and comparc Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring
Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved,
With nature's realms of worship, earth and air, That I with stere delights should e'er have been so moved. Nor fix on fond abodes to cireumscribe thry prayer!
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
And food for meditation, nor pass by
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,
In them a refuge from the worldly shocks,
His soft and summer breath, whose tender power
Itself expired, but leaving them an age
make their play, Of torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Which slope his green path dowoward to the shore, Flashing and cast around : of all the band,
Where the bow'd waters meet himn and adore, The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd Kissing his feet with murmurs; and the wood, His lightnings, -as if he did understand,
The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar, That in such gaps as desolation worka,
But light leaves, young as joy, stands where it stood, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd. Offering to him, and his, a populous solitude.
Are ye like those within the human breast?
The swiftest thought of beauty, bere extend,
But as it is, I live and die unheard,
Into a boundless blessing, wbich may vie