Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820/Desultory Stanzas
DESULTORY STANZAS.
DESULTORY STANZAS
UPON RECEIVING THE PRECEDING SHEETS FROM THE PRESS.
I.Is then the final page before me spread,Nor further outlet left to mind or heart?Presumptuous Book! too forward to be read—How can I give thee licence to depart?One tribute more;—unbidden feelings startForth from their coverts—slighted objects rise—My Spirit is the scene of such wild artAs on Parnassus rules, when lightning flies,Visibly leading on the thunder's harmonics.
II.All that I saw returns upon my view,All that I heard comes back upon my car,All that I felt this moment doth renew;And where the foot with no unmanly fearRecoil'd—and wings alone could travel—there1 move at case, and meet contending themesThat press upon me, crossing the careerOf recollections vivid as the dreamsOf midnight,—cities—plains—forests—and mighty streams!
III.Where mortal never breathed I dare to sitAmong the interior Alps, gigantic crew,Who triumphed o'er diluvian power!—and yetWhat are they but a wreck and residue,Whose only business is to perish?—trueTo which sad course, these wrinkled Sons of TimeLabour their proper greatness to subdue; Speaking of death alone, beneath a climeWhere life and rapture flow in plenitude sublime.
IV.Fancy hath flung for me an airy bridgeAcross thy long deep Valley, furious Rhone!Arch that here rests upon the granite ridgeOf Monte Rosa—there, on frailer stoneOf secondary birth—the Jung-frau's cone;And, from that arch down-looking on the Vale,The aspect I behold of every zone;A sea of foliage tossing with the gale,Blithe Autumn's purple crown, and Winter's icy mail!
V.Far as St. Maurice, from yon eastern Forks[1],Down the main avenue my sight can range: And all its branchy vales, and all that lurksWithin them, church, and town, and hut, and grange,For my enjoyment meet in vision strange;Snows—torrents;—to the region's utmost bound,Life, Death, in amicable interchange—But list! the avalanche—heart-striking sound!Tumult by prompt repose and awful silence crown'd!
VI.Is not the Chamois suited to his place?The Eagle worthy of her ancestry?—Let Empires fall; but ne'er shall Ye disgraceYour noble birthright, Ye that occupyYour Council-seats beneath the open sky,On Sarnen's Mount1, there judge of fit and right,In simple democratic majesty;Soft breezes fanning your rough brows—the mightAnd purity of nature spread before your sight!
VII.From this appropriate Court, renown'd LucerneLeads me to pace her honoured Bridge2—that cheersThe Patriot's heart with Pictures rude and stern,An uncouth Chronicle of glorious years.Like portraiture, from loftier source, endearsThat work of kindred frame, which spans the LakeJust at the point of issue, where it fearsThe form and motion of a Stream to take;Where it begins to stir, Yet voiceless as a Snake.
VIII.Volumes of sound, from the Cathedral roll'd,This long-roofed Vista penetrate—but see,One after one, its Tablets, that unfoldThe whole design of Scripture history;From the first tasting of the fatal Tree,Till the bright Star appeared in eastern skies,Announcing One was born Mankind to free;His acts, his wrongs, his final sacrifice;Lessons for every heart, a Bible for all eyes.
IX.Our pride misleads, our timid likings kill.—Long may these homely Works devised of old,These simple Efforts of Helvetian skill,Aid, with congenial influence, to upholdThe State,—the Country's destiny to mould;Turning, for them who pass, the common dustOf servile opportunity to gold;Filling the soul with sentiments august—The beautiful, the brave, the holy, and the just!
X.And those surrounding Mountains—but no more;Time creepeth softly as the liquid flood;Life slips from underneath us, like the floorOf that wide rainbow-arch whereon we stood,Earth stretched below, Heaven in our neighbourhood.Go forth, my little Book! pursue thy way;Go forth, and please the gentle and the good;Nor be a whisper stifled, if it sayThat treasures, yet untouched, may grace some future Lay.
- ↑ Les Fourches, the point at which the two chains of mountains part, that enclose the Valais, which terminates at St. Maurice.