In the brown park, in herds, the troubled deer On withered briars that o'er the crags recline, Half gray, half shagged with ivy to its ridge; 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; A more benignant sacrifice approve; Of happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired, Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, Entire affection for all human kind. - Sweet rill, farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace Travel along the precipice's base; Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone, By lichens gray, and scanty moss, o'ergrown; Where scarce the fox-glove peeps, or thistle's beard: And desert stone-chat, all day long, is heard. *The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain inclosure. + Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country: Glen, ghyll, and dingle, have the same meaning. The reader who has made the tour of this country will recognise, in this description, the features which characterise the lower waterfall in the grounds of Rydale. How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape changed in form and hue! Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood; There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed, Come forth, and here retire in purple shade; Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white, Soften their glare before the mellow light; The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide, Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam, Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream: Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire, Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire. Into a gradual calm the zephyrs sink, A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink: Their panniered train a group of potters goad, Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Sweetly ferociousT, round his native walks, "Vivid rings of green."-GREENWOOD's Poem on Shooting. "Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings."— BEATTIE. "Dolcemente feroce."-TAsso. In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in l'Agriculture, ou Les Georgiques Françoises, of M. Rossuet. Spar-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread; Bright sparks his black and haggard eye-ball hurls Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro, While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings! Brightening the cliffs between, where sombrous pine And yew-trees o'er the silver rocks recline; I love to mark the quarry's moving trains, Anon, in order mounts a gorgeous show Of horsemen shadows winding to and fro; At intervals imperial banners stream, And now the van reflects the solar beam, The rear through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam; Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains; How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray How busy the enormous hive within, While Echo dallies with the various din! Sore (hardly heard their chisels' clinking sound) Hang o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire, In these secluded vales, if village fame, "From Thomson See Scott's Critical Essays. Where winds the road along a secret bay; And, glorying, looks around the silent tides; Long may ye float upon these floods serene; + See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clarke's Survey of the Lakes, accompanied by vouchers of its veracity. that may amuse the reader. 1 Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, I see her now, denied to lay her head, I hear, while in the forest depth, he sees Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail, Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar, Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of the night; 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, And round the West's proud lodge their shadows throw, Like Una shining on her gloomy way, Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread See, o'er the eastern hill, where darkness broods O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods; Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace, She lifts in silence up her lovely face: Above the gloomy valley flings her light, Far to the western slopes with hamlets white And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew, To the green corn of summer autumn's hue. Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the Moon's own morn; Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; -Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile. -Even now she decks for me a distant scene, (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; Iker fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear! sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear! Where we, my Friend, to happy days shall rise, Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs F: sighs will ever trouble human breath) Cep bushed into the tranquil breast of Death. But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains, And my without speck extend the plains; The deepest dell the mountain's front displays Searce hides a shadow from her searching rays; From the dark-blue "faint silvery threads" divide The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; The scene is wakened, yet its peace unbroke, By silvery wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke, That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood, Steal down the hills, and spread along the flood. The song of mountain streams, unheard by day, Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward way. Air listens, as the sleeping water still, To catch the spiritual music of the hill, Enke only by the slow clock tolling deep, Or shout that wakes the ferry-man from sleep, Soca followed by his hollow-parting oar, Aat echoed hoof approaching the far shore; Scend of closed gate, across the water borne, Horrying the feeding hare through rustling corn; The tremulous sob of the complaining owl: And at long intervals the mill-dog's howl; The distant forge's swinging thump profound; yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound. 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. DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES, TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS. TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES, FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 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 London, 1793. treuse I am, dear Sir, W. WORDSWORTH. 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 Grande Char-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 Gipsy-Sckellenen-thal - 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· - Ranz des Vaches, famous Swiss Air-Abbey of Einsiedlen and its Pilgrims Mont Blanc · Valley of Chamouny Slavery of Savoy-Influence of Liberty on Cottage Happiness-France-Wish for the Extirpation of Slavery - Conclusion. DEAR SIR, HOWEVER desirous I might have been of giving you s of the high place you hold in my esteem, I 5. l have been cautious of wounding your delicacy thas publicly addressing you, had not the circume of my having accompanied you among the Alps, d to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to ay any scruples which your modesty might other we have suggested. WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground heart. You know well how great is the difference be- And solitude prepare the soul for heaven; In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my Where from distress a refuge might be found, ween two companions lolling in a post-chaise, and two Sure, Nature's God that spot to man had given travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, Where falls the purple morning far and wide each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his In flakes of light upon the mountain side; shoulders. How much more of heart between the two Where with loud voice the power of water shakes latter! The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes. Yet not unrecompensed the man shall roam, Who at the call of summer quits his home, That thundering tube the aged angler hears, And swells the groaning torrent with his tears; And plods through some far realm o'er vale and height, From Bruno's forest screams the affrighted jay, At least, not owning to himself an aim To which the Sage would give a prouder name. And slow the insulted eagle wheels away. More pleased, my foot the hidden margin roves While chastening thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed To ringing team unknown and grating wain, 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 uplift his golden fire, Or sink, with heart alive like Memnon's lyre ;* Blesses the Moon that comes with kindly ray, To light him shaken by his rugged 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, lured by hope its sorrows to remove, A heart that could not much itself approve O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led, Her road elms rustling high above my head, Or through her truant pathways' native charms, By secret villages and lonely farms, To where the Alps ascending white in air, Toy with the sun, and glitter from afar. Even now, emerging from the forest's gloom, I heave a sigh at hoary Chartreuse' doom. Where now is fled that Power whose frown severe Tamed "sober Reason" till she crouched in fear? 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 lyre of Memnon is reported to have emitted melancholy or cheerful tones, as it was touched by the sun's evening or morning rays. To flat-roofed towns, that touch the water's bound, How blessed, delicious scene! the eye that greets Thy open beauties, or thy lone retreats; The unwearied sweep of wood thy cliff that scales: The never-ending waters of thy vales; The cots, those dim religious groves embower, Or, under rocks that from the water tower, Insinuated, sprinkling all the shore; Each with his household boat beside the door, + Alluding to crosses seen on the tops of the spiry rocks of Chartreuse, which have every appearance of being inacces sible. Names of Rivers at the Chartreuse. Name of one of the valleys of the Chartreuse |