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Breathed thy mercy to implore,
Saviour, in thy image, seen
Bleeding on that precious Rood;
Hither, like yon ancient Tower
Else we sleep among the Dead;
Guide our Bark among the waves;
THE SOURCE OF THE DANUBE.
To bear in heaven a shape distinct with stars.
NEAR THE OUTLET OF THE LAKE OF THUN.
Aloys Reding, it will be remembered, was Captain General of the
Well judged the Friend who placed it there
And haply with a finer care
Of dutiful affection.
AROUND a wild and woody hilf
A gravelled pathway treading,
The Sun regards it from the West,
And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss
Till all is dim, save this bright Stone
COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE CATHOLIC
DOOMED as we are our native dust
To wet with many a bitter shower,
The Altar, to deride the Fane,
I love, where spreads the village lawn,
Where'er we roam—along the brink
ON APPROACHING THE STAUB-BACH,
TRACKS let me follow far from human-kind
posite; then, passing under the pavement, takes the form of a little, clear, bright, black, vigorous rill, barely wide enough to tempt the agility of a child five years old to leap over it,-and entering the Garden, it joins, after a course of a few hundred yards, a Stream much more considerable than itself. The copiousness of the Spring at Doneschingen must have procured for it the honour of being named the Source of the Danube.
1 The Staub-bach is a narrow Stream, which, after a long course on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, forms again a rivulet. The vocal powers of these musical Beggars may seem to be exaggerated; but this wild and savage air was utterly unlike any sounds I had ever heard; the notes reached me from a distance, and on what occasion they were sung I could not guess, only they seemed to belong, in some way or other, to the Waterfall; and reminded me of religious services chaunted to Streams and Fountains in Pagan times. Mr Southey has thus accurately characterised the peculiarity of this music: While we were at the Water
Before this quarter of the Black Forest was inhabited, the source of the Danube might have suggested some of those sublime images which Armstrong has so finely described; at prosent, the contrast is most striking. The Spring appears in a capacious stone Basia upon the front of a Ducal palace, with a pleasure-ground op
See the beautiful Song in Mr Coleridge's Tragedy The Remorse. fall, some half-score peasants, chiefly women and girls, assembled just out of reach of the Spring, and set up,-surely, the wildest Why is the Harp of Quantock silent? chorus that ever was heard by buman ears, -a song not of articulate sounds, but in which the voice was used as a mere instrument of music, more flexible than any which art could produce, sweet, powerful, and thrilling beyond description. See Notes to A Tale of Paraguay..
THE FALL OF THE AAR.-HANDEC. FROM the fierce aspect of this River throwing His giant body o'er the steep rock's brink, Back in astonishment and fear we shrink: But gradually a calmer look bestowing, Flowers we espy beside the torrent growing; Flowers that peep forth from many a cleft and chink, And, from the whirlwind of his anger drink Hues ever fresh, in rocky fortress blowing: They suck, from breath that threatening to destroy Is more benignant than the dewy eve, Beauty, and life, and motions as of joy: Nor doubt but HE to whom yon Pine-trees nod Their heads in sign of worship, Nature's God, These humbler adorations will receive.
SCENE ON THE LAKE OF BRIENTZ.
« WHAT know we of the blest above
A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir,
ENGELBERG, THE HILL OF ANGELS.
FOR gentlest uses, oft-times Nature takes
With intermingling motions soft and still,
Hung round its top, on wings that changed their liues at will.
Clouds do not name those Visitants; they were
Sung from that heavenly ground in middle air,
My ears did listen, 't was enough to gaze;
The Convent whose site was pointed out, according to tradition, in this manner, is seated at its base. The Architecture of the Building is unimpressive, but the situation is worthy of the honour which the imagination of the Mountaineers has conferred upon it.
Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
IN PRESENCE OF THE PAINTED TOWER OF TELL, AT (So fame reports) and die; his sweet-breathed kine
This Tower is said to stand upon the spot where grew the Linden Tree against which his Son was placed, when the Father's archery was put to proof under circumstances so famous in Swiss History.
WHAT though the Italian pencil wrought not here,
Springs forth in presence of this gaudy show,
Bat when that calm Spectatress from on high
How blest the souls who when their trials come
But face like that sweet Boy their mortal doom,
THE TOWN OF SCHWYTZ.
Or jealous Nature ruling in her stead;
Its HEART; and ever may the heroic Land
ON HEARING THE RANZ DES VACHES »
I LISTEN-but no faculty of mine
Nearly 500 years (says Ebel, speaking of the French Invasion) bad elapsed, when, for the first time, foreign soldiers were seen upon the frontiers of this small Canton, to impose upon it the laws of their governors.
Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked
THE CHURCH OF SAN SALVADOR, SEEN FROM THE LAKE OF LUGANO.
This Church was almost destroyed by lightning a few years ago, but the Altar and the Image of the Patron Saint were untouched. The Mount, upon the summit of which the Church is built, stands amid the intricacies of the Lake of Lugano; and is, from a hundred points of view, its principal ornament, rising to the height of 2000 feet, and, on one side, nearly perpendicular.— The ascent is toilsome; but the traveller who performs it will be amply rewarded. Splendid fertility, rich woods and dazzling waters, seclusion and confinement of view contrasted with sea-like extent of plain fading into the sky; and this again, in an opposite quarter, with an horizon of the loftiest and boldest. Alps-unite in composing a prospect more diversified by magnificence, beauty, and sublimity, than perhaps any other point in Europe, of so inconsiderable an elevation, commands.
THOU sacred Pile! whose turrets rise
From yon steep Mountain's loftiest stage,
On Horeb's top, on Sinai, deigned
Cliffs, fountains, rivers, seasons, times,
Glory, and patriotic Love,
And all the Pomps of this frail «<spot
Which men call Earth,» have yearned to seck,
Thither, in time of adverse shocks,
He, too, of battle-martyrs chief!
The Ruins of Fort Fuentes form the crest of a rocky eminence that rises from the plain at the head of the Lake of Como, commanding views up the Valteline, and toward the town of Chiavenna. The prospect in the latter direction is characterised by melancholy sublimity. We rejoiced at being favoured with a distinct view of those Alpine heights; not, as we had expected from the breaking up of the storm, steeped in celestial glory, yet in communion with clouds floating or stationary-scatterings from heaven. The Ruin is interesting both in mass and in detail. An Inscription, upon elaborately-sculptured marble lying on the ground, records that the Fort had been erected by Count Fuentes in the year 1600, during the reign of Philip the Third; and the Chapel, about twenty years after, by one of his descendants. Marble pillars of gateways are yet standing, and a considerable part of the Chapel walls: a smooth green turf has taken place of the pavement, and we could see no trace of altar or image; but every where something to remind one of former splendour, and of devastation and tumult. In our ascent we had passed abundance of wild vines intermingled with bushes: near the ruins were some, ill tended, but growing willingly; and rock, turf, and fragments of the pile, are alike covered or adorned with a variety of flowers, among which the rose-coloured pink was growing in great beauty. While descending, we discovered on the ground, apart from the path, and at a considerable distance from the ruined Chapel, a statue of a Child in pure white marble, uninjured by the explosion that had driven it so far down the hill. How little,' we exclaimed, are these things valued here! Could we but transport this pretty Image to our own garden!'-Yet it seemed it would have been a pity any one should remove it from its couch in the wilderness, which may be its own for hundreds of years.-Extract from Journal.
DREAD hour! when upheaved by war's sulphurous blast,
To couch in this thicket of brambles alone;
To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm
Of his half-open hand pure from blemish or speck; And the green, gilded snake, without troubling the calm Of the beautiful countenance, twine round his neck.
Where haply (kind service to Piety due!)
When winter the grove of its mantle bereaves, Some Bird (like our own honoured Redbreast) may strew The desolate Slumberer with moss and with leaves.
FUENTES Once harboured the Good and the Brave,
Nor to her was the dance of soft pleasure unknown; Her banners for festal enjoyment did wave While the thrill of her fifes through the mountains was blown:
Now gads the wild vine o'er the pathless Ascent-
Arnold Winkelreid, at the battle of Sempach, broke an Austrian phalanx in this manner. The event is one of the most famous in the annals of Swiss heroism; and pictures and prints of it are frequent throughout the country.
My Song, encouraged by the grace
As with a rapture caught from heaven, For unasked alms in pity given.
WITH nodding plumes, and lightly drest
On their Descendants shedding grace, This was the hour, and that the place.
But Truth inspired the Bards of old
But seemingly a Thing despised,
What liberty? if no defence
Be won for feeble Innocence
Father of All! though wilful Manhood read
Bis punishment in soul-distress,
Grant to the morn of life its natural blessedness!
THE LAST SUPPER,
BY LEONARDO DA VINCI, IN THE REFECTORY OF THE CONVENT OF MARIA DELLA GRAZIA.-MILAN.
THOUGH searching damps and many an envious flaw
The annunciation of the dreadful truth
This picture of the Last Supper has not only been grievously injured by time, but parts are said to have been painted over again. These niceties may be left to connoisseurs.-I speak of it as I felt. The copy exhibited in London some years ago, and the engraving by Morghen, are both admirable; but in the original is a power which seither of those works has attained, or even approached.
Of what it utters, while the unguilty seek
THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, 1820.
HIGH on her speculative Tower
Afloat beneath Italian skies,
Where'er was dipped the toiling oar,
At noon-tide from umbrageous walls
No vapour stretched its wings; no cloud Cast far or near a murky shroud;
The sky an azure field displayed;
'T was sunlight sheathed and gently charmed, Of all its sparkling rays disarmed, And as in slumber laid :—
Or something night and day between, Like moonshine-but the hue was green; Still moonshine, without shadow, spread On jutting rock, and curved shore, Where gazed the Peasant from his door, And on the mountain's head.
It tinged the Julian steeps-it lay,
But Fancy, with the speed of fire,
Sang with the voice, and this the argument. -MILTON.
The Statues ranged round the Spire and along the roof of the Cathedral of Milan, have been found fault with by Persons whose exclusive taste is unfortunate for themselves. It is true that the same expense and labour, judiciously directed to purposes more strictly architectural, might have much heightened the general effect of the building; for, seen from the ground, the Statues appear diminutive. But the coup d'œil, from the best point of view, which is half way up the Spire, must strike an unprejudiced Person with admiration; and surely the selection and arrangement of the Figures is exquisitely fitted to support the religion of the Country in the imaginations and feelings of the Spectator. It was with great pleasure that I saw,