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Or something night and day between,
Like moonshine- -but the hue was green;
Still moonshine, without shadow, spread
On jutting rock, and curvèd shore,
Where gazed the Peasant from his door,
And on the mountain's head.

It tinged the Julian steeps-it lay,
Lugano! on thy ample bay;
The solemnizing veil was drawn
O'er Villas, Terraces, and Towers,
To Albogasio's olive bowers,
Porlezza's verdant lawn.

But Fancy, with the speed of fire,
Hath fled to Milan's loftiest spire,
And there alights 'mid that aërial host
Of figures human and divine,
White as the snows of Apennine
Indúrated by frost.

*

Awe-stricken she beholds the array

That guards the Temple night and day;
Angels she sees that might from Heaven have flown,
And Virgin-saints—who not in vain

Have striven by purity to gain

The beatific crown;

Sees long-drawn files, concentric rings
Each narrowing above each;—the wings,
The uplifted palms, the silent marble lips,
The starry zone of sovereign height,†
All steeped in this portentous light!
All suffering dim eclipse!

*See note at the end.

+ Above the highest circle of figures is a zone of metallic stars.

Thus after Man had fallen (if aught
These perishable spheres have wrought
May with that issue be compared)
Throngs of celestial visages,
Darkening like water in the breeze,
A holy sadness shared.

Lo! while I speak, the labouring Sun
His glad deliverance has begun :
The Cypress waves her sombre plume
More cheerily; and Town and Tower,
The Vineyard and the Olive bower,
Their lustre re-assume!

O ye, who guard and grace my Home
While in far-distant Lands we roam,
What countenance hath this day put on for you?
Do clouds surcharged with irksome rain,
Blackening the Eclipse, take hill and plain
From your benighted view?

Or was it given you to behold

Like vision, pensive though not cold,

Of gay

Saw

Winandermere ?

ye the soft yet awful veil Spread over Grasmere's lovely dale, Helvellyn's brow severe ?

I ask in vain--and know far less
If sickness, sorrow, or distress

Have spared my Dwelling to this hour:
Sad blindness! but ordained to prove
Our Faith in Heaven's unfailing love
And all-controlling Power.

XXVI.

THE THREE COTTAGE GIRLS.

1.

How blest the Maid whose heart
From Love's uneasy sovereignty,
Beats with a fancy running high,
Her simple cares to magnify;
Whom Labour, never urged to toil,
Hath cherished on a healthful soil;

yet free

Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf;

Whose heaviest sin it is to look

Askance upon her pretty Self

Reflected in some crystal brook;

Whom grief hath spared — who sheds no tear

But in sweet pity; and can hear
Another's praise from envy clear.

2.

Such, (but O lavish Nature! why
That dark unfathomable eye,
Where lurks a Spirit that replies
To stillest mood of softest skies,
Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown,
Another's first, and then her own?)
Such, haply, yon ITALIAN Maid,
Our Lady's laggard Votaress,
Halting beneath the chestnut shade
To accomplish there her loveliness:
Nice aid maternal fingers lend;
A Sister serves with slacker hand;

Then, glittering like a star, she joins the festal band.

3.

How blest (if truth may entertain
Coy fancy with a bolder strain)

The HELVETIAN Girl — who daily braves,
In her light skiff, the tossing waves,
And quits the bosom of the deep
Only to climb the rugged steep!

Say whence that modulated shout?
From Wood-nymph of Diana's throng?
Or does the greeting to a rout
Of giddy Bacchanals belong?
Jubilant outcry!

rock and glade

Resounded - but the voice obeyed

The breath of an Helvetian Maid.

4.

Her beauty dazzles the thick wood;
Her courage animates the flood;
Her steps the elastic green-sward meets
Returning unreluctant sweets;

The mountains (as ye heard) rejoice
Aloud, saluted by her voice!
Blithe Paragon of Alpine grace,

Be as thou art for through thy veins
The blood of Heroes runs its race!
And nobly wilt thou brook the chains
That, for the virtuous, Life prepares;
The fetters which the Matron wears;
The Patriot Mother's weight of anxious cares!

5.

*"Sweet HIGHLAND Girl! a very shower

Of beauty was thy earthly dower,"
When thou didst flit before my eyes,
Gay Vision under sullen skies,

While Hope and Love around thee played,
Near the rough Falls of Inversneyd!
Time cannot thin thy flowing hair,
Nor take one ray of light from Thee ;
For in my Fancy thou dost share
The gift of Immortality;

And there shall bloom, with Thee allied,

The Votaress by Lugano's side;

And that intrepid Nymph, on Uri's steep, descried!

XXVII.

THE COLUMN INTENDED BY BUONAPARTE FOR A TRIUMPHAL
EDIFICE IN MILAN, NOW LYING BY THE WAY-SIDE IN THE
SIMPLON PASS.

AMBITION, following down this far-famed slope
Her Pioneer, the snow-dissolving Sun,

While clarions prate of Kingdoms to be won,
Perchance, in future ages, here may stop;
Taught to mistrust her flattering horoscope
By admonition from this prostrate Stone;
Memento uninscribed of Pride o'erthrown,
Vanity's hieroglyphic; a choice trope

In Fortune's rhetoric. Daughter of the Rock,
Rest where thy course was stayed by Power divine!
The Soul transported sees, from hint of thine,
Crimes which the great Avenger's hand provoke,
Hears combats whistling o'er the ensanguined heath:
What groans! what shrieks! what quietness in death!

* See Address to a Highland Girl, p. 206. of this Volume.

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