IN A CARRIAGE, UPON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.

AMID this dance of objects sadness steals
O'er the defrauded heart-while sweeping
As in a fit of Thespian jollity,
[by,
Beneath her vine-leaf crown the green
earth reels:

Backward, in rapid evanescence, wheels
The venerable pageantry of time,
Each beetling rampart-and each tower
sublime,

And what the dell unwillingly reveals
Of lurking cloistral arch, through trees
espied
[repine?
Near the bright river's edge. Yet why
Pedestrian liberty shall yet be mine
To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze:
Freedom which youth with copious hand
supplied,

May in fit measure bless my later days.

HYMN, FOR THE BOATMEN AS THEY APPROACH THE RAPIDS, UNDER THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG.

JESU! bless our slender boat,

By the current swept along;

tween France and Spain, so as physically to separate the two kingdoms-let us fancy this wall curved like a crescent. with its convexity towards France. Lastly, let us suppose, that in the very middle of the wall a breach of three hundred feet wide has been beaten down by the famous Roland, and we may have a good idea of what the mountaineers call the 'Breche de Roland. Raymond's Pyrenees.

Loud its threatenings-let them not Drown the music of a song, Breathed thy mercy to implore, Where these troubled waters roar ! Saviour, in Thy image, seen

Bleeding on that precious rood; If, while through the meadows green Gently wound the peaceful flood, We forgot Thee, do not Thou Disregard Thy suppliants now!

Hither, like yon ancient tower

Fling the shadow of Thy power, Watching o'er the river's bed,

Else we sleep among the dead; Thou who trod'st the billowy sea, Shield us in our jeopardy!

Guide our bark among the waves ;

Through the rocks our passage smooth; Where the whirlpool frets and raves

Let Thy love its anger soothe: All our hope is placed in Thee; Miserere Domine!*

* See the beautiful song in Mr. Coleridge's tragedy of " Remorse."

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 present, the contrast is most striking. The spring ap pears in a capacious stone basin upon the front of a ducal palace, with a pleasure-ground opposite; 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. Donischingen must have procured for it the The copiousness of the spring at honour of being named the source of the Danube.

TRACKS let me follow far from human kind Which these illusive greetings may not reach ;

Where only nature tunes her voice to teach
No mermaid warbles (to allay the wind
Careless pursuits, and raptures unconfined.
That drives some vessel toward a dangerous
beach)

More thrilling melodies! no caverned witch,
Chanting a love-spell, ever intertwined
Notes shrill and wild with art more musical!
Alas! that from the lips of abject want
And idleness in tatters mendicant

For silence and protection,

And haply with a finer care

Of dutiful affection.

The sun regards it from the west,
Sinking in summer glory;
And, while he sinks, affords a type
Of that pathetic story.

And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss
Amid the grove to linger;
Till all is dim, save this bright stone
Touched by his golden finger.

COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE CATHOLIC
CANTONS OF SWITZERLAND.
DOOMED as we are our native dust
To wet with many a bitter shower,
It ill befits us to disdain
The altar, to deride the fane,
Where patient sufferers bend, in trust
To win a happier hour.

I love, where spreads the village lawn,
Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze;

thral,

And with regret and useless pity haunt
This bold, this pure, this sky-born waterfall!

"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 Iservices chanted to streams and fountains in pagan times. Mr. Southey has thus accurately characterized the peculiarity of this music: "While we were at the waterfall, some half Score peasants, chiefly women and girls, assem. bled just out of reach of the spring, and set up, -surely, the wildest chorus that ever was heard by human 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
But that they sing and that they love?"
Yet, if they ever did inspire

A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir,
Now, where those harvest damsels float
Homeward in their rugged boat,
(While all the ruffling winds are fled,
Each slumbering on some mountain's head),
Now, surely, hath that gracious aid
Been felt, that influence is displayed.
Pupils of Heaven, in order stand
The rustic maidens, every hand
Upon a sister's shoulder laid, -

To chant, as glides the boat along,
A simple, but a touching, song;
To chant, as angels do above,
The melodies of peace in love!

ENGELBERG, THE HILL OF ANGELS. FOR gentlest uses, oft-times nature takes The work of fancy from her willing hands;

And such a beautiful creation makes

As renders needless spells and magic wands,

And for the boldest tale belief commands. When first mine eyes beheld that famous hill The sacred Engelberg;* celestial bands, With intermingling motions soft and still,

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.

OUR LADY OF THE SNOW.

MEEK Virgin mother, more benign
Than fairest star upon the height
Of thy own mountain set to keep
Lone vigils through the hours of sleep,
What eye can look upon thy shrine
Untroubled at the sight?

These crowded offerings as they hang
In sign of misery relieved,
Even these, without intent of theirs,
Report of comfortless despairs,
Of many a deep and cureless pang
And confidence deceived.

To thee, in this aerial cleft,

As to a common centre, tend
All sufferings that no longer rest
On mortal succour, all distrest
That pine of human hope bereft,
Nor wish for earthly friend.

And hence, O Virgin mother mild !
Though plenteous flowers around thee blow,
Not only from the dreary strife
Of winter, but the storms of life,
Thee have thy votaries aptly styled
Our Lady of the Snow.

Even for the man who stops not here,
But down the irriguous valley hies,
Thy very name, Ŏ lady! flings,
O'er blooming fields and gushing springs,
A holy shadow soft and dear
Of chastening sympathies !

Nor falls that intermingling shade
To summer gladsomeness unkind;
It chastens only to requite
With gleams of fresher, purer light;
While, o'er the flower-enamelled glade,
More sweetly breathes the wind.

+ Mount Righi

But on!-a tempting downward way,
A verdant path before us lies;
Clear shines the glorious sun above;
Then give free course to joy and love,
Deeming the evil of the day
Sufficient for the wise.

EFFUSION IN PRESENCE OF THE PAINTED

TOWER OF TELL, AT ALTORE.

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,

Nor such fine skill as did the meed bestow On Marathonian valour, yet the tear Springs forth in presence of this gaudy show, While narrow cares their limits overflow. Thrice happy, burghers, peasants, warriors old,

Infants in arms, and ye, that as ye go Home-ward or school-ward, ape what ye behold; [bold! Heroes before your time, in frolic fancy

But when that calm spectatress from on high

Looks down-the bright and solitary moon,
Who never gazes but to beautify;
And snow-fed torrents, which the blaze of

noon

Roused into fury, murmur a soft tune That fosters peace, and gentleness recalls; Then might the passing monk receive a boon [walls,

THE TOWN OF SCHWYTZ.

By antique fancy trimmed-though lowly, bred

serene

To dignity-in thee, O Schwytz! are seen
The genuine features of the golden mean;
Equality by prudence governed,
Or jealous nature ruling in her stead;
And, therefore, art thou blest with peace,
[green
As that of the sweet fields and meadows
Majestic Berne, high on her guardian steep,
In unambitious compass round thee spread,
Holding a central station of command,
Might well be styled this noble body's head;
Thou, lodged 'mid mountainous entrench-
ments deep,
Its heart; and ever may the heroic land
Thy name, O Schwytz, in happy freedom
keep !*

named

How blest the souls who when their trials

come

Yield not to terror or despondency,
But face like that sweet boy their mortal
doom,

Whose head the ruddy apple tops, while he
Expectant stands beneath the linden tree,
Not quaking like the timid forest game;
He smiles the hesitating shaft to free,
Assured that Heaven its justice will pro-
claim,
[aim.
And to his father give its own unerring

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 The of the patron saint were untouched. mount, upon the summit of which the church is built, stands amid the intricacies of the

Nearly 500 years (says Ebel, speaking of the French invasion) had elapsed, when, for the first

time, foreign soldiers were seen upon the frontiers of this smail canton, to impose upon it the laws of their governors.

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,
Guarded by lone San Salvador;
Sink (if thou must) as heretofore,
To sulphurous bolts a sacrifice,
But ne'er to human rage!

On Horeb's top, on Sinai, deigned
To rest the universal lord:
Why leap the fountains from their cells
Where everlasting bounty dwells?
That, while the creature is sustained,
His God may be adored.

Cliffs, fountains, rivers, seasons, times,
Let all remind the soul of heaven;
Our slack devotion needs them all
And faith, so oft of sense the thrall,
While she, by aid of nature, climbs,
May hope to be forgiven.

Glory, and patriotic love,

And all the pomps of this frail " spot
Which men call earth," have yearned to
Associate with the simply meek,
Religion in the sainted grove,
And in the hallowed grot.

[seek,

Thither, in times of adverse shocks,
Of fainting hopes and backward wills,
Did mighty Tell repair of old-
A hero cast in nature's mould,
Deliverer of the steadfast rocks
And of the ancient hills!

He, too, of battle-martyrs chief!
Who, to recall his daunted peers,
For victory shaped an open space,
By gathering with a wide embrace,
Into his single heart, a sheaf
Of fatal Austrian spears."

FORT FUENTES.

"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 characterized 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 stationaryscatterings from heaven. The ruin is interesting, both in mass and 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 the place of the pavement, and we could see no trace of altar or image; but everywhere 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 explo sion 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,

[stone

This sweet-visaged cherub of Parian So far from the holy inclosure was cast,

To couch in this thicket of brambles alone;

To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm [or speck; Of his half-open hand pure from blemish And the green, gilded snake, without troubling the calm [his neck.

Of the beautiful countenance, twine round