"The Alpine Muse her iciest tears shall shed, And 'build a stone-man' o'er your honour'd head, Chamois and bouquetins the spot shall haunt, With eagles, choughs, and lammergeyers gaunt; The mountain marmots, marching o'er the snow, Their yearly pilgrimage shall ne'er forego; Tyndall himself, in grand, prophetic tones, Shall calculate the movement of your bones; And your renown shall live serene, eternal, Embalmed in pages of the Alpine Journal!"

By reasoning such as this, year after year, I overcome my men's unreasoning fear: Twice has my guide by falling stones been struck, Yet still I trust his science and my luck.

A falling stone once cut my rope in twain; We stopped to mend it, and marched on again.

Once a big boulder, with a sudden whack, Severed my knapsack from my porter's back.

Twice on a sliding avalanche I've slid, While my companions in its depths were hid.

Daring all dangers, no disaster fearing, I carry out my plan of mountaineering.

Thus have I conquered glacier, peak, and pa.s.s, Aiguilles du Midi, Cols des Grandes Jora.s.ses.

Thus shall I onward march from peak to peak, Till there are no new conquests left to seek.

O the wild joy, the unutterable bliss To hear the coming avalanche's hiss!

Or place oneself in acrobatic pose, While mountain missiles graze one's sun-burnt nose!

And if some future season I be doom'd To be by boulders crushed, or snow entombed, Still let me upward urge my mad career, And risk my limbs and life for honour dear!

Sublimely acquiescent in my lot, I'll die a martyr for--I know not what!

(1876)

[1] Written in 1876.

THE CLIMBER'S DREAM.

I made an ascent of the Eiger Last year, which has ne'er been surpa.s.sed; 'Twas dangerous, long, and laborious, But almost incredibly fast.

We started at twelve from the Faulberg; Ascended the Monch by the way; And were well at the base of our mountain, As the peak caught the dawn of the day.

In front of me Almer and Perren Cut steps, each as big as a bucket; While behind me there followed, as Herren, George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett.

We got to the top without trouble; There halted, of course, for the view; When clouds, sailing fast from the southward, Veiled over the vault of dark blue.

The lightning shone playfully round us; The thunder ferociously growled; The hail beat upon us in bullets; And the wind everlastingly howled.

We turned to descend to the Scheideck, Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran, In our panic and hurry, forgetting To add a new stone to the _man_.

Palinurus himself--that is Almer-- No longer could make out the track; 'Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward; 'Twas madness, of course, to go back.

The snow slope grew steeper and steeper; The lightning more vividly flared; The thunder rolled deeper and deeper; And the wind more offensively blared.

But at last a strong gust for a moment Dispersed the thick cloud from our sight, And revealed an astonishing prospect, Which filled not our hearts with delight: On our right was a precipice awful; On the left chasms yawning and deep; Glazed rocks and snow-slopes were before us, At an angle alarmingly steep.

We all turned and looked back at Almer.

Who then was the last on the rope; His face for a moment was clouded, Then beamed with the dawn of a hope; He came to the front, and thence forward In wonderful fashion he led, Over rocks, over snow-slopes glissading, While he stood, bolt upright on his head!

We followed, in similar fashion; Hurrah, what a moment is this!

What a moment of exquisite transport!

A realization of bliss!

To glissade is a pleasant sensation, Of which all have written, or read; But to taste it, _in perfect perfection_, You should learn to glissade _on your head_.

Hurrah! with a wild scream of triumph, Over snow, over boulders we fly, Our heads firmly pressed to the surface, Our heels pointing up to the sky!

We bound o'er the bergschrund uninjured, We shoot o'er a precipice sheer; Hurrah, for the modern glissader!

Hurrah, for the wild mountaineer!

But, alas! what is this? what a shaking!

What a jar! what a b.u.mp! what a thump!

Out of bed, in intense consternation, I bound with a hop, skip, and jump.

For I hear the sweet voice of a "person"

Of whom I with justice am proud, "_My dear, when you dream about mountains, I wish you'd not jodel so loud!_"

THE BEACONSFIELD ALPHABET.

A's my new policy called Annexation; B is the Bother it causes the nation.

C is Lord Chelmsford, engaged with Zulus; D the Disasters which give me 'the blues.'

E is the Effort I make to look merry; F is my Failure--deplorable very!

G is Sir Garnett, alas, not ubiquitous!

H stands for H----t, an M.P. iniquitous.

I stands for India, a source of vexation: J are the Jews, a most excellent nation.

K is the Khedive, whose plan is to borrow L _L. s. d._--I'll annex him to-morrow!

M's the Majority, which I much prize; N are the Non-contents whom I despise.

O's the Opposition, so often defeated; P is P----ll, that Home-ruler conceited.

Q are the Questions put by n.o.ble Lords; R my Responses, more cutting than swords.

S is the Sultan, my friend true and warm; T are the Turks, whom I hope to reform.

U's my Utopia--Cyprus, I mean: V is Victoria, my Empress and Queen.

W's the World, which ere long I shall own; X is the sign of my power unknown.

Y is the Yacht I shall keep in the Red Sea: Z the Zulus, whom I wish in the Dead Sea.

(1879).

THE GLADSTONE ALPHABET.

A's Aristides, or Gladstone the Good; B is Lord B., whom I'd crush if I could.

C are Conservatives, full of mad pranks; D are the Dunces who fill up their ranks.

E stands for Ewelme, of some notoriety; F for the Fuss made in Oxford society.

G stands for Gladstone, a hewer of wood; H is my Hatchet of merciless mood.

I is the Irish Church which I cut down: J are the Jobs which I kill with a frown, K are the Knocks which I give and I take: L are the Liberals whom I forsake.

M are the Ministry whom I revile; N are the Noodles my speeches beguile.

O is the Office I mean to refuse: P is the Premier--I long for his shoes.

Q are the Qualms of my conscience refined; R is the Rhetoric nothing can bind, S is Herr Schliemann who loves much to walk about T ancient Troy, which _I_ love much to talk about.

U is the Union of Church and State; V are my former Views, now out of date.

W is William, the People's 'True Bill,'

X is the Exit from power of that 'Will.'

Y is Young England, who soon will unite Z in fresh Zeal for the 'People's Delight.'