'Virgil'.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD.

1793.

TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES, FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

Dear sir, However desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circ.u.mstance of my having accompanied you amongst the Alps, seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested.

In inscribing this little work to you I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a post chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, each with his little knap-sack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter!

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.

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 Bethkelert, 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 a.s.suring you with how much affection and esteem,

I am Dear Sir,

Your most obedient very humble Servant

W. WORDSWORTH.

ARGUMENT

'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 Chartreuse--Lake of Como--Time, Sunset--Same Scene, Twilight--Same Scene, Morning, it's Voluptuous Character; Old Man and Forest Cottage Music--River Tusa--Via Mala and Grison Gypsey. Valley of 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 it's Pilgrims--Valley of Chamouny--Mont Blanc--Slavery of Savoy--Influence of Liberty on Cottage Happiness--France--Wish for the extirpation of Slavery--Conclusion.'

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES [A]

Were there, below, a spot of holy ground, By Pain and her sad family unfound, Sure, Nature's G.o.d that spot to man had giv'n, Where murmuring rivers join the song of ev'n; Where falls the purple morning far and wide 5 In flakes of light upon the mountain-side; Where summer Suns in ocean sink to rest, Or moonlight Upland lifts her h.o.a.ry breast; Where Silence, on her night of wing, o'er-broods Unfathom'd dells and undiscover'd woods; 10 Where rocks and groves the power of waters shakes In cataracts, or sleeps in quiet lakes.

But doubly pitying Nature loves to show'r Soft on his wounded heart her healing pow'r, Who plods o'er hills and vales his road forlorn, 15 Wooing her varying charms from eve to morn.

No sad vacuities his heart annoy, Blows not a Zephyr but it whispers joy; For him lost flowers their idle sweets exhale; He tastes the meanest note that swells the gale; 20 For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn, And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn!

Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head, And dear the green-sward to his velvet tread; Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye? 25 Upward he looks--and calls it luxury; Kind Nature's charities his steps attend, In every babbling brook he finds a friend, While chast'ning thoughts of sweetest use, bestow'd By Wisdom, moralize his pensive road. 30 Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bow'r, To his spare meal he calls the pa.s.sing poor; He views the Sun uprear his golden fire, Or sink, with heart alive like [B] Memnon's lyre; Blesses the Moon that comes with kindest ray 35 To light him shaken by his viewless 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. 40 While unsuspended wheels the village dance, The maidens eye him with inquiring glance, Much wondering what sad stroke of crazing Care Or desperate Love could lead a wanderer there.

Me, lur'd by hope her sorrows to remove, 45 A heart, that could not much itself approve, O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led, [C] Her road elms rustling thin above my head, Or through her truant pathway's native charms, By secret villages and lonely farms, 50 To where the Alps, ascending white in air, Toy with the Sun, and glitter from afar.

Ev'n now I sigh at h.o.a.ry Chartreuse' doom Weeping beneath his chill of mountain gloom.

Where now is fled that Power whose frown severe 55 Tam'd "sober Reason" till she crouch'd in fear?

That breath'd a death-like peace these woods around Broke only by th' unvaried torrent's sound, Or prayer-bell by the dull cicada drown'd.

The cloister startles at the gleam of arms, 60 And Blasphemy the shuddering fane alarms; Nod the cloud-piercing pines their troubl'd heads, Spires, rocks, and lawns, a browner night o'erspreads.

Strong terror checks the female peasant's sighs, And start th' astonish'd shades at female eyes. 65 The thundering tube the aged angler hears, And swells the groaning torrent with his tears.

From Bruno's forest screams the frighted jay, And slow th' insulted eagle wheels away.

The cross with hideous laughter Demons mock, 70 By [D] angels planted on the aereal rock.

The "parting Genius" sighs with hollow breath Along the mystic streams of [E] Life and Death.

Swelling the outcry dull, that long resounds Portentous, thro' her old woods' trackless bounds, 75 Deepening her echoing torrents' awful peal And bidding paler shades her form conceal, [F] Vallombre, mid her falling fanes, deplores, For ever broke, the sabbath of her bow'rs.

More pleas'd, my foot the hidden margin roves 80 Of Como bosom'd deep in chesnut groves.

No meadows thrown between, the giddy steeps Tower, bare or sylvan, from the narrow deeps.

To towns, whose shades of no rude sound complain, To ringing team unknown and grating wain, 85 To flat-roof'd towns, that touch the water's bound, Or lurk in woody sunless glens profound, Or from the bending rocks obtrusive cling, And o'er the whiten'd wave their shadows fling; Wild round the steeps the little [G] pathway twines, 90 And Silence loves it's purple roof of vines.

The viewless lingerer hence, at evening, sees From rock-hewn steps the sail between the trees; Or marks, mid opening cliffs, fair dark-ey'd maids Tend the small harvest of their garden glades, 95 Or, led by distant warbling notes, surveys, With hollow ringing ears and darkening gaze, Binding the charmed soul in powerless trance, Lip-dewing Song and ringlet-tossing Dance, Where sparkling eyes and breaking smiles illume 100 The bosom'd cabin's lyre-enliven'd gloom; Or stops the solemn mountain-shades to view Stretch, o'er their pictur'd mirror, broad and blue, Tracking the yellow sun from steep to steep, As up th' opposing hills, with tortoise foot, they creep. 105 Here half a village shines, in gold array'd, Bright as the moon, half hides itself in shade.

From the dark sylvan roofs the restless spire Inconstant glancing, mounts like springing fire.

There, all unshaded, blazing forests throw no 110 Rich golden verdure on the waves below.

Slow glides the sail along th' illumin'd sh.o.r.e, And steals into the shade the lazy oar.

Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs, And amourous music on the water dies. 115 Heedless how Pliny, musing here, survey'd Old Roman boats and figures thro' the shade, Pale Pa.s.sion, overpower'd, retires and woos The thicket, where th' unlisten'd stock-dove coos.

How bless'd, delicious Scene! the eye that greets 120 Thy open beauties, or thy lone retreats; Th' unwearied sweep of wood thy cliffs that scales, The never-ending waters of thy vales; The cots, those dim religious groves enbow'r, Or, under rocks that from the water tow'r 125 Insinuated, sprinkling all the sh.o.r.e, Each with his household boat beside the door, Whose flaccid sails in forms fantastic droop, Bright'ning the gloom where thick the forests stoop; --Thy torrents shooting from the clear-blue sky, 130 Thy towns, like swallows' nests that cleave on high; That glimmer h.o.a.r in eve's last light, descry'd Dim from the twilight water's s.h.a.ggy side, Whence lutes and voices down th' enchanted woods Steal, and compose the oar-forgotten floods, 135 While Evening's solemn bird melodious weeps, Heard, by star-spotted bays, beneath the steeps; --Thy lake, mid smoking woods, that blue and grey Gleams, streak'd or dappled, hid from morning's ray Slow-travelling down the western hills, to fold 140 It's green-ting'd margin in a blaze of gold; From thickly-glittering spires the matin-bell Calling the woodman from his desert cell, A summons to the sound of oars, that pa.s.s, Spotting the steaming deeps, to early ma.s.s; 145 Slow swells the service o'er the water born, While fill each pause the ringing woods of morn.

Farewel! those forms that, in thy noon-tide shade, Rest, near their little plots of wheaten glade; Those stedfast eyes, that beating b.r.e.a.s.t.s inspire 150 To throw the "sultry ray" of young Desire; Those lips, whose tides of fragrance come, and go, Accordant to the cheek's unquiet glow; Those shadowy b.r.e.a.s.t.s in love's soft light array'd, And rising, by the moon of pa.s.sion sway'd. 155

--Thy fragrant gales and lute-resounding streams, Breathe o'er the failing soul voluptuous dreams; While Slavery, forcing the sunk mind to dwell On joys that might disgrace the captive's cell, Her shameless timbrel shakes along thy marge, 160 And winds between thine isles the vocal barge.

Yet, arts are thine that rock th' unsleeping heart, And smiles to Solitude and Want impart.

I lov'd, mid thy most desert woods astray, With pensive step to measure my slow way, [H] 165 By lonely, silent cottage-doors to roam, The far-off peasant's day-deserted home; Once did I pierce to where a cabin stood, The red-breast peace had bury'd it in wood, There, by the door a h.o.a.ry-headed sire 170 Touch'd with his wither'd hand an aged lyre; Beneath an old-grey oak as violets lie, Stretch'd at his feet with stedfast, upward eye, His children's children join'd the holy sound, A hermit--with his family around. 175

Hence shall we seek where fair Locarno smiles Embower'd in walnut slopes and citron isles, Or charms that smile on Tusa's evening stream, While mid dim towers and woods her [I] waters gleam; From the bright wave, in solemn gloom, retire 180 The dull-red steeps, and darkening still, aspire, To where afar rich orange l.u.s.tres glow Round undistinguish'd clouds, and rocks, and snow; Or, led where Viamala's chasms confine Th' indignant waters of the infant Rhine, 185 Bend o'er th' abyss?--the else impervious gloom His burning eyes with fearful light illume.

The Grison gypsey here her tent has plac'd, Sole human tenant of the piny waste; Her tawny skin, dark eyes, and glossy locks, 190 Bend o'er the smoke that curls beneath the rocks.

--The mind condemn'd, without reprieve, to go O'er life's long deserts with it's charge of woe, With sad congratulation joins the train, Where beasts and men together o'er the plain 195 Move on,--a mighty caravan of pain; Hope, strength, and courage, social suffering brings, Freshening the waste of sand with shades and springs.

--She solitary through the desert drear Spontaneous wanders, hand in hand with Fear. 200

A giant moan along the forest swells Protracted, and the twilight storm foretells, And, ruining from the cliffs their deafening load Tumbles, the wildering Thunder slips abroad; On the high summits Darkness comes and goes, 205 Hiding their fiery clouds, their rocks, and snows; The torrent, travers'd by the l.u.s.tre broad, Starts like a horse beside the flashing road; In the roof'd [J] bridge, at that despairing hour, She seeks a shelter from the battering show'r. 210 --Fierce comes the river down; the crashing wood Gives way, and half it's pines torment the flood; [K] Fearful, beneath, the Water-spirits call, And the bridge vibrates, tottering to its fall.

--Heavy, and dull, and cloudy is the night, 215 No star supplies the comfort of it's light, Glimmer the dim-lit Alps, dilated, round, And one sole light shifts in the vale profound; While, opposite, the waning moon hangs still, And red, above her melancholy hill. 220 By the deep quiet gloom appall'd, she sighs, Stoops her sick head, and shuts her weary eyes.

--Breaking th' ascending roar of desert floods, And insect buzz, that stuns the sultry woods, She hears, upon the mountain forest's brow, 225 The death-dog, howling loud and long, below; On viewless fingers counts the valley-clock, Followed by drowsy crow of midnight c.o.c.k.

--Bursts from the troubl'd Larch's giant boughs The pie, and chattering breaks the night's repose. 230 Low barks the fox; by Havoc rouz'd the bear, Quits, growling, the white bones that strew his lair; The dry leaves stir as with the serpent's walk, And, far beneath, Banditti voices talk; Behind her hill the Moon, all crimson, rides, 235 And his red eyes the slinking Water hides; Then all is hush'd; the bushes rustle near, And with strange tinglings sings her fainting ear.

--Vex'd by the darkness, from the piny gulf Ascending, nearer howls the famish'd wolf, 240 While thro' the stillness scatters wild dismay, Her babe's small cry, that leads him to his prey.

Now, pa.s.sing Urseren's open vale serene, Her quiet streams, and hills of downy green, Plunge with the Russ embrown'd by Terror's breath, 245 Where danger roofs the narrow walks of death; By floods, that, thundering from their dizzy height, Swell more gigantic on the stedfast sight; Black drizzling craggs, that beaten by the din, Vibrate, as if a voice complain'd within; 250 Bare steeps, where Desolation stalks, afraid, Unstedfast, by a blasted yew upstay'd; By [L] cells whose image, trembling as he prays, Awe-struck, the kneeling peasant scarce surveys; Loose-hanging rocks the Day's bless'd eye that hide, 255 And [M] crosses rear'd to Death on every side, Which with cold kiss Devotion planted near, And, bending, water'd with the human tear, Soon fading "silent" from her upward eye, Unmov'd with each rude form of Danger nigh, 260 Fix'd on the anchor left by him who saves Alike in whelming snows and roaring waves.

On as we move, a softer prospect opes, Calm huts, and lawns between, and sylvan slopes.

While mists, suspended on th' expiring gale, 265 Moveless o'er-hang the deep secluded vale, The beams of evening, slipping soft between, Light up of tranquil joy a sober scene; Winding it's dark-green wood and emerald glade, The still vale lengthens underneath the shade; 270 While in soft gloom the scattering bowers recede, Green dewy lights adorn the freshen'd mead, Where solitary forms illumin'd stray Turning with quiet touch the valley's hay, On the low [N] brown wood-huts delighted sleep 275 Along the brighten'd gloom reposing deep.

While pastoral pipes and streams the landscape lull, And bells of pa.s.sing mules that tinkle dull, In solemn shapes before th' admiring eye Dilated hang the misty pines on high, 280 Huge convent domes with pinnacles and tow'rs, And antique castles seen tho' drizzling show'rs.

From such romantic dreams my sould awake, Lo! Fear looks silent down on Uri's lake, By whose unpathway'd margin still and dread 285 Was never heard the plodding peasant's tread.

Tower like a wall the naked rocks, or reach Far o'er the secret water dark with beech, More high, to where creation seems to end, Shade above shade the desert pines ascend, 290 And still, below, where mid the savage scene Peeps out a little speck of smilgin green, There with his infants man undaunted creeps And hangs his small wood-hut upon the steeps.

A garden-plot the desert air perfumes, 295 Mid the dark pines a little orchard blooms, A zig-zag path from the domestic skiff Threading the painful cragg surmounts the cliff.

--Before those hermit doors, that never know The face of traveller pa.s.sing to and fro, 300 No peasant leans upon his pole, to tell For whom at morning toll'd the funeral bell, Their watch-dog ne'er his angry bark forgoes, Touch'd by the beggar's moan of human woes, The gra.s.s seat beneath their cas.e.m.e.nt shade 305 The pilgrim's wistful eye hath never stay'd.

--There, did the iron Genius not disdain The gentle Power that haunts the myrtle plain, There might the love-sick maiden sit, and chide Th' insuperable rocks and severing tide, 310 There watch at eve her lover's sun-gilt sail Approaching, and upbraid the tardy gale, There list at midnight till is heard no more, Below, the echo of his parting oar, There hang in fear, when growls the frozen stream, 315 To guide his dangerous tread the taper's gleam.

Mid stormy vapours ever driving by, Where ospreys, cormorants, and herons cry, Where hardly giv'n the hopeless waste to chear, Deny'd the bread of life the foodful ear, 320 Dwindles the pear on autumn's latest spray, And apple sickens pale in summer's ray, Ev'n here Content has fix'd her smiling reign With Independance child of high Disdain.

Exulting mid the winter of the skies, 325 Shy as the jealous chamois, Freedom flies, And often grasps her sword, and often eyes, Her crest a bough of Winter's bleakest pine, Strange "weeds" and alpine plants her helm entwine, And wildly-pausing oft she hangs aghast, 330 While thrills the "Spartan fife" between the blast.

'Tis storm; and hid in mist from hour to hour All day the floods a deeper murmur pour, And mournful sounds, as of a Spirit lost, Pipe wild along the hollow-bl.u.s.tering coast, 335 'Till the Sun walking on his western field Shakes from behind the clouds his flashing shield.

Triumphant on the bosom of the storm, Glances the fire-clad eagle's wheeling form; Eastward, in long perspective glittering, shine 340 The wood-crown'd cliffs that o'er the lake recline; Wide o'er the Alps a hundred streams unfold, At once to pillars turn'd that flame with gold; Behind his sail the peasant strives to shun The west that burns like one dilated sun, 345 Where in a mighty crucible expire The mountains, glowing hot, like coals of fire. [O]