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Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
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 Duke University Libraries 
 
 littp://arcliive.org/details/ciiildeliaroldspil26byro 
 
THIRD CANTO 
 
 OF 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD. 
 
Published Tin's, day in 8to. 5s. 6d. 
 
 THE PRISONER OF CHILLON ; 
 
 A DREAM ; 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY THE RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON. 
 
 T. D.WISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whittfriars, London. 
 
Cl^iltie ^arolti'0 ^ilgrimafle* 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 BY LORD BYRON. 
 
 " Afin que cette application vous for9^t de penser k autre chose ; il n'y a 
 en v^rite de remade que celui-li et le temps." 
 
 Lettre du Roi de Prusse a D'Alembert, Sept. 7, 1776. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE- SITIEET. 
 
 1816. 
 
 
 
TT.~K- A. 
 
 C|)iHie i|atoHi'0 iltlgrimage. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 308555 
 
€Ultit fi^aroUi's ^^ilgrimasc. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 
 Is thy face like thy mother''s5 my fau* child ! 
 Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? 
 When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, 
 And then we parted, — not as now we part, 
 But with a hope. — 
 
 Awaking with a start, 
 The waters heave around me ; and on high 
 The winds lift up their voices : I depart. 
 Whither I know not ; but the hour 's gone by. 
 When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye. 
 
 b2 
 
* CHlLDfe HAHOLD'S Canto III. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Once more upon the waters ! yet once more ! 
 And the waves bound beneath me as a steed 
 That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar ! 
 Swift be their guidance, wheresoever it lead ! 
 Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, 
 And the rent ca,nvas fluttering strew the galej 
 Still must I on ; for I am as a weed, 
 iFlung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail 
 Where''er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. 
 
 ill. 
 
 In my youth's summer I did sing of One, 
 The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind ; 
 Again I seize the theme then but begun, 
 And bear it Avith me, as the rushing wind 
 Bears the cloud onwards : in that Tale I find 
 The furrows of long thought, alid dried-iip tears, 
 Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind. 
 O'er which all heavily the journeying years 
 Plod the last sands of life, — where not a flower appears. 
 
Canto III. PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Since my young days of passion — joy, or pain, 
 Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string, 
 And both may jar ; it may be, that in vain 
 I would essay as I have sung to sing. 
 Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling ; 
 So that it wean me from the weary dream 
 Of selfish grief or gladness— so it fling 
 Forgetfulness around me — it shall seem 
 To me, though to none else, a, not ungrateful theme, 
 
 v. 
 
 He, who grown aged in this world of woe^ 
 In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life. 
 So that no wonder waits him ; nor below 
 Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife. 
 Cut to his heart again with the keen knife 
 Of silent, sharp endurance : he can tell 
 Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife 
 With airy images, and shapes which dwell 
 Still unimpaired, though old, in the soul's haunted celK 
 
" CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 111. 
 
 VI. 
 'Tis to create, and in creating live 
 A being more intense, that we endow 
 With form our fancy, gaining as we give 
 The life we image, even as I do now. 
 What am I ? Nothing ; but not so art thou. 
 Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth, 
 Invisible but gazing, as I glow 
 Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, 
 And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet must I think less wildly : — I have thought 
 Too long and darkly, tUl my brain became, 
 In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, 
 A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame : 
 And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, 
 My springs of Hfe were poison'd. 'Tis too late ! 
 Yet am I changed ; though stiU enough the same 
 In strength to bear what time can not abate, 
 And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate. 
 
Canto TIT. PILGRIMAGE. 7 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Something too much of this : — but now 'tis past, 
 And the spell closes with its silent seal. 
 Long absent Harold re-appears at last ; 
 He of the breast which fain no more would feel. 
 Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er heal ; 
 Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him 
 In soul and aspect as in age : years steal 
 Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb ; 
 And Ufe's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. 
 
 IX. 
 
 • His had been quafF'd too quickly, and he found 
 The dregs were wormwood ; but he fiU'd again. 
 And from a purer fount, on hoHer ground. 
 And deem'd its spring perpetual ; but in vain ! 
 Still round him clung invisibly a chain 
 Which gall'd for ever, fettering though unseen. 
 And heavy though it clank'd not ; worn with pain. 
 Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen, . 
 Entering with every step, betook, through many a scene. 
 
» CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I Ih 
 
 X. 
 Seciire in guarded coldness, he had mix'd 
 Again in fancied safety with his kind, 
 And deemed his spirit now so firmly fix'd 
 And sh^ath'd with an invulnerable mind, 
 That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind ; 
 And hfe, as one, might midst the many stand 
 Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find 
 Fit speculation ! such as in strange land 
 He found ip wonder-^works of God and Nature's hand. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But who can view the ripened rose, nor seek 
 To wear it ? who can curiously behold 
 The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek, 
 Nor feel the heart can never all grow old ? 
 Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold 
 The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb ? 
 Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd 
 On with the giddy circle, chasing Time, 
 Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime. 
 
Canto 111. PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 XIL 
 
 But soon he knew himself the most unfit 
 Of men to herd with Man ; with whom he held 
 Little in common ; untaught to submit 
 His thoughts to others, though bis soul was quell'd 
 In youth by his own thoughts ; still uncompell'd, 
 He would not yield dominion of his mind 
 To spirits against whom his own rebelPd ; 
 Proud though in desolation ; which could find 
 A life ^vithin itself, to breathe without mankind, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends ; 
 Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home ; 
 ^ Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends, 
 He had the passion and the power to roam ; 
 The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam. 
 Were unto hiib companionship ; they spake 
 A mutual language, clearer than the tome 
 Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake 
 For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lake/ 
 
10 CHILDE HAROLD'S Cmto 111. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stafSj 
 TiH he had peopled them with beings bright 
 As their own beams ; and earth, and earth-bom jars, 
 And human frailties, were forgotten quite : 
 Could he have kept his spirit to that flight 
 He had been happy ; but this clay wiU sink 
 Its spark immortal, envying it the hght 
 To which it mounts, as if to break the link 
 That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink. 
 
 XV. 
 
 But in Man's dwellings he became a thing 
 Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, 
 Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with dipt wing, 
 To whom the boundless air alone were home : 
 Then came his fit again, which to overcome, 
 As eagerly the barr'd-up bird wiU beat 
 His breast and beak against his wiry dome 
 Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat 
 Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat. 
 
Canto TIL PILGRIMAGE. 11 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, 
 With nought of hope left, biit with less of gloom ; 
 The very knowledge that he lived in vain. 
 That all was over on this side the tomb, 
 Had made Despair a smilingness assume, 
 Which, though 'twere wild, — as on the plundered v/reek 
 When mariners would madly meet their doom 
 With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,— 
 Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Stop ! — ^for thy tread is on an Empire's dust ! 
 An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below ! 
 Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust ? 
 Nor column trophied for triumphal show ? 
 None ; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, 
 As the ground was before, thus let it be; — 
 How that red rain hath made the harvest grow ! 
 And is this all the world has gained by thee. 
 Thou first and last of fields ! king-making Victory ? 
 
12 
 
 CHILBE HAROLD'S Ganto III. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, 
 The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo ! 
 How in an hour the power which gave annuls 
 Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too ! 
 In " pride of place" ^ here last the eagle flew. 
 Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain. 
 Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through ; 
 Ambition's life and labours all were vain ; 
 He wears the shattered links of the world's broken chain, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Fit retribution ! Gaul may champ the bit 
 And foani in fetters; — ^but is Earth more freer! 
 Did nations combat to make One submit ; 
 Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty ? 
 What ! shall reviving Thraldom again be 
 The patched-up idol of enlightened days ? 
 Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we 
 Pay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze 
 And servile knees to thrones .'' No ; prove before ye praise ! 
 
Canto 111. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 1-3 
 
 XX. 
 
 If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more ! 
 In vain fair cheeks were furrowed with hot tears 
 For Europe's flowers long rooted up before 
 The trarapler of her vineyards ; in vain years 
 Of death, depopulation, bondage, fears, 
 Have all been borne, and broken by the accord 
 Of roused-up millions : all that most endears 
 Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a sword 
 Such as Harmodius " drew on Athens' tyrant lord. 
 
 XXL 
 
 There was a sound of revelry by nighty 
 And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
 Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; 
 A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell. 
 Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, 
 And 3 all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising kneU 1 
 
1,4 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto HI. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind, 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 
 On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
 No sleep till mom, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
 To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — 
 But, hark !— that heavy sound breaks in once more. 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
 .^nd nearer, clearer, deadher than before ! 
 Arm! Arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar I 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Within a windowed niche of that high hall 
 Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear 
 That sound the first amidst the festival. 
 And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear ; 
 And when they smiled because he deem'd it near, 
 His heart more truly knew that peal too well 
 Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier. 
 And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: 
 He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. 
 
Canto III. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 15 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 i 
 
 Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
 And gathering tears, and trembhngs of distress, 
 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
 Blush'd at the praise of their own lovehness ; 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
 Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess 
 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes. 
 Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed. 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
 Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
 And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
 And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, 
 Or whispering, with white lips — "The foe! They come! they 
 come !" 
 
I'S CHILDE HAROLD'S 
 
 Canto in. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering" rose ! 
 The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills 
 Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : — 
 How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills. 
 Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 
 Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers 
 With the fierce native daring which instils 
 The stirring memory of a thousand years. 
 And * Evans's, * Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears ! 
 
 xxvti. 
 
 And Atdennes ^ waves above theni her green leaves. 
 Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass. 
 Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
 Over the unreturning brave,— alas ! 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 Wliich now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
 Of living valour, rolling on the foe 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 
 
Canto JIT. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE, 17 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 l,ast noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
 Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, 
 The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife. 
 The morn the marshalhng in arms,— the day 
 Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
 The bunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent 
 The earth is covered thick with other clay. 
 Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
 Sider and horse,— friend, foe,— in one red burial blent? 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Their praise is liyran'd by loftier harps than mine ; 
 Yet one I would select from that proud throng. 
 Partly because they blend me with his line 
 And partly that I did his sire some wrong. 
 And partly that bright names will hallow song ; 
 And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd 
 The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, 
 Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd. 
 They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant 
 Howard ! 
 
18 CHILDE UAROLD'S^ Gmlo 111* 
 
 Xxx 
 
 There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee. 
 And mine were nothing, had I such to give ; 
 But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, 
 Which hving waves where thou didst cease to hve. 
 And saw around me the wide field revive 
 With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring 
 Come forth her work of gladness to cwitrive. 
 With all her reckless birds upon the wing, 
 1 tum'd from all she brought to those she cotdd not bring.' 
 
 XXXI 
 
 I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each 
 And one as all a ghastly gap did make 
 In his OAvn kind and kindred, whom to teach 
 Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake ; 
 The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake 
 Those whom they thirst for ; though the sound of Fame 
 May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake 
 The fever of vain longing, and the name 
 So honoured but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. 
 
eantolll. PILGRIMAGE. 19' 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn: 
 The tree will wither long before it fall ; 
 The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn ; 
 The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall 
 In massy hoariness ; the ruined wall 
 Stands when its wind- worn battlements are gone ; 
 The bars survive the captive they enthral ; 
 The day drags through though storms keep out the sun ; 
 And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly hve on : 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Even as a broken mirror, which the glass , 
 
 In every fragment multiphes ; and makes 
 A thousand images of one that was, 
 The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; 
 And thus the heart will do which not forsakes. 
 Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold. 
 And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches. 
 Yet withers on till all without is old, 
 Shewing no visible sign, for such things are untold. 
 
 c 2 
 
so- CHILDE HAROLD'S 
 
 Canto IIP. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 There is a very life in our despair, 
 Vitality of poison,— a quick root 
 Which feeds these deadly branches ; for it were 
 As nothing did we die ; but Life will suit 
 Itself to Sorrow"'s most detested fruit, 
 Like to the apples on the ^ Dead Sea's shore. 
 All ashes to the taste : Did man compute 
 Existence by enjojrment, and count o'er 
 Such hours 'gainst years of life, — say, would he name three- 
 score ? 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The Psalmist numbered out the years of man : 
 They are enough ; and if thy tale be triie, 
 Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span. 
 More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo ! 
 Millions of tongues record thee, and anew 
 Their children's Mps shall echo them, and say — 
 " Here, where the sword united nations drew, 
 " Our countrymen were warring on that day ! " 
 And this is much, and all which will not pass away. 
 
Canto 111. PILGRIMAGE. SI 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 There stink the greatest, nor the worst of men, 
 Whose spirit antithetically mixt 
 One moment of the mightiest, and again 
 On little objects with like firmness fixt, 
 Extreme in all things ! hadst thou been betwixt. 
 Thy throne had still been thine, or never been ; 
 For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st 
 Even now to re-assume the imperial mien, 
 And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the Scene ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Conqueror and captive of the earth art tliou ! 
 She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name 
 Was nfe'er more bruited in men's minds than now 
 That thoiiart nothing, save the jest of Fame, 
 Who wooed thee once, thy vassal, and became 
 The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert 
 A god unto thyself; nor less the same 
 To the astounded kingdoms all inert, 
 Who deemed thee for a time whatever thou didst assert. 
 
»K CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto TIL 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Ohj more or less than man — in high or low. 
 Battling with nations, flying from the field ; 
 Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now 
 More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield ; 
 An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild. 
 But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor. 
 However deeply in menu's spirits skill'd. 
 Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war, 
 Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide 
 With that untaught innate philosophy. 
 Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride. 
 Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. 
 When the whole host of hatred stood hard by. 
 To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled 
 With a sedate and all-enduring eye ; — 
 When Fortiuie fled her spoil'd and favourite child, 
 He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon him piled. 
 
Canto nr: PILGRIMAGE. ««» 
 
 XL. 
 
 Sager than in thy fortunes ; for in them 
 Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show 
 That just habitual scorn which could contemn 
 Men and their thoughts ; 'twas wise to feel, not so 
 To wear it ever on thy lip and brow, 
 And spurn the instruments thou wert to use 
 Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow: 
 'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose; 
 So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who choose. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 If, hke a tower upon a headlong rock. 
 Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, 
 Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock ; 
 But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy throne, 
 Their admiration thy best weapon shone ; 
 The part of Philip's son was thine, not then 
 (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) 
 Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ; 
 For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den. ^ 
 
M 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S Cmtto 111. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 fiut quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, 
 And there hath been thy bane ; there is a fire 
 And motion of the soul which will not dAvell 
 In its own narrow beings but aspire 
 Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; 
 And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore^ 
 Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire 
 -Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core. 
 Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 *rhis makes the madmen who have made men tiiad 
 By their contagion ; Conquerors and Kings, 
 Founders of sects and systems, to whom add 
 Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things 
 Which stir too strongly the souFs secret springs, 
 And are themselves the fools to those they fool ; 
 Envied, yet how unenviable ! what stings 
 Are theirs ! One breast laid open were a school 
 Whidi would unteach mankind the lust to shine or rule 
 
C««(« ///, 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. ^5 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Their breath is agitation, and their life 
 A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, 
 And yet so nurs'd and bigotted to strife. 
 That should their days, surviving perils past, 
 Melt to calm t^^dlight, they feel overcast 
 With sorrov/ and supineness, and so die ; 
 Even as a flame unfed, wl^iich runs to w^aste 
 With its own flickering, or a sword laid by 
 Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find 
 The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow'; 
 He who surpasses or subdues mankind, ■ 
 Must look down on the hate of those below. 
 Though high above the sun of glory glow. 
 And far beneath the earth and ocean spread^ 
 Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
 Contending tempests on his naked head, 
 And thus reward the toils which to those surhmits led^ 
 
26 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto JI I. 
 
 XLVL 
 
 Away with these ! true Wisdom's world will be 
 Within its own creation, or in thine, 
 Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee, 
 Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? 
 There Harold gazes on a work divine, 
 A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells, 
 Fruit, foHage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vincj 
 And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells 
 From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind, 
 Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, 
 All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, 
 Or holding dark communion with the cloud. 
 There was a day when they were young and proud, 
 Banners on high, and battles pass'd below ; 
 But they who fought are in a bloody shroud, 
 And those which waved are shredless dust ere now^ 
 And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow. 
 
Canto in. PILGRIMAGE. ^1 
 
 XLVIIl. 
 
 Beneath these battlements, within those walls, 
 Power dwelt amidst her passions ; in proud state 
 Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, 
 Doing his evil will, nor less elate 
 Than mightier heroes of a longer date. 
 What want these outlaws ^° conquerors should have ? 
 But History's purchased page to call them great ? 
 A wider space, an ornamented grave ? 
 Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 In their baronial feuds and single fields. 
 What deeds of prowess unrecorded died ! 
 And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields, 
 With emblems well devised by amorous pride. 
 Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide ; 
 But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on 
 Keen contest and destruction near allied. 
 And many a tower for some fair mischief won. 
 Saw the discoloured Rhine beneath its ruin run. 
 
m 
 
 CIIlLrDE HAROLD'S CanlelU. 
 
 But Thou, exulting and abounding river ! 
 Making thy waves a blessing as they flow 
 Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever 
 Could man but leave thy bright creation so. 
 Nor its fair promise from the surface mow 
 "With the sharp scythe of conflict, — then to see 
 Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know 
 Earth paved like Heaven ; and to seem such to me 
 Even now what wants thy stream ? — that it shoujd Lethe be. 
 
 Li. 
 
 A thousand battles have assail*'d thy banks, 
 But these and half their fame have passed away^ 
 And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks; 
 Then- very graves are gone, and what are they? 
 Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday. 
 And all was stainless, and on thy cleai' stream 
 Glass''d with its dancing light the sunn}'^ ray ; 
 But o'er the blackened memory's bhghting dream 
 Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem^ 
 
Canto JIL PILGROIAGE. 39 
 
 LII. 
 
 Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along, 
 Yet not insensibly to all which here 
 Awoke the jocund birds to early song 
 In fflens which might have made even exile dear : 
 Though on his brow were graven lines austere, 
 And tranquil sternness which had ta''en the place 
 Of feehngs fierier far but less severe, 
 Joy was not always absent from his face, 
 But o'er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Nor was aU love shut from him, though his days 
 Of passion had consumed themselves to dust. 
 It is in vain that we would coldly gaze 
 On such as smile upon us ; the heart, must 
 Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust 
 Hath wean'd it from all worldhngs : thus he felt, 
 For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust 
 In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, 
 And ijn its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt. 
 
•^0 GHILDE HAROLD'S 
 
 Canto 111. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 And he had learn'd to love, — I know not why, 
 For this in such as him seems strange of mood, — • 
 The helpless looks of blooming infancy. 
 Even in its earliest nurture ; what subdued. 
 To change like this, a mind so far imbued 
 With scorn of man, it little boots to know ; 
 But thus it was ; and though in solitude 
 Small power the nipp'd affections have to grow. 
 In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow. * 
 
 LV. 
 
 And there was one soft breast^ as hath been said. 
 Which unto his was bound by stronger ties 
 Than the church links withal ; and, though unwed. 
 That love was pure, and, far above disguise. 
 Had stood the test of mortal enmities 
 Still undivided, and cemented more 
 By peril, dreaded most in female eyes ; 
 But this was firm, and from a foreign shore 
 Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour .' 
 
Canto 111. PILGRIMAGE. 311 
 
 1. 
 
 The castled crag of Drachenfels " 
 Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, 
 Whose breast of waters broadly swells 
 Between the banks which bear the vine, 
 And hills all rich with blossomed trees. 
 And fields wliich promise corn and wine. 
 And scattered cities crowning these. 
 Whose far white walls along them shine. 
 Have strewed a scene, which I should see 
 With double joy wert thoii with me ! 
 
 2. 
 And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes. 
 And hands which offer early flowers. 
 Walk smiling o"'er this paradise ; 
 Above, the frequent feudal towers 
 Through green leaves lift their walls of grey, 
 And many a rock which steeply lours, 
 And noble arch in proud decay, 
 Look o"'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; 
 But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — 
 Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine i 
 
CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto lit. 
 
 a 
 
 I send the lilies given to me ; 
 Though long before thy hand they touch, 
 I know that they must withered be, 
 But yet reject them not as such ; 
 For I have cherished them as dear. 
 Because they yet" may meet thine eye, 
 And guide thy soul to mine even here, 
 When thou behold'st them drooping nigh, . 
 And knowst them gathered by the Rhine, 
 And offered from my heart to thine ! 
 
 4. 
 The river nobly foams and flows, 
 The charm of this enchanted ground, 
 And all its thousand turns disclose 
 Some fresher beauty varying round ; 
 The haughtiest breast its wish might bound 
 Through life to dwell delighted here ; 
 Nor could on earth a spot be found 
 To nature and to me so dear, 
 Could thy dear eyes in following mine 
 Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! 
 
Canto III. PILGRIMAGE. i 
 
 LVI. 
 
 By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground, 
 There is a small and simple pyramid, 
 Crowning the summit of the verdant mound ; 
 Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid. 
 Our enemy's, — ^but let not that forbid 
 Honour to Marceau ! o'er whose early tomb 
 Tears, big tears, gush'd from the rough soldier's lid, 
 Lamenting and yet envying such a doom. 
 Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career,— 
 His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes ; 
 And fitly may the stranger hngering here 
 Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose t, 
 For he was Freedom's champion, one of those. 
 The few in number, who had not o'erstept 
 The charter to chastise which she bestows 
 On such as wield her weapons ; he had kept 
 The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept. " 
 
 D 
 
m CHLLDE HAROLD'S Canto IIL 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Here Ehrenbreitstein, " with her shattered wall 
 Black with the miner's blast, upon her height 
 Yet shows of what she was, when shell and ball 
 Rebounding idly on her strength did Hght; 
 A tower of victory! from whence the flight 
 Of baffled foes was watch'd along the plain : 
 But Peace destroyed what War could never blight, 
 And laid those proud roofs bare to Simimer's rain- 
 On which the iron shower for years had pour'd in vain. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted 
 The stranger fain would linger on his way ! 
 Thine is a scene alike where souls united 
 Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray ; 
 And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey 
 On self-condemning bosoms, it were here. 
 Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay. 
 Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, 
 Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year. 
 
Cnnto III. PILGRIMAGE. P9 
 
 LX. 
 
 Adieu to thee again ! a vain adieu 1 
 There can be no farewell to scene like thine ; 
 The mind is coloured by thy every hue ; 
 And if reluctantly the eyes resign 
 Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine ! 
 'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise; 
 More mighty spots may rise — more glaring shine, 
 But none unite in one attaching maze 
 The brilliant, fair, and soft, — ^the glories of old day a, 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The neghgently grand, the fruitful bloom 
 Of coming ripeness, the white city''s sheen, 
 The roUing stream, the precipice"'s gloom, 
 The forest''s growth, and Gothic walls between. 
 The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been 
 In mockery of man's art ; and these withal 
 A race of faces happy as the scene. 
 Whose fertile bounties here extend to all. 
 Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near them fall, 
 
 d2 
 
S6 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto IIL 
 
 ' Lxn. 
 
 But these recede. Above me are the Alps, 
 The palaees of Nature, whose vast walls 
 Have pinnacled in clouds their ^owy scalps. 
 And throned Eternity in icy halls 
 Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls 
 The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! 
 All that expands the spirit, yet appals. 
 Gather around these summits, as to show 
 How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below; 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan, 
 There is a spot should not be pass'd in vain, — 
 Morat ! the proud, the patriot field I where man 
 May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain. 
 Nor blush for those who conquered on that plain ; 
 Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host, 
 A bony heap, through ages to remain, 
 Themselves their monument ; — the Stygian coast 
 Unsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each wandering 
 ghost. ^* 
 
Co/if III. PILGRIMAGE. ST 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 While Waterloo with Cannae''s carnage vies, 
 Morat and Marathon twin names shall stand ; 
 They were true Glory"'s stainless victories, 
 Won by the unambitious heart and hand 
 Of a proud, brotherly, and civic band. 
 All unbought champions in no princely cause 
 Of vice-entaiPd Corruption ; they no land 
 Doom'd to bewail the blasphemy of laws 
 Making kings'" rights divine, by some Draconic clause. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 By a lone wall a lonelier column rears 
 A gray and grief- worn aspect -of old days, 
 'Tis the last remnant of the wreck of years. 
 And looks as with the wild-be^vildered gaze 
 Of one to stone converted by amaze, 
 Yet still with consciousness ; and there it stands 
 Making a marvel that it not decays, 
 When the coeval pride of human hands. 
 Levelled '* Aventicum, hath strewed her subject lands. 
 
So CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 111. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 And there^ — oh ! sweet and sacred be the liame !— 
 Juha — ^the daughter, the devoted — gave 
 Her youth to Heaven ; her heart, beneath a claim 
 Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave. 
 Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and her's would crave 
 The life she lived in ; but the judge was just, 
 And then she died on him she could not save. 
 Their tomb was simple, and without a bust, 
 And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one dust.'^ 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 But these are ideeds which should not pass away. 
 And names that must not wither, though the earth 
 Forgets her empires with a just decay. 
 The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and birth ; 
 The high, the mountain-majesty of worth 
 Should be, and shall, survivor of its woe. 
 And from its immortality look forth 
 In the sun's face^ Hke yonder Alpine snow," 
 Imperishably pure beyond all things below. 
 
Canto III. PILGRIMAGE. 39 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face, 
 The mirror where the stars and mountains view 
 The stiUness of their aspect in ea,ch trace 
 Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue : 
 There is too much of man here, to look through 
 With a fit mind the might which I behold ; 
 But soon in me shall Loneliness renew 
 Thoughts hid, but not less cherish"'d than of old. 
 Ere mingling with the herd had penn"'d me in their fold. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind ; 
 AU are not fit with them to stir and toil. 
 Nor is it discontent to keep the mind 
 Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil 
 In the hot throng, where we become the spoil 
 Of our infection, till too late and long 
 We may deplore and struggle with the coil, 
 In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong 
 ^Midst a contentious world, striving where none are strong. 
 
4iO CHILDE HAEIOLD'S Canto HI. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 There, in a moment, we may plunge our years 
 In fatal penitence, and in the bhght 
 Of our own soul, turn all our blood to tears. 
 And colour things to come with hues of Night ; 
 The race of life becomes a hopeless flight 
 To those that walk in darkness : on the sea. 
 The boldest steer but where their ports invite. 
 But there are wanderers o'er Eternity 
 Whose bark drives on and on, and anchored ne''er shall be. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Is it not better, then, to be alone. 
 And love Earth only for its earthly sake ? 
 By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone, . 
 Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake. 
 Which feeds it as a mother who doth make 
 A fair but froward infant her own care, 
 Kissing its cries away as these awake ;— 
 Is it not better thus our hves to wear. 
 Than join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict oj^bear ? 
 
Canto 111., PILGRIMAGE. 4il-^ 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 I live not in myself, but I become 
 Portion of that around me ; and to me, 
 High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
 Of human cities torture : I can see 
 Nothing to loathe in nature, save to be 
 A hnk reluctant in a fleshly chain. 
 Classed among creatures, when the soul can flee, 
 And with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain 
 Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 And thus I am absorbed, and this is hfe : ^ 
 
 I look upon the peopled desart past. 
 As on a place of agony and strife, 
 Where, for some sin, to Sorrow I was cast. 
 To act and suffer, but remount at last 
 With a fresh pinion ; which I feel to spring. 
 Though young, yet waxing vigorous, as the blast 
 Which it would cope with, on dehghted wing, 
 Spurning the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling. 
 
*»^ CHILDE HAROLD'S Ganlo III. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 And when, at length, the mind shall be aU free 
 From what it hates in this degraded form, 
 Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be 
 Existent happier in the fly and worm, — 
 When elements to elements conform. 
 And dust is as it should be, shall I not 
 Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm ? 
 The bodiless thought ? the Spirit of each spot ? 
 Of which, eren now, I share at times the immortal lot ? 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part 
 Of me and of my soul, as I of them ? 
 Is not the love of these deep in my heart 
 With a pure passion ? should I not contemn 
 All objects, if compared with these ? and stem 
 A tide of suffering, rather than forego 
 Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm 
 Of those whose eyes are only tum"'d below. 
 Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not glow? 
 
Canto in. PILGRIMAGE. 4S 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 But this is not my theme ; and I return 
 To that which is immediate, and require 
 Those who find contemplation in the urn. 
 To look on One, whose dust was once all fire, 
 A native of the land where I respire 
 The clear air fiar a while — a passing guest. 
 Where he became a being, — whose desire 
 Was to be glorious ; 'twas a foolish quest. 
 The which to gain and keep, he sacrificed all rest. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau, 
 The apostle of affliction, he who threw 
 Enchantment over passion, and from woe 
 Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew 
 The breath which made him wretched ; yet he knew 
 How to make madness beautiful, and cast 
 O'er erring deeds and thoughts, a heavenly hue 
 Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they past 
 The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast. 
 
44 CHILDE HAROLD'S 
 
 Canto in. 
 
 Lxxviir. 
 
 His love was passion's essence— as a tree 
 On fire by lightning ; with ethereal flame 
 Kindled he was, and blasted ; for to be 
 Thus, and enamoured, were in him the same. 
 But his was not the love of living dame, 
 Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams, 
 But of ideal beauty, which became 
 111 him existence, and o''erflowing teems 
 Along his burning page, distempered though it seems. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 This bi*eathed itself to life in Julie, this 
 Invested her with all that's wild and sweet ; 
 This hallowed,. too, the memorable kiss 
 Which every morn his fevered lip would greet, 
 From her's, who but with friendship his would meet ; 
 But to that gentle touch, through brain and breast 
 Flash'd the thriU'd spirit's love-devouring heat ; 
 In tha4; absorbing sigh perchance more blest, : no v/ 'iO 
 Than vulgar minds may be with all they seek possest.'^ 
 
Cunto III. PILGRIMAGE. ^ 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 His life was one long war with self-sought foes, 
 Or friends by him self-banish'd ; for his mind 
 Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chase 
 For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind, 
 'Gmnst whom he raged with fury strange and bhnd. 
 But he was phrenzied, — wherefore, who may know ? 
 Since cause might be which skill could never find ; 
 But he was phrenzied by disease or woe. 
 To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 For then he was inspired, and from him came, 
 As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore. 
 Those oracles which set the world in flame, 
 Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more : 
 Did he not this for France ? which lay before 
 Bowed to the inborn tyranny of years ? 
 Broken and trembling, to the yoke she bore. 
 Till by the voice of him and his compeers. 
 Roused up to too much wrath which follows o'ergrown fears ? 
 
M CHILDE HAROLD'S €anto III. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 They made themselves a fearful monument ! 
 The wreck of old opinions — things which grew 
 Breathed from the birth of time : the veil they rent. 
 And what behind it lay, all earth shall view. 
 But good with ill they also overthrew. 
 Leaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild 
 Upon the same foundation, and renew 
 Dungeons and thrones, which the same hour re-filPd, 
 As heretofore, because ambition was self-wiU'd. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 But this wiU not endure, nor be endured \ 
 Mankind have felt their strength, and made it felt 
 They might have used it better, but, allured 
 By their new vigour, sternly have they dealt 
 On one another ; pity ceased to melt 
 With her once natural charities. But they, 
 Who in oppression''s darkness caved had dwelt, 
 They were not eagles, nourish'd with the day; 
 What marvel then, at times, if they mistook their prey ? 
 
Canto III. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. -Hf 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 What deep wounds ever closed without a scar ? 
 The hearfs bleed longest, and but heal to wear 
 That which disfigures it ; and they who war 
 With their own hopes, and have been vanquished, bear 
 Silence, but not submission : in his lair 
 Fix'd Passion holds his breath, until the hour 
 Which shall atone for years ; none need despair : 
 It came, it cometh, and will' come, — the power 
 To punish or forgive — ^in one we shall be slower. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Clear, placid Leman T thy contrasted lake, 
 With the wide world I dwelt in, is a thing 
 Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake 
 Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. 
 This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing 
 To waft me from distraction ; once I loved 
 Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring 
 Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, 
 That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. 
 
«5 CEILDE HAROLD'S Canto Ifh 
 
 LXXXVf. 
 
 It is the hush of night, and all between 
 Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, 
 Mellowed and mingUng, yet distinctly seen. 
 Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear 
 Precipitously steep ; and drawing near, 
 There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,- • 
 Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear 
 Drops the hght drip of the suspended oar. 
 Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more ; 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 He is an evening reveller, who makes 
 His Ufe an infancy, and sings his fill; 
 At intervals, some bird from out the brakes. 
 Starts into voice a moment, then is still. 
 There seems a floating whisper on the hill. 
 But that is fancy, for the starlight dews 
 All silently their tears of love instil, 
 Weeping themselves away, till they infuse 
 Deep into Nature^ breast the spirit of her hues. 
 
Canto III. PILGRIMAGE. 4<9 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! 
 If in your bright leaves we would read the fate , 
 Of men and empires, — ^'tis to be forgiven. 
 That in our aspirations to be great, 
 Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, . 
 And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are . 
 A beauty and a mystery, and create 
 In us such love and reverence from afar. 
 That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 All heaven and earth are stiU — though not in sleep. 
 But breathless, as we grow when feeUng most ; 
 And silent, as Ave stand in thoughts too deep : — 
 All heaven and earth are still : From the high host 
 Of stars, to the luU'd lake and mountain-coast, 
 AH is concentered in a life intense, 
 Wbere not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost. 
 But hath a part of being, and a sense 
 Of that which is of all Creator and defence. 
 
50 CHILDE HAKOLD'g Cuute IIL 
 
 xc. 
 
 Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt 
 In sdiitude, where we are least alone ; 
 A truth, which through oiu* being then doth melt 
 And purifies from self: it is a tone, 
 The soul and source of music, which makes known 
 Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm, 
 Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone, 
 Binding aU things with beauty; — ^'twould disarm 
 The spectre Death, had he substantial poAver to harm. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Not vainly did the early Persian make 
 His altar the high places and the peak 
 Of earth-o'ergazing mountains,2o and thus take 
 A fit and unwall'd temple, there to seek 
 The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak, 
 Uprear'd of human hands. Come, and compare 
 Columns and idoLdwellings, Goth or Greek, 
 With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air. 
 Nor fix on fond, abodes to circiunscribe thy pra3rcr! 
 
Cavto III. PILGRIMAGE. 51 
 
 XCII. 
 
 The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, 
 And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, 
 Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light 
 Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along. 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among 
 Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, 
 But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
 And Jura answers, through her misty shroud. 
 Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! 
 Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be 
 A sharer in thy fierce and far deUght, — 
 A portion of the tempest and of thee ! 
 How the ht lake shines, a phosplioric sea. 
 And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! 
 And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee 
 Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, 
 As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's bird 
 
 E^ 
 
^^ CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto III. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between 
 Heights which appear as lovers who have parted 
 In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, 
 That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted ; 
 Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted. 
 Love was the very root of the fond rage 
 Which blighted their hfe's bloom, and then departed : — 
 Itself expired, but leaving them an age 
 Of years all winters, — war within themselves to wage. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Now, where the quick Khone thus hath cleft his way, 
 The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand: 
 For here, not one, but many, make their play. 
 And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, 
 Flashing and cast around : of all the band. 
 The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd 
 His lightnings, — as if he did understand. 
 That in such gaps as desolation work'd, 
 There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'do 
 
Canto III. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. « 5S 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! yel 
 With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul 
 To make these felt and feeling, well may be 
 Things that have made me watchful ; the fair roU 
 Of your departing voices, is the knoll 
 Of what in me is sleepless, — ^if I rest. 
 But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? 
 Are ye like those within the human breast ? 
 Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Cotild I embody and unbosom now 
 That which is most within me,— could I wreak 
 My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw 
 Soul, heart, mind, passions, feehngs, strong or weak. 
 All that I would have sought, and all I seek. 
 Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word. 
 And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; 
 But as it is, I lite and die unheard, 
 With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword. 
 
54 CHILDE HAROLD'S (Jmto III. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 The morn is up again, the dewy morn, 
 With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, 
 Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, 
 And Hving as if earth contained no tomb,— 
 And glowing into day : we may resume 
 The march of our existence : and thus I, 
 Still on thy shores, fair Leman ! may find room 
 And food for meditation, nor pass by 
 Much, that may give us pause, if pondered fittingly. 
 
 xcix: 
 
 Clarens ! sweet Clarens, birth-place of deep Love ! 
 Thine air is the young breath of passionate thought ; 
 Thy trees take root in Love ; the snows above 
 The very Glaciers have his colours caught. 
 And sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought ^b 
 By rays which sleep there lovingly : the rocks. 
 The permanent crags, tell here of Love, who sought 
 In them a refuge from the worldly shocks. 
 Which stir and sting the soul with hope that woos, then mocks. 
 
CanlilU. PILGRIMAGE. S5 
 
 c. 
 
 Clarens ! by heavenly feet thy paths are trod, — 
 Undying Love's, who here ascends a throne 
 To which the steps are mountains ; where the god 
 Is a pervading hfe and hght, — so shown 
 Not on those summits solely, nor alone 
 In the still cave and forest ; o'er the flower 
 His eye is sparkling, and his breath hath blown. 
 His soft and summer breath, whose tender power 
 Passes the strength of storms in their most desolate hour. 
 
 CI. 
 
 All things are here of Mm ; from the black pines. 
 Which are his shade on high, and the loud roar 
 Of torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines 
 Which slope his green path downward to the shore. 
 Where the bowed waters meet him, and adore, 
 Kissing his feet with murmurs ; and the wood. 
 The covert of old trees, with trunks aU hoar, 
 But hght leaves, young as joy, stands where it stood 
 Offering to him, and his, a populous sohtude, 
 
56 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto III. 
 
 CII. 
 
 A populous solitude of bees and birds, 
 And fairy-form''d and many-coloured things, 
 Who worship him with notes more sweet than words. 
 And innocently open their glad wings. 
 Fearless and full of life : the gush of springs. 
 And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend 
 Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings 
 The swiftest thought of beauty, here extend. 
 Mingling, and made by Love, unto one mighty end. 
 
 cm. 
 
 He who hath loved not, here would learn that love. 
 And make his heart a spirit ; he who knows 
 That tender mystery, will love the more. 
 For this is Love"'s recess, where vain men's woes. 
 And the world's waste, have driven him far from those. 
 For 'tis his nature to advance or die ; 
 He stands not still, but or decays, or grows 
 Into a boundless blessing, which may vie 
 With the immortal lights, in its eternity ! 
 
Canto in. PILGRIMAGE. 57 
 
 CIV. 
 
 'Twas not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot, 
 Peopling it with aflPections ; but he found 
 It was the scene which passion must allot 
 To the mind's purified beings ; "'twas the ground 
 Where early Love his Psyche's zone unbound, 
 And hallowed it with loveliness : 'tis lone, 
 And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound, 
 And sense, and sight of sweetness ; here the Rhone 
 Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have rear'd a throne. 
 
 CV. 
 
 Lausanne ! and Ferney ! ye have been the abodes ^^ 
 Of names which imto you bequeath'd a name ; 
 Mortals, who sought and found, by dangerous roads, 
 A path to perpetuity of fame : • 
 They were gigantic minds, and their steep aim, 
 Was, Titan-hke, on daring doubts to pUe 
 Thoughts which should caU down thunder, and the flame 
 Of Heaven, again assail'd, if Heaven the whUe 
 On man and man's research could deign do more than smile. 
 
5$ CHILDE HiVROLD'iS Canto III. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 The one was fire and fickleness, a child, 
 Most mutable in wishes, but in mind, 
 A wit as various, — gay, grave, sage, or wild,— 
 Historian, bard, philosopher, combined ; 
 He multiplied himself among mankind. 
 The Proteus of their talents : But his own 
 Bi^eathed most in ridicule, — which, as the wind, 
 Blew where it listed, laying all things prone, — 
 Now to o"'erthrow a fool, and now to shake a throne. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 The other, deep and slow, exhausting thought. 
 And hiving wisdom with each studious year. 
 In meditation dwelt, with learning wrought, 
 And shaped his weapon with an edge severe. 
 Sapping a solemn creed with solemn snepr ; 
 The lord of irony, — ^that master-spell. 
 Which stung his foes to wrath, which grew from fear. 
 And doom'd him to the zealot's ready Hell, 
 Which answers to all doubts so eloquently Avell. 
 
Canto TIL PILGRIMAGE. 59 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Yet, peace be with their ashes, — ^for by them, 
 Jf merited, the penalty is paid ; 
 It is not ours to judge, — far less condemn ; 
 The hour must come when such things shall be made 
 Known unto all, — or hope and dread allay'd 
 By slumber, on one pillow, — in the dust. 
 Which, thus much we are sure, must he decay'd ; 
 And when it shall revive, as is our trust, 
 "'Twill be to be forgiven, or suffer what is just. 
 
 CIX. 
 
 But let me quit man's works, again to read 
 His Maker's, spread around me, and suspend 
 This page, which from my reveries I feed. 
 Until it seems prolonging without end. 
 The clouds above me to the white Alps tend, 
 And I must pierce them, and survey whate'er 
 May be permitted, as my steps I bend 
 To their most great and growing region, where 
 The earth to her embrace compels the powers of air. 
 
60 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 111. 
 
 ex. 
 
 Italia ! too, Italia ! looking on thee, 
 Full flashes on the soul the light of ages, 
 Since the fierce Carthaginian almost won thee. 
 To the last halo of the chiefs and sages, 
 Who glorify thy consecrated pages ; 
 Thou wert the throne and grave of empires ; still. 
 The fount at which the panting mind assuages 
 Her thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her fill. 
 Flows from the eternal source of Rome's imperial hill. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Thus far I have proceeded in a theme 
 Renewed with no kind auspices : — to feel 
 We are not what we have been, and to deem 
 We are not what we should be, — and to steel 
 The heart against itself; and to conceal, 
 With a proud caution, love, or hate, or aught, — 
 Passion or feehng, purpose, grief or zeal, — 
 Which is the t)rrant spmt of our thought. 
 Is a stem task of soul : — No matter,-*-it is taught. 
 
Canto in. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 61. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 And for these words, thus woven into song. 
 It may be that they are a harmless wile, — 
 The colouring of the scenes which fleet along. 
 Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile 
 My breast, or that of others, for a while. 
 Fame is the thirst of youth,— but I am not 
 So young as to regard men's frown or smile, 
 As loss or guerdon of a glorious lot ; 
 I stood and stand alone, — remembered or forgot. 
 
 CXHI. 
 
 I have not loved the world, nor the world me ; 
 I have not flattered it's rank breath, nor bow'd 
 To it's idolatries a patient knee, — 
 Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, — nor cried aloud 
 In worship of an echo ; in the crowd 
 The J could not deem me one of such ; I stood 
 Among them, but not of them ; in a slu-oud 
 Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could^ 
 Had I not filed** my mind, which thus itself subdued. 
 
O* CHILDE HAROLD'S Cuntg III. 
 
 GXIV. 
 
 I have not loved the world, nor the world mfe, — 
 But let us part fair foes ; I do believe, 
 Though I have found them not, that there may be 
 Words which are things, — ^hopes which will not deceive, 
 And virtues which are merciful, nor weave 
 Snares for the faihng : I would also deem 
 O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve ; ^s 
 That two, or one, are almost what they seem,-^ , 
 That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 My daughter ! with thy name this song begun — 
 My daughter ! mth thy name thus much shall end — 
 1 see thee not, — I hear thee not, — ^but none 
 Can be so wrapt in thee ; thou art the friend 
 To whom the shadows of far years extend : 
 Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold, 
 My voice shall with thy future visions blend. 
 And reach into thy heart, — ^when mine is cold,— 
 A token and a tone, even from thy father's moidd. 
 
Canto in. PILGRIMAGE. 63 
 
 . CXVI. 
 
 To aid thy mind's developement,— to watch 
 Thy dawn of little joys, — to sit and see 
 Almost thy very growth, — to view thee catch 
 Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee ! 
 To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee. 
 And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss, — 
 This, it should seem, was not reserved for me ; 
 Yet this was in my nature : — as it is, 
 I know not what is there, yet something hke to thijf. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught, 
 I know that thou wilt love me.; though my name 
 Should be shut from thee, as a speU still fraught 
 With desolation, — and a broken claim : 
 Though the grave, closed between us, — ^'twere the same, 
 I know that thou wilt love me ; though to drain 
 Ml/ blood from out thy being, were an aim. 
 And an attainment, — aU would be in vain,— 
 Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain. 
 
64 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto III. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 The child of love, — though born in bitterness, 
 And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire 
 These were the elements, — and thine no less. 
 As yet such are around thee, — ^but thy fire 
 Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. 
 Sweet be thy cradled slumbers ! O'er the sea, 
 And from the mountains where I now respire, 
 Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee. 
 As, with a sigh, I deem thou mighf st have been to me I 
 
Motes. 
 
NOTES 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, CANTO III. 
 
 Note 1, page 12, line 5. 
 In " jjj'ide of place'' here last the eagle Jlew. 
 " Pride of place" is a term of falconry, and means the 
 highest pitch of flight. — See Macbeth, &c. 
 
 " An Eagle towering in his pride of place 
 
 " Was by a mousing Owl hawked at and killed." 
 
 Note 2, page 13, line Q. 
 Such as Harmodius drew on Athens' tyrant lord. 
 See the famous Song on Harmodius and Aristogiton. — The 
 best English translation is in Bland's Anthology, by Mr. Den- 
 man. 
 
 " With myrtle my sword will I wreathe," &c. 
 
 Note 3, page 13, line 17. 
 And all xvent merry as a marriage-hell. 
 On the night previous to the action, it is said that a ball 
 was given at Brussels. 
 
 F 2 
 
68; NOTES. 
 
 Nates 4 and 5, page l6, line 9. 
 And Evan*s, Donald's Jame rings in each clansman's ears. 
 Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the " gentle 
 Lochiel" of the ** forty-five." 
 
 Note 6 J page 16, line 10. 
 ^nd Ardennes iuaves above them her green leaves. 
 The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the 
 *' forest of ArdenneSj" famous in Boiardo's Orlando, and im- 
 mortal in Shakespeare's " As you like it." It is also celebrated 
 in Tacitus as being the spot of successful defence by the Ger- 
 mans against the Roman encroachments. — I have ventured to 
 adopt the name connected with nobler associations than those 
 of mere slaughter. 
 
 Note 7» page 18, line 9. 
 . / turn'djrom all she brought to those she could not bring. 
 
 My guide from Mont St. Jean over the field seemed intelli- 
 gent and accurate. The place where Major Howard fell was 
 not far from two tall and solitary trees (there was a third cut 
 down, or shivered in the battle) which stand a few yards from 
 each other at a pathway's side. — Beneath these he died and was 
 buried. The body has since been removed to England. A small 
 hollow for the present marks where it lay, but will probably 
 soon be effaced ; the plough has been upon it, and the grais 
 is. 
 
 After pointing out the different spots where Picton and other 
 gallant men had perished j the guide said, ^' here Major How- 
 ard layj I was near him when wounded." I told him my rela- 
 
NOTES. 69 
 
 t'ionship, and he seemed then still more anxious to point out 
 the particular spot and circumstances. The place is one of the 
 most marked in the field from the peculiarity of the two trees 
 abovementioned. 
 
 I went on horseback twilce over the field, comparing it with 
 my recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo seems 
 marked out for the scene of some great action, though this may 
 be mere imagination : I have viewed with attention those of 
 Platea, Troy, Mantinea, Leuctra, Chseronea, and Marathon j 
 and the field around Mont St. Jean and Hougoumont appears to 
 want little biit a better cause, aid that undefinable but im- 
 pressive halo which the lapse of ages throws around a cele- 
 brated spot, to vie in interest with any or all of these, except 
 perhaps the last mentioned. 
 
 Note 8, page 20, line 6. 
 Like to the apples on the Dead Sea^s shore. 
 The (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake Asphaltes were 
 said to be fair without, and within ashes. — Vide Tacitus, His- 
 tor. 1. 5. 7. 
 
 Note 9, page 23, line last. 
 For sceptred cynics earth 'voerefar too txiide a den. 
 The great error of Napoleon, " '\i we have writ our annals 
 true," was a continued obtrusion on mankind of his want of 
 all community of feeling for or with them j perhaps more offen- 
 sive to human vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling 
 and suspicious tyranny. 
 
 Such were his speeches to public assemblies as well, as indi- 
 
70 NOTES. 
 
 viduals : and the single expression which he is said to have used 
 on returning to Paris after the Russian winter had destroyed 
 his army, rubbing his hands over a fire, " This is pleasanter 
 than Moscow," would probably alienate more favour from his 
 cause than the destruction and reverses which led to the re- 
 mark. 
 
 Note 10, page 1'J, line 6. 
 What luant these outlaius conquerors should have 9 
 " What wants that knave 
 " That a king should have ? 
 was King James's question on meeting Johnny Armstrong and 
 his followers in full accoutrements. — See the Ballad. 
 
 Note 11, page 31, line 1. 
 The castled crag of Drachenfels. 
 The castle of Drachenfels stands on the highest summit of 
 " the Seven Mountains," over the Rhine banks ; it is in ruins, 
 and connected with some singular traditions : it is the first in 
 view on the road from Bonn, but on the opposite side of the 
 river ; on this bank, nearly facing it, are the remains of another 
 called the Jew's castle, and a large cross commemorative of the 
 murder of a chief by his brother : the number of castles and 
 cities along the course of the Rhine on both sides is very great, 
 and their situations remarkably beautiful. 
 
 Note 12, page 33, line last. 
 
 The tvhiteness of his soul, and thus men oer him wept. 
 
 The monument of the young and lamented General Marceau 
 
iv NOTES. 71 
 
 (killed by a rifle-ball at Alterkirchen on the last day of the 
 fourth year of the French republic) still remains as described. 
 
 The inscriptions on his monument are rather too long, and 
 not required : his name was enough ; France adored, and her 
 enemies admired; both wept over him. — His funeral was at- 
 tended by the generals and detachments from both armies. Iii 
 the same grave General Hoche is interred, a gallant man also 
 in every sense of the word, but though he distinguished him- 
 self greatly in battle, he had not the good fortune to die there ; 
 his death was attended by suspicions of poison. 
 
 A separate monument (not over his body, which is buried by 
 Marceau's) is raised for him near Andernach, opposite to which 
 one of his most memorable exploits wag performed, in throwing 
 a bridge to an island on the Rhine. The shape and style are 
 diflerent from that of Marceau's, and the inscription more sim- 
 ple and pleasing. 
 
 *' The Army of the Sambre and Meuse 
 
 " to its Commander in Chief 
 
 " Hoche." 
 
 This is all, and as it should be. Hoche was esteemed among 
 the first of France's earlier generals before Buonaparte mono- 
 polized her triumphs. — He was the destined commander of the 
 invading army of Ireland. 
 
 Note 13, page 34, line 1. 
 Here Ehrenbreitstein, with her shattered ivall. 
 Ehrenbreitstein, i. e. " the broad Stone of Honour," one of 
 the strongest fortresses in Europe, was dismantled and blown 
 up by the French at the truce of Leoben.— It had been and 
 
7:3 NOTES. 
 
 could only be reduced by famine or treachery. It yielded to the 
 former, aided by surprise. After having seen the fortifications 
 of Gibraltar and Malta, it did not much strike by comparison, 
 but the situation is commanding. General Marceau besieged 
 it in vain for some time, and 1 slept in a roqm where I was 
 shown a window at which he is said to have been standing 
 observing the progress of the siege by moonlight, when a ball 
 struck immediately below it. 
 
 Note 14, page 36, line last. 
 Unsepulchred they roam'dy and shrieTc'd each tuandering ghost. 
 The chapel is destroyed, and the pyramid of bones diminished 
 to a small number by the Burgundian legion in the service of 
 France, who anxiously effaced this record of their ancestors' less 
 successful invasions. A few still remain notwithstanding the 
 pains taken by the Burgundians for ages, (all who passed that 
 way removing a bone to their own country) and the less justi- 
 fiable larcenies of the Swiss postillions, who carried them off to 
 sell for knife-handles, a purpose for which the whiteness im- 
 bibed by the bleaching of years had rendered them in great 
 request. Of these relics I ventured to bring away as much as 
 may have made the quarter of a hero, for which the sole excuse 
 is, that if I had not, the next passer by might have perverted 
 them to worse uses than the careful preservation which I intend 
 for them. 
 
 Note 15, page Z7, line last. 
 LevelM Aventicum hath strewed her subject lands. 
 Aventicum (near Morat) was the Roman capital of Helvetia, 
 where Avenches now stands. 
 
NOTES. «3fS 
 
 Note 16, page 38, line 9. 
 And held tvithin their urn one mind, one heart, one dust. 
 Julia Alpinula, a young Aventian priestess, died soon after a 
 vain endeavour to save her father, condemned to death as a trai- 
 tor by Aulus Caecina. Her epitaph was discovered many years 
 ago ;^it is thus — 
 
 Julia Alpinula 
 
 Hie jaceo 
 
 Infelicis patris, infelix proles 
 
 Deae Aventiae Sacerdos ; 
 
 Exorare patris necem non potui 
 
 Male mori in fatis ille erat. 
 
 Vixi annos XXIII. 
 
 • T know of no human composition so affecting as this, nor a 
 history of deeper interest. These are the names and actions 
 which ought not to perish, and to which we turn with a true 
 and healthy tenderness, from the wretched and glittering detail 
 of a confused mass of conquests and battles, with which the 
 mind is roused for a time to a false and feverish sympathy, from 
 whence it recurs at length with all the nausea consequent on 
 such intoxication. 
 
 Note 17, page 38, line 17. 
 In the sun^sface, like yonder Alpine snoiv. 
 This is written in the eye of Mont Blanc (June 3d, 181 6) 
 which even at this distance dazzles mine. 
 
 (July 20th.) I this day observed for some time the distinct 
 
ff4i NOTES. 
 
 reflection of Mont Blanc and Mont Argentiere in the calm of 
 the lake, which I was crossing in my boat j the distance of these 
 mountains from their mirror is 60 miles. 
 
 Note 18, page 40, line 12. 
 By the blue rushing of the arroixiy Rhone. 
 The colour of the Rhone at Geneva is blue, to a depth of 
 tint which I have never seen equalled in water, salt or fresh, 
 except in the Mediterranean and Archipelago. 
 
 Note 19, page 44, line last. 
 Than vulgar minds may be ivith all they seek possest. 
 This refers to the account in his " Confessions" of his pas- 
 sion for the Comtesse d'Houdetot (the mistress of St. Lambert) 
 and his long walk every morning for the sake of the single kiss 
 which was the common salutation of French acquaintance. — 
 Rousseau's description of his feelings on this occasion may be 
 considered as the most passionate, yet not impure description 
 and expression of love that ever kindled into words ; which after 
 all must be felt, from their very force, to be inadequate to the 
 delineation : a painting can give no sufficient idea of the ocean. 
 
 Note 20, page 50, line 12. 
 Of earth-o' ergazing mountains, and thus take. 
 It is to be recollected, that the most beautiful and impressive 
 doctrines of the divine Founder of Christianity were delivered, 
 not in the Temple, but on the Mount, 
 
 To wave the question of devotion, and turn to human elo- 
 quence, — the most effectual and splendid specimens were not 
 
NOTES. 751 
 
 pronounced within walls. Demosthenes addressed the public 
 and popular assemblies. Cicero spoke in the forum. That this 
 added to their eiFect on the mind of both orator and hearers, 
 may be conceived from the difference between what we read of 
 the emotions then and there produced, and those we ourselves 
 experience in the perusal in the closet. It is one thing to read 
 the Iliad at Sigaeum and on the tumuli, or by the springs with 
 mount Ida above, and the plain and rivers and Archipelago 
 around you : and another to trim your taper over it in a simg 
 library— this I know. 
 
 Were the early and rapid progress of what is called Me- 
 thodism to be attributed to any cause beyond the enthusiasm 
 excited by its vehement faith and doctrines (the truth or error 
 of which I presume neither to canvas nor to question) I should 
 venture to ascribe it to the practice of preaching in the. fields, 
 and the unstudied and extemporaneous effusions of its teachers. 
 
 The Mussulmans, whose erroneous devotion (at least in the 
 lower orders) is most sincere, and therefore impressive, are ac- 
 customed to repeat their prescribed orisons and prayers where- 
 ever they may be at the stated hours — of course frequently in 
 the open air, kneeling upon -a light mat (which they carry for 
 the purpose of a bed or cushion as required) ; the ceremony 
 lasts some minutes, during which they are totally absorbed, and 
 only living in their supplication ; nothing can disturb them. 
 On me the simple and entire sincerity of these men, and the 
 spirit which appeared to be within and upon them, made a far 
 greater impression than any general rite which was ever per^' 
 formed in places of worship, of which I have seen those -of al- 
 most every persuasion under the sun : "including most of QUr 
 
•J^ NOTES. 
 
 own sectaries^ and the Greek, the Catholic, the Armenian, the 
 Lutheran, the Jewish, and the Mahometan, Many of the 
 negroes, of whom there are numbers in the Turkish empire, are 
 idolaters, and have free exercise of their belief and its rites : 
 some of these I had a distant view of at Patras, and from what 
 I could make out of them, they appeared to be of a truly Pagan 
 description, and not very agreeable to a spectator. 
 
 Note 21, page 51, line l. 
 
 The sky is changed! — and such a change ! Oh nights 
 
 The thunder-storms to which these lines refer occurred on the 
 
 13 th of June, 181 6, at midnight. I have seen among the Acro- 
 
 ceraunian mountains of Chimari several more terrible, but none 
 
 more beautiful. 
 
 Note 22, page 54, line 14. 
 And sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought. 
 
 Rousseau's Heloise, Lettre 17, pa.rt 4, note. " Ces mon- 
 '' tagnes spnt si hautes qu'une demi-heure apres le soleil 
 '' couche, leurs sommets sont encore eclaires de ses rayons ; 
 *' dont le rouge forme sur ces cimes blanches une belle couleur de 
 " rose qu'on a})per5oit de fort loin." 
 
 This applies more particularly to the heights over MeiUerie. 
 
 " J'allai h Vevay loger a la Clef, et pendant deux jours que 
 '' j'y restai sans voir personne, je pris pour cette ville un amour 
 '' qui m'a suivi dans tons mes voyages, et qui m'y a fait etablir 
 " enfin les h^ros de mon roman. Je dirois volontiers h ceux 
 " qui ontdu goM et qui sont sensibles : allez ^ Vevai — ^visitez le 
 " p»y8, examinez les sifes, promenez-vous sur le lac, et dites si 
 
NOTES. 77 
 
 '^ la Nature n'a pas fait ce beau pays pour une Julie, pourune 
 " Claire et pour un St. Preuxj mais ne les y cherchez pas." 
 Les Confessions, livre iv. page 306. Lyons ed. i79Q- 
 
 In July^ 1816, I made a voyage round the Lake of Geneva) 
 and, as far as my own observations have led me in a not unin- 
 terested nor inattentive survey of a^'. the scenes most celebrated 
 by Rousseau in his " Heloise,'' I can safely say, that in this 
 there is no exaggeration. It would be difficult to see Clarens 
 (with the scenes around it, Vevay, Chillon, Boveret, St. Gingo, 
 Meillerie, Erian, and the entrances of the Ilhone), without being 
 forcibly struck with it's peculiar adaptation to the persons and 
 events with which it has been peopled. But this is not all ) the 
 feeling with which all around Clarens, and the opposite rocks 
 of Meillerie is invested, is of a still higher and niore compre- 
 hensive order than the mere sympathy with individual passion ; 
 it is a sense of the existence of love in its most extended and 
 sublime capacity, and of our own participation of its good and 
 of its glory : it is the great principle of the universe, which is 
 there more condensed, but not less manifested ; and of which, 
 though knowing ourselves a part, we lose our individuality, and 
 mingle in the beauty of the whole. 
 
 If Rousseau had never written, nor lived, the same associa- 
 tions would not less have belonged to such scenes. He has 
 added to the interest of his works by their adoption ; he has 
 shewn his sense of their beauty by the selection ; but they have 
 done that for him which no human being could do for them. 
 
 I had the fortune (good or evil as it might be) to sail from 
 Meillerie (where we landed for some time), to St. Gingo during 
 a lake storm, which added to the magnificence of all around. 
 
^ NOTES. 
 
 although occasionally accompanied by danger to the boat, which 
 was small and overloaded. By a coincidence which I could not 
 regret, it was over this very part of the lake that Roiisseau has 
 driven the boat of St. Preux and Madame Wolmar to Meillerie 
 for shelter during a tempest. 
 
 On gaining the shore at St. Gingo, we found that the wind 
 had been sufficiently strong to blow down some fine old chesnut 
 trees on the lower part of the mountains. On the height is a 
 seat called the Chateau de Clarens, The hills are covered with 
 vineyards, and interspersed with some small but beautiful woods ; 
 one of these was named the '* Bosquet de Julie," and it is re- 
 markable that, though long ago cut down by the brutal selfish- 
 ness of the monks of St. Bernard, (to whom the land apper- 
 tained), that, the ground might be inclosed into a vineyard for 
 the miserable drones of an execrable superstition, the inhabit- 
 ants of Clarens still po4nt out the spot where its trees stood, 
 calling it by the name which consecrated and survived them. 
 
 Rousseau has not been particularly fortunate in the preserva- 
 tion of the " local habitations" he has given to " airy nothings." 
 The Prior of Great St. Bernard has cut down some of his woods 
 for the sake of a few casks of wine, and Buonaparte has levelled 
 part of the rocks of Meillerie in improving the road to the 
 Simplon. The road is an excellent one, but 1 cannot quite 
 agree with a remark which I heard made, that " La route vaut 
 " mieux que les souvenirs," 
 
 Note 23, page 57, line 10. 
 Lausanne ! and Ferney ! ye have been the abodes. 
 Voltaire and Gibbon. 
 
NOTES. 79 
 
 Note 24, page 6l, line last. 
 Had I not filed my mind, ixhich thus itself subdued. 
 
 '■ ^— " If it be thus, 
 
 " For Banquo's issue have 1 filed my mind." 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 Note 25, page 62, line 7. 
 O^er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve. 
 It is said by Rochefoucault that " there is altvays something 
 " in the misfortunes of men's best friends not displeasing to 
 '' them." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 T. Daviaon, Lombard-street, 
 Whitefriars , London. 
 
LIST OF THE POEMS 
 
 OF THE 
 
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