No More Learning

]


[Variant 96:

1836.

Above . . . 1793. ]


[Variant 97:

1815.

. . . silvery . . . 1793. ]


[Variant 98:

1815.

. . . golden . . . 1793. ]


[Variant 99:

1836.

The deepest dell the mountain's breast displays, 1793.

. . . the mountain's front . . . 1820. ]


[Variant 100:

1836.

The scene is waken'd, yet its peace unbroke,
By silver'd wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke,
That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood,
Steal down the hills, and spread along the flood. 1793. ]



[Variant 101:

1836.

All air is, as the sleeping water, still,
List'ning th' aereal music of the hill, 1793.

Air listens, as the sleeping water still,
To catch the spiritual music of the hill, 1832. ]


[Variant 102:

1836.

Soon follow'd by his hollow-parting oar,
And echo'd hoof approaching the far shore; 1793. ]


[Variant 103:

1836.

. . . the feeding . . . 1793. ]


[Variant 104:

1836.

The tremulous sob of the complaining owl; 1793. ]


* * * * *


FOOTNOTES ON VARIANTS (Sub-Footnotes)


[Sub-Footnote i: These rude structures, to protect the flocks, are
frequent in this country: the traveller may recollect one in Withburne,
another upon Whinlatter. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Sub-Footnote ii: Not far from Broughton is a Druid monument, of which I
do not recollect that any tour descriptive of this country makes
mention. Perhaps this poem may fall into the hands of some curious
traveller, who may thank me for informing him, that up the Duddon, the
river which forms the aestuary at Broughton, may be found some of the
most romantic scenery of these mountains. --W. W. 1793.

This circle is at the top of Swinside, a glen about four miles from
Broughton. It consists of 50 stones, 90 yards in circumference; and is
on the fell, which is part of the range terminating in Black
Combe. --Ed. ]


[Sub-Footnote iii: The lily of the valley is found in great abundance in
the smaller islands of Winandermere. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Sub-Footnote iv: In the 1793 edition this line reads "Asleep on
Minden's charnel plain afar. " The 'errata', list inserted in some copies
of that edition gives "Bunker's charnel hill. "--Ed. ]


[Sub-Footnote v: Sugh, a Scotch word, expressive, as Mr. Gilpin explains
it, of the sound of the motion of a stick through the air, or of the
wind passing through the trees. See Burns' 'Cottar's Saturday
Night'. --W. W. 1793.

The line is in stanza ii. , l. 1:

November chill blaws loud, wi' angry sugh. --Ed. ]


[Sub-Footnote vi: This long passage occupies, in the edition of 1793,
the place of lines 297-314 in the final text given above. --Ed. ]


[Sub-Footnote vii:

"So break those glittering shadows, human joys"

(YOUNG). --W. W. 1793.

The line occurs 'Night V, The Complaint', l. 1042, or l. 27 from the
end. --Ed. ]


[Sub-Footnote viii:

"Charming the night-calm with her powerful song. "

A line of one of our older poets. --W. W. 1793.

This line I have been unable to discover, but see Webster and Dekker in
'Westward Hoe', iv. c.

"Charms with her excellent voice an awful silence through all this
building. "

Ed. ]



* * * * *


FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT


[Footnote A: See note to the "Juvenile Pieces" in the edition of 1836
(p. 1). --Ed. ]


[Footnote B: It may not be irrelevant to mention that our late poet,
Robert Browning, besought me--both in conversation, and by letter--to
restore this "discarded" picture, in editing 'Dion'. --Ed. ]


[Footnote C: These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that
lake. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Footnote D: In the beginning of winter, these mountains, in the
moonlight nights, are covered with immense quantities of woodcocks;
which, in the dark nights, retire into the woods. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Footnote E: The word 'intake' is local, and signifies a
mountain-inclosure. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Footnote F: Gill is also, I believe, a term confined to this country.
Glen, gill, and dingle, have the same meaning. --W. W. 1793.

The spelling "Ghyll" is first used in the edition of 1820 in the text.
In the note to that edition it remains "gill". In 1827 the spelling in
the note was "ghyll. "--Ed. ]


[Footnote G: Compare Dr. John Brown:

Not a passing breeze
Sigh'd to the grove, which in the midnight air
Stood motionless, and in the peaceful floods
Inverted hung.

and see note A to page 31. --Ed. [Footnote U of this poem]]


[Footnote H: This line was first inserted in the edition of 1845. In the
following line, the edition of 1793 has

Save that, atop, the subtle . . .

Subsequent editions previous to 1845 have

Save that aloft . . .

Ed. ]


[Footnote J: The reader, who has made the tour of this country, will
recognize, in this description, the features which characterize the
lower waterfall in the gardens of Rydale. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Footnote K:

"Vivid rings of green. "

Greenwood's Poem on Shooting. --W. W. 1793.

The title is 'A Poem written during a Shooting Excursion on the Moors'.
It was published by Cruttwell at Bath in 1787, 4to, pp. 25. The
quotation is from stanza xvi. , l. 11. --Ed. ]


[Footnote L:

"Down the rough slope the pondrous waggon rings. "

BEATTIE. --W. W.

1793. See 'The Minstrel', stanza xxxix. , l. 4. --Ed. ]


[Footnote M:

"Dolcemente feroce. "

TASSO. In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of
the same animal in the 'L'Agriculture ou Les Georgiques Francoises', of
M. Rossuet. --W. W. 1793. ]


[Footnote N: I am unable to trace this quotation. --Ed. ]


[Footnote P: From Thomson: see Scott's 'Critical Essays'. --W. W. 1793.

It is difficult to know to what Wordsworth here alludes, but compare
'The Seasons', "Summer," l. 1467.

and now a golden curve,
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. --Ed. ]


[Footnote Q: See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's
'Survey of the Lakes', accompanied with vouchers of its veracity, that
may amuse the reader. --W. W. 1793.

The passage in Clark's folio volume, 'A Survey of the Lakes', etc. ,
which suggested to Wordsworth the above lines in the 'Evening Walk', is
to be found in chapter i. of the second book, p. 55. It gives a weird
account of the appearance of horsemen being exercised in troops upon

"Southen-fell side, as seen on the 25th of June 1744 by William
Lancaster of Blakehills, and a farm servant, David Strichet:

"These visionary horsemen seemed to come from the lowest part of
Southen-fell, and became visible just at a place called Knott. They
then moved in regular troops along the side of the fell, till they
came opposite Blakehills, when they went over the mountain. Then they
described a kind of curvilinear path upon the side of the fell, and
both these first and last appearances were bounded by the top of the
mountain.

"Frequently the last, or last but one, in a troop would leave his
place, and gallop to the front, and then take the same pace with the
rest--a regular swift walk. Thus changes happened to every troop (for
many troops appeared) and oftener than once or twice, yet not at all
times alike. . . . Nor was this phenomenon seen at Blakehill only, it was
seen by every person at every cottage within the distance of a mile.
Neither was it confined to a momentary view, for from the time that
Strichet first observed it, the appearance must have lasted at least
two hours and a half, viz. from half past seven till the night coming
on prevented further view. "

This interesting optical illusion--which suggests the wonderful island
in the Atlantic, seen from the isles of Aran near Galway, alluded to in
the 'Chorographical description of West, or H-Ier-Connaught', of R.
O'Flaherty--was caused by the peculiar angle of the light from the
setting sun, the reflection of the water of the Solway, and the
refraction of the vapour and clouds above the Solway. These aerial and
visionary horsemen were being exercised somewhere above the
Kirkcudbright shore. It was not the first time the phenomenon had been
seen within historic times, on the same fell-side, and at the same time
of year. Canon Rawnsley writes to me,

"I have an idea that the fact that it took place at midsummer eve
(June 27), the eve of the Feast of St.
John, upon which occasion the
shepherds hereabout used to light bonfires on the hills (no doubt a
relic of the custom of the Beltane fires of old Norse days, perhaps of
earlier sun-worship festivals of British times), may have had
something to do with the naming of the mountain Blencathara of which
Southen-fell (or Shepherd's-fell, as the name implies) is part.
Blencathara, we are told, may mean the Hill of Demons, or the haunted
hill. My suggestion is that the old sun-worshippers, who met in
midsummer eve on Castrigg at the Druid circle or Donn-ring, saw just
the same phenomenon as Strichet and Lancaster saw upon Southen-fell,
and hence the name. Nay, perhaps the Druid circle was built where it
is, because it was well in view of the Demon Hill. "

Ed. ]


[Footnote R: This is a fact of which I have been an eye-witness. --W. W.
1793. ]


[Footnote S: The quotation is from Collins' 'The Passions', l. 60.
Compare 'Personal Talk', l. 26. --Ed. ]


[Footnote T: Alluding to this passage of Spenser:

. . . Her angel face
As the great eye of Heaven shined bright,
And made a sunshine in that shady place. W. W. 1793.

This passage is in 'The Fairy Queen', book I. canto iii. stanza 4. --Ed. ]


[Footnote U: Compare Dr. John Brown:

But the soft murmur of swift-gushing rills,
Forth issuing from the mountain's distant steep
(Unheard till now, and now scarce heard), proclaim'd
All things at rest.

This Dr. John Brown--a singularly versatile English divine
(1717-1766)--was one of the first, as Wordsworth pointed put, to lead
the way to a true estimate of the English Lakes. His description of the
Vale of Keswick, in a letter to a friend, is as fine as anything in
Gray's 'Journal'. Wordsworth himself quotes the lines given in this
footnote in the first section of his 'Guide through the District of the
Lakes'. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





LINES WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING


Composed 1789. --Published 1798


[This title is scarcely correct. It was during a solitary walk on the
banks of the Cam that I was first struck with this appearance, and
applied it to my own feelings in the manner here expressed, changing
the scene to the Thames, near Windsor. This, and the three stanzas of
the following poem, 'Remembrance of Collins', formed one piece; but,
upon the recommendation of Coleridge, the three last stanzas were
separated from the other. --I. F. ]

The title of the poem in 1798, when it consisted of five stanzas, was
'Lines written near Richmond, upon the Thames, at Evening'. When, in the
edition of 1800, it was divided, the title of the first part was, 'Lines
written when sailing in a Boat at Evening'; that of the second part was
'Lines written near Richmond upon the Thames'.

From 1815 to 1843, both poems were placed by Wordsworth among those "of
Sentiment and Reflection. " In 1845 they were transferred to "Poems
written in Youth. "--Ed.


* * * * *

THE POEM


How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues, [1]
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course [2] pursues!
And see how dark the backward stream! 5
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterers [3] beguiling.

Such views the youthful Bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom, 10
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.
--And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet, 15
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT


[Variant 1:

1815.

How rich the wave, in front, imprest
With evening-twilight's summer hues, 1798. ]


[Variant 2:

1802.

. . . path . . . 1798. ]


[Variant 3:

1815.

. . . loiterer . . . 1798. ]





* * * * *





REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS


COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND [A]


Composed 1789. --Published 1798


* * * * *


Glide gently, thus for ever glide,[B]
O Thames! that other bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
As now, fair river! come to me.
O glide, fair stream! for ever so, 5
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Vain thought! --Yet be as now thou art,
That in thy waters may be seen 10
The image of a poet's heart,
How bright, how solemn, how serene!
Such as did once the Poet bless, [1]
Who murmuring here a later [C] ditty, [2]
Could find no refuge from distress 15
But in the milder grief of pity.

Now let us, as we float along, [3]
For _him_ [4] suspend the dashing oar; [D]
And pray that never child of song
May know that Poet's sorrows more. [5] 20
How calm! how still! the only sound,
The dripping of the oar suspended!
--The evening darkness gathers round
By virtue's holiest Powers attended.



* * * * *


VARIANTS ON THE TEXT


[Variant 1:

1800.

Such heart did once the poet bless, 1798. ]


[Variant 2:

1815.

Who, pouring here a _later_ [i] ditty, 1798. ]


[Variant 3:

1802.

Remembrance, as we glide along, 1798.

. . . float . . . 1800. ]


[Variant 4:

1802.

For him . . . 1798. ]


[Variant 5:

1802.

May know his freezing sorrows more. 1798. ]


[Sub-Footnote i: The italics only occur in the editions of 1798 and
1800. --Ed. ]



* * * * *


FOOTNOTES TO THE TEXT


[Footnote A: The title in the editions 1802-1815 was 'Remembrance of
Collins, written upon the Thames near Richmond'. --Ed. ]


[Footnote B: Compare the 'After-thought' to "The River Duddon. A Series
of Sonnets":

Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide.

Ed. ]


[Footnote C: Collins's 'Ode on the Death of Thomson', the last written,
I believe, of the poems which were published during his life-time. This
Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza. --W. W. 1798. ]


[Footnote D: Compare Collins's 'Ode on the Death of Thomson', 'The Scene
on the Thames near Richmond':

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest.
And oft suspend the dashing oar
To bid his gentle spirit rest.

As Mr. Dowden suggests, the _him_ was probably italicised by Wordsworth,
"because the oar is suspended not for Thomson but for Collins. " The
italics were first used in the edition of 1802. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS


Composed 1791-2. [A]--Published 1793


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

DEAR SIR, [B]--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
circumstance of our having been companions among the Alps, seemed to
give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples
which your modesty might otherwise have suggested. [C]

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 knapsack of necessaries upon his
shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter!

I am happy in being conscious that 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
Bethgelert, 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 assuring you with how much affection and esteem

I am, dear Sir,
Most sincerely yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.

LONDON, 1793.


[Much the greatest part of this poem was composed during my walks upon
the banks of the Loire, in the years 1791, 1792. I will only notice
that the description of the valley filled with mist, beginning--'In
solemn shapes'--was taken from that beautiful region of which the
principal features are Lungarn and Sarnen. Nothing that I ever saw in
Nature left a more delightful impression on my mind than that which I
have attempted, alas, how feebly! to convey to others in these lines.
Those two lakes have always interested me especially, from bearing in
their size and other features, a resemblance to those of the North of
England. It is much to be deplored that a district so beautiful should
be so unhealthy as it is. --I. F. ]

As the original text of the 'Descriptive Sketches' is printed in
Appendix I. (p. 309) to this volume--with all the notes to that edition
of 1793--it is not quoted in the footnotes to the final text in the
pages which follow, except in cases which will justify themselves.
Therefore the various readings which follow begin with the edition of
1815, which was, however, a mere fragment of the original text. Almost
the whole of the poem of 1793 was reproduced in 1820, but there were
many alterations of the text in that edition, and in those of 1827,
1832, 1836 and 1845. Wordsworth's own footnotes here reproduced are
those which he retained in the edition of 1849.

'Descriptive Sketches' was ranked among the "Juvenile Pieces" from 1815
onwards: but in 1836 it was put in a class by itself along with the
'Female Vagrant'. [D]--Ed.

'Happiness (if she had been to be found on earth) among 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; its voluptuous
Character; Old man and forest-cottage music--River Tusa--Via Mala and
Grison Gipsy--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 its
pilgrims--Valley of Chamouny--Mont Blanc--Slavery of Savoy--Influence of
liberty on cottage-happiness--France--Wish for the Extirpation of
slavery--Conclusion'.


* * * * *

THE POEM


Were there, below, a spot of holy ground
Where from distress a refuge might be found,
And solitude prepare the soul for heaven;
Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given [1]
Where falls the purple morning far and wide 5
In flakes of light upon the mountain-side;
Where with loud voice the power of water shakes [2]
The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes.

Yet not unrecompensed the man shall roam,
Who at the call of summer quits his home, 10
And plods through some wide realm o'er vale and height,
Though seeking only holiday delight; [3]
At least, not owning to himself an aim
To which the sage would give a prouder name. [4]
No gains too cheaply earned his fancy cloy, 15
Though every passing zephyr whispers joy;
Brisk toil, alternating with ready ease,
Feeds the clear current of his sympathies. [5]
For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn;
And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn! 20
Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head,
And dear the velvet green-sward to his tread: [6]
Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye?
Upward he looks--"and calls it luxury:" [E]
Kind Nature's charities his steps attend; 25
In every babbling brook he finds a friend;
While [7] chastening thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed
By wisdom, moralise his pensive road.
Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bower,
To his spare meal he calls the passing poor; 30
He views the sun uplift his golden fire,
Or sink, with heart alive like Memnon's lyre; [F]
Blesses the moon that comes with kindly ray,
To light him shaken by his rugged way. [8]
Back from his sight no bashful children steal; 35
He sits a brother at the cottage-meal; [9]
His humble looks no shy restraint impart;
Around him plays at will the virgin heart.
While unsuspended wheels the village dance,
The maidens eye him with enquiring glance, 40
Much wondering by what fit of crazing care,
Or desperate love, bewildered, he came there. [10]

A hope, that prudence could not then approve,
That clung to Nature with a truant's love,
O'er Gallia's wastes of corn my footsteps led; 45
Her files of road-elms, high above my head
In long-drawn vista, rustling in the breeze;
Or where her pathways straggle as they please
By lonely farms and secret villages.
But lo! the Alps ascending white in air, [11] 50
Toy with the sun and glitter from afar.

And now, emerging from the forest's gloom,
I greet thee, Chartreuse, while I mourn thy doom.
Whither is fled that Power whose frown severe
Awed sober Reason till she crouched in fear? [12] 55
_That_ Silence, once in deathlike fetters bound,
Chains that were loosened only by the sound
Of holy rites chanted in measured round? [13]

--The voice of blasphemy the fane alarms,
The cloister startles at the gleam of arms. [14] 60
The [15] thundering tube the aged angler hears, [G]
Bent o'er the groaning flood that sweeps away his tears. [16]
Cloud-piercing pine-trees nod their troubled heads, [17]
Spires, rocks, and lawns a browner night o'erspreads;
Strong terror checks the female peasant's sighs, 65
And start the astonished shades at female eyes.
From Bruno's forest screams the affrighted jay,
And slow the insulted eagle wheels away.
A viewless flight of laughing Demons mock
The Cross, by angels planted [H] on the aerial rock. [18] 70
The "parting Genius" [J] sighs with hollow breath
Along the mystic streams of Life and Death. [K]
Swelling the outcry dull, that long resounds
Portentous through her old woods' trackless bounds,
Vallombre, [L] 'mid her falling fanes deplores 75
For ever broke, the sabbath of her bowers.

More pleased, my foot the hidden margin roves
Of Como, bosomed deep in chestnut groves.
No meadows thrown between, the giddy steeps
Tower, bare or sylvan, from the narrow deeps. 80
--To towns, whose shades of no rude noise [19] complain,
From ringing team apart [20] and grating wain--
To flat-roofed towns, that touch the water's bound,
Or lurk in woody sunless glens profound,
Or, from the bending rocks, obtrusive cling, 85
And o'er the whitened wave their shadows fling--
The pathway leads, as round the steeps it twines; [21]
And Silence loves its purple roof of vines.
The loitering traveller [22] hence, at evening, sees
From rock-hewn steps the sail between the trees; 90
Or marks, 'mid opening cliffs, fair dark-eyed maids
Tend the small harvest of their garden glades;
Or stops the solemn mountain-shades to view
Stretch o'er the pictured mirror broad and blue,
And track the yellow lights from steep to steep, 95
As up the opposing hills they slowly creep. [23]
Aloft, here, half a village shines, arrayed
In golden light; [24] half hides itself in shade:
While, from amid the darkened roofs, the spire,
Restlessly flashing, seems to mount like fire: [25] 100
There, all unshaded, blazing forests throw
Rich golden verdure on the lake [26] below.
Slow glides the sail along the illumined shore,
And steals into the shade the lazy oar;
Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs, 105
And amorous music on the water dies.

How blest, delicious scene! the eye that greets
Thy open beauties, or thy lone retreats;
Beholds the unwearied sweep of wood that scales
Thy cliffs; the endless waters of thy vales; [27] 110
Thy lowly cots that sprinkle all the shore, [28]
Each with its [29] household boat beside the door;
[30] Thy torrents shooting from the clear-blue sky;
Thy towns, that cleave, like swallows' nests, on high; [31]
That glimmer hoar in eve's last light descried 115
Dim from the twilight water's shaggy side,
Whence lutes and voices down the enchanted woods
Steal, and compose the oar-forgotten floods;
[32]--Thy lake, that, streaked or dappled, blue or grey,
'Mid smoking woods gleams hid from morning's ray [33] 120
Slow-travelling down the western hills, to' enfold [34]
Its green-tinged margin in a blaze of gold;
Thy glittering steeples, whence the matin bell
Calls forth the woodman from his desert cell,
And quickens the blithe sound of oars that pass 125
Along the steaming lake, to early mass. [35]
But now farewell to each and all--adieu
To every charm, and last and chief to you, [36]
Ye lovely maidens that in noontide shade
Rest near your little plots of wheaten glade; [37] 130
To all that binds [38] the soul in powerless trance,
Lip-dewing song, and ringlet-tossing dance;
Where sparkling eyes and breaking smiles illume
The sylvan cabin's lute-enlivened gloom.
--Alas! the very murmur of the streams 135
Breathes 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 on Como's marge,
And lures [39] from bay to bay the vocal barge. 140

Yet are thy softer arts with power indued
To soothe and cheer the poor man's solitude.
By silent cottage-doors, the peasant's home
Left vacant for the day, I loved to roam. [40]
But once I pierced the mazes of a wood 145
In which a cabin undeserted stood; [41]
There an old man an olden measure scanned
On a rude viol touched with withered hand. [42]
As lambs or fawns in April clustering lie [43]
Under a hoary oak's thin canopy, 150
Stretched at his feet, with stedfast upward eye,
His children's children listened to the sound; [44]
--A Hermit with his family around!

But let us hence; for fair Locarno smiles
Embowered in walnut slopes and citron isles: 155
Or seek at eve the banks of Tusa's stream,
Where, [45] 'mid dim towers and woods, her [M] waters gleam.
From the bright wave, in solemn gloom, retire
The dull-red steeps, and, darkening still, aspire
To where afar rich orange lustres glow 160
Round undistinguished clouds, and rocks, and snow:
Or, led where Via Mala's chasms confine
The indignant waters of the infant Rhine,
Hang o'er the abyss, whose else impervious gloom [46]
His burning eyes with fearful light illume. 165

The mind condemned, without reprieve, to go
O'er life's long deserts with its charge of woe,
With sad congratulation joins the train
Where beasts and men together o'er the plain
Move on--a mighty caravan of pain: 170
Hope, strength, and courage, social suffering brings,
Freshening the wilderness with shades and springs.
--There be whose lot far otherwise is cast:
Sole human tenant of the piny waste, [47]
By choice or doom a gipsy wanders here, 175
A nursling babe her only comforter;
Lo, where she sits beneath yon shaggy rock,
A cowering shape half hid in curling smoke! [48]

When lightning among clouds and mountain-snows
Predominates, and darkness comes and goes, 180
And the fierce torrent, at the flashes broad
Starts, like a horse, beside the glaring road--
She seeks a covert from the battering shower
In the roofed bridge [N]; the bridge, in that dread hour,
Itself all trembling at the torrent's power. [49] 185

Nor is she more at ease on some _still_ night,
When not a star supplies the comfort of its light;
Only the waning moon hangs dull and red
Above a melancholy mountain's head,
Then sets. In total gloom the Vagrant sighs, 190
Stoops her sick head, and shuts her weary eyes;
Or on her fingers counts the distant clock,
Or, to the drowsy crow of midnight cock,
Listens, or quakes while from the forest's gulf
Howls near and nearer yet the famished wolf. [50] 195

From the green vale of Urseren smooth and wide
Descend we now, the maddened Reuss our guide; [51]
By rocks that, shutting out the blessed day,
Cling tremblingly to rocks as loose as they;
By cells [P] upon whose image, while he prays, 200
The kneeling peasant scarcely dares to gaze;
By many a votive death-cross [Q] planted near,
And watered duly with the pious tear,
That faded silent from the upward eye
Unmoved with each rude form of peril nigh; [52] 205
Fixed on the anchor left by Him who saves
Alike in whelming snows, and roaring waves.

But soon a peopled region on the sight
Opens--a little world of calm delight; [53]
Where mists, suspended on the expiring gale, 210
Spread roof like o'er the deep secluded vale, [54]
And beams of evening slipping in between,
Gently illuminate a sober scene:--[55]
Here, on the brown wood-cottages [R] they sleep, [56]
There, over rock or sloping pasture creep. [57] 215
On as we journey, in clear view displayed,
The still vale lengthens underneath its shade
Of low-hung vapour: on the freshened mead
The green light sparkles;--the dim bowers recede. [58]
While pastoral pipes and streams the landscape lull, 220
And bells of passing mules that tinkle dull,
In solemn shapes before the admiring eye
Dilated hang the misty pines on high,
Huge convent domes with pinnacles and towers,
And antique castles seen through gleamy [59] showers.