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And for the lovely maids alternate burns, Runs through the thirsty springs of fairyland. As love and friendship take their sway by Level and green the downward region lies, turns.

And low the ceiling of the fairy skies ; Ah! hapless day, that from this blest retreat Self-kindled gems a richer light display Lur'd to the town his slow, unwilling feet ! Than gilds the earth, but not a purer day. Yet, soon return'd, he seeks the green recess, Resplendent crystal forms the palace-wall; Wraps the dear rivals in a fond caress; The diamond'strembling lustre lights the hall. As heaving bosoms own responsive bliss, Butwheresoft emeraldsshed an umber'd light, He breathes infection in one melting kiss ; Beside each coal-black courser sleepsaknight; Their languid limbs he bears to Dena’sstrand, A raven plume waves o'er each helmet crest, Chafes each soft temple with his burning And black the mail which binds each manly hand.

breast, Their cheeks to his the grateful virgins raise, Girt with broad faulchion, and with bugle And fondly bless him as their life decays ;

greenWhile o'er their forms he bends with tearful Ah! could a mortal trust the fairy queen! eye,

From mortal lips an earthly accent fell, And only lives to hear their latest sigh. And Rymour's tongueconfess'd the numbing A real of leaves the redbreast o'er them threw, spell : Ere thrice their locks were wet with evening In iron sleep the minstrel lies forlorn, dew.

Who breath'd a sound before he blew the horn, There the blue ring-dove coos with ruffling His description of the spectre-ship,

wing, And sweeter there the throstle loves to sing; Scott in his notes to Rokeby, but un

which has been praised by Walter The woodlark breathes in softer strain the luckily far surpassed by a picture of

FOW ; And love's soft burthen flies from bough to the same superstition in the poem itbough.

self, is perhaps the best thing Leyden Leyden wrote an historical essay on

ever wrote. It has two or three picfairy superstition—but we cannot see

turesque lines; yet, after all, the said much beauty in the following descrip; but little different from one of bis

ship, with its crew of ghosts, seems tion of fairy-land. It wants the wild touches of the Ettrick Shepherd.

Majesty's vessels with her usual comBy every thom along the woodland damp, pliment of men and boys. There is The tiny glow-worm lights her emerald lamp, nothing of that spirit of superstitious Like the shot-star, whose yet unquenched fear thrown over it that attends the light

ship in which Coleridge's Ancient MaSauds with faint gleam the raven vest of night. riner drives along through the snowThe fairy ring-dance now round Eildon-tree, storm. Moves to wild strains of elfin minstrelsy:

Stout was the ship, from Benin's palmy shore On glancing step appears the fairy queen;

That first the freight of barter'd captives bore: The printed grass beneath springs soft and Bedimni'd with blood, the sun with shrinkgreen;

ing beams While hand in hand she leads the frolic round, Beheld her bounding o'er the ocean-streams; The dinning tabor shakes the charmed But, ere the moon her silver horns had rear'd, ground;

Amid the crew the speckled plague appear'd. Oz, graceful mounted on her palfrey gray; Faint and despairing on their watery bier, h robes that glister like the sun in May,

To every friendly shore the sailors steer ; With bawk and hound she leads the moon. Repell’á from port to port they sue in vain, light ranks

And track with slow unsteady sail the main. Of knights and dames to Huntley's ferng Where ne'er the bright and buoyant wave banks,

is seen Where Rymour, lang of yore the nymph To streak with wandering foam the sea.

embrac'd, The first of men unearthly lips to taste. Towers the tali mast, a lone and leafless tree ; Rash was the vow, and fatal was the hour,

Till, self-impell’d, amid the waveless sea, Which gave a mortal to a fairy's power!

Where summer breezes ne'er were heard to A lingering leave he took of sun and moon ; (Dire to the minstrel was the fairy's boon!) Nor hovering snow.birds spread the downy

sing, A sad farewell of grass and green leav'd tree,

wing. The haunts of childhood doom'd no more to

Fix'd as a rock, amid the boundless plain, see.

Theyellow steam pollutes the stagnant inain; Through winding paths that never saw thesun. Till far through night the funeral flames Where Eildon hides his roots in caverns dun,

aspire, They pass,—the hollow pavement, as they go As the red lightning smites the ghastly pyre. Rocks to remurmuring waves that boil below. Silentthey wade, where sounding torrents lave Still doom'd by fate, on weltering billows The banks, and red the tinge of every wave; roll'd, For all the blood that dyes the warrior's hand Along the deep their restless course to hold,

weeds green,


Scenting the storm, the shadowy sailors guide • Now break,' she cries, 'ye fairy charms!
The prow, with sails opposed to wind and tide. As round she sails with fond alarms,
The spectre-ship, in livid glimpsing light, • Now break, and set my true love free!
Glares baleful on the shuddering watch at

Lord Barnard is to greenwood gone,

Where fair Gil Morrice sits alone, Unblest of God and man!--Till time shall end,

And careless combs his yellow hair. Its view strange horror to the storm shall lend.

Ah ! mourn the youth, untimely slain !

The meanest of Lord Barnard's train We hardly think that our readers

The hunter's mangled head must bear. would be greatly obliged to us for more extracts of this kind, so we refer Or, change these notes of deep despair them to the volume itself. Some of For love's more soothing tender air ;

Sing how, beneath the greenwood tree, the miscellaneous verses seem better

Brown Adam's love maintain'd her truth, than any thing in the "Scenes of In- Nor would resign the exil'd youth fancy; and there is considerable

For any knight the fair could see.
sweetness and delicacy in the Ode to
Scottish Music.

And sing the Harek of pinion gray,
To southern climes who wing'd his way,

For he could speak as well as fly;
Again, sweet syren ! breathe again

Her brethren how the fair beguild, That deep, pathetic, powerful strain !

And on her Scottish lover smil'd, Whose melting tones of tender woe

As slow she rais'd her languid eye. Fall soft as evening's summer dew,

Fair was her cheek's carnation glow, That bathes the pinks and harebells blue

Like red blood on a wreath of snow; Which in the vales of Tiviot blow.

Like evening's dewy star her eye ; Such was the song that sooth'd to rest,

White as the sea-mew's downy breast, Far in the green isle of the west,

Borne on the surge's foamy crest, The Celtic warrior's parted shade :

Her graceful bosom heav'd the sigh. Such are the lonely sounds that sweep

In youth's first morn, alert and gay,
O'er the blue bosom of the deep,
Where shipwreck'd mariners are laid.

Ere rolling years had pass'd away,

Remember'd like a morning dream, Ah! sure, as Hindú legends tell,

I heard these dulcet measures float When music's tones the bosom swell, In many a liquid winding note The scenes of former life return;

Along the banks of Teviot's stream. Ere, sunk beneath the morning star,

Sweet sounds! that oft have sooth'd to rest We left our parent climes afar, Immur'd in mortal forms to mourn.

The sorrows of my guileless breast,

And charm'd away mine infant tcars : Or if, as ancient sages ween,

Fond memory shall your strains repeat, Departed spirits half unseen

Like distant echoes, doubly sweet, Can mingle with the mortal throng; That in the wild the traveller hears. 'Tis when from heart to heart we roli The deep-ton'd music of the soul,

And thus, the exil'd Scotian maid, That warbles in our Scottish song.

By fond alluring love betray'd

To visit Syria's date-crown'd shore, I hear, I hear, with awful dread,

In plaintive strains that sooth'd despair The plaintive music of the dead !

Did • Bothwell's banks that bloom so fair,' They leave the amber fields of day: And scenes of early youth, deplore. Soft as the cadence of the wave, That murmurs round the mermaid's grave,

Soft syren! whose enchanting strain They mingle in the magic lay.

Floats wildly round my raptur'd brain,

I bid your pleasing haunts adieu ! Sweet syren, breathe the powerful strain ! Yet fabling fancy oft shall lead Lochroyan's Damsel sails the main ; My footsteps to the silver Tweed, The crystal tower enchanted see!

Through scenes that I no more must view.


Lake of Geneva.

( Continued from Vol. IV. page 582.) “ If the borders of this lake are not the unrivalled grandeur that is comso beautiful as those of the Italian bined and contrasted with their beau. lakes, they are, upon the whole, much ty, and from the rich and inexhaustimore deeply interesting; both from ble world of associations that is con. Dected with and dependent upon and helpless and miserable, he either them.

lies at the mercy of those who have “ You will not expect, my dear C—, no mercy, or, in despair, plunges inthat I shall be able to write you any to the throng, and becomes as mean very sober, plodding, prose descrip- and as wicked as the rest. It must tions from such a place as this, sure have been a most painful and affecting rounded and glorified as it is by all spectacle to have seen Rousseau when that is bright and beautiful, as well his course of life brought him in conin imagination as reality; and the tact with the great world; for of all powers that it derives from these two men that ever lived he was the least distinct sources so bound and blended fitted to associate with it, and yet had together, as to make it almost impossible the least power to leave it. He was that one who is open to the influence “ infirm of purpose," and had none of of both, should be able to give its that proud strength of will which has due share to either. While I stand enabled a celebrated countryman of in the presence of these two powers, of ours to contemn and trample on, I find I can do little else but admire and then quit, with a lofty disdain, and exclaim; and now that I am a society of beings in whose passions sitting at my writing-table thinking and pursuits he found himself unable of them and of you, I'm afraid I shali to feel a sympathy, or to take a share. be able to do little more.

However we may doubt the justice of “ Here dwelt that mysterious being this disdain, or call in question his who was made up of all kinds of con- right to entertain it, we cannot but tradictions that living paradox, Rous- acknowledge that there is something Sean. A man who was formed for grand in the unhesitating expression friendship, and yet rever had or could of it. If we do not admire, we canhave a friend ; -whose soul was the not despise, still less pity it. But very birth-place and cradle of love, Rousseau—the poor, frail, feeble, Rousand yet who never loved any thing seau,--struggling in the toils and yet but a shadow or a dream ;-whose totally unable to burst them-must spirit could never taste of true hap- have been, with all his faults, an obpiness but when it was pouring itself ject of the truest and deepest commise forth into the bosom of another, and eration. There he lay-fettered and yet never once found a kindred or con- imprisoned-groaning beneath his bonfident, till it was forced at last to make dage, without patience to bear or one of all the world collectively: the strength to break it—and every strugvery worst it could have chosen; and gle fastening the chains still more this, too, at a time when the very best closely about him—till at length the it could have found would have come iron entered into his heart and brain, too late ;—the purest, the sincerest, and corroding there, drove him to desa and most eloquent worshipper of na- traction :--for such was undoubtedly. ture, and of God, and yet at times—(1 his condition at last. shrink from confessing it, and yet I

Here, however, in the presence of must confess it)

at times the meanest this beautifnl water--floating upon its and most paltry of mankind. Here bosom, or climbing the mountains be used to wander and meditate and that line its shores-here he was wise dream. Here, at least, he was pure and good, and (I must think it) hapand peaceful, if not happy. And here py, it is that I delight to think of and “ I took little notice of Geneva, the watch and accompany him. The mo- birth-place of Rousseau ; for we were ment he sets his foot within the walls not staying there, but at Secheron, of a city I am obliged to quit him; about a mile from it. I did not even for then his spirits sink, his heart inquire for the house in which he was shrinks inward to an obscure corner born; for there are no very pleasant of his breast, his earthly blood begins associations connected with his earlito ferment, - and poor, pitiful, bodily est youth. But the left bank of the self steps forth, and with its soiled and lake from Geneva seems, as it were, misty mantle, covers and conceals all to belong to him, and to the imagithings; or so totally changes their nary beings with which he has every forms and colours and sounds, that where peopled it.

And fortunately his eyes and ears can no longer do they are imaginary ones, so that we their office for him; and thus blind do not see them, or even fancy that Vol: V.


we see them, which might disturb Shall we throw back to them the con. our peculiar associations. But we tempt they cast upon us ? No: we feel that their influences are about us will return them good for evil-pity wherever we go. Their free and hap- for 'scorn-pity unmixed with any py voices,—such as they were while bitterness. We can well afford to do they are yet gay and innocent,-seem so--for we have all the delight on our blending with the song of the birds, side: unless indeed they should choose or flitting by us on the perfumed to deny that we have the faculty of breezes that inhabit these delightful knowing when we are pleased. If shores. But even these sounds are they do this, we shall be forced to less sweet and touching then when suspect that they do not know what if sorrow has tempered them into sad. is to be pleased at all." ness. Then we hear them uttering their patient but never-ceasing mur- « Yesterday was a perfectly calm murs in every little wave that ripples clear day, and I went on the lake for to the shore ;, or they come floating the first time. I merely passed across to us along the waters, as we watch to the opposite bank ; but notwiththeir unheaving bosom sleeping be- standing the scenery that I was on all neath the moonlight. When joy is sides surrounded by, the feeling that glittering in their eyes, they seem to occupied me the whole time arose from gaze upon us from the stars above; the sound of the oars dipping into the for symbols of the same eyes weeping, lake, and the dripping of the waterwe turn to the reflection of the same drops from their edges in the intervals stars in the lake below.

between each stroke. Not to waste “ It is chiefly in visiting such scenes words in multiplying comparisons, you as these that we are made to feel, in know I have heard nearly all Mozart's its fullest and deepest import, the mi- best music; much of it over and over raculous power of genius. Here are again—which indeed is the only way three imaginary beings, inhabitants of to appreciate it properly. But of all a little town at the foot of the Alps-- the sounds that ever fell upon my ear, & youth and two maidens, without the one I have just alluded to was bename or fortune with no pretensions yond comparison the most delicious to distinguish them from the rest of breathing the most pure spirit of tranthe world but their simplicity and the quil happiness. Not joy, but happistrength of their affections—who meet ness : for no two things can be more with no events to mark one day of different from each other. The chartheir life from another, but a walk in acterising spirit of the one is change a chesnut grove, a water party, or a that of the other is repetition. The kiss—yet to those who, while they were song of the nightingale is joy-the young, have read the history of these murmur of the stock-dove is happibeings in the language in which it ness.—In a few days I may perhaps was written, and supposing them to endeavour to give you some general thoroughly understand that language, idea of the scenery connected with they occupy a larger and dearer space this beautiful lake." in iheir mind and memory, than all the true history of all the real kings The lake of Geneva is of an irreand conquerors that ever lived. The gular oblong form, and is completely atmosphere of passion that genius has embosomed in the Alps, which rise alcast around them, has glorified them most immediately from its banks at all into more than living and breathing parts except the eastern extremity. forms, has sanctified the imaginary Here the mountains seem to have dimarks of their footsteps, and, what vided of themselves, and formed & was more difficult than all, has, by chasm for the purpose of admitting and through them, added a thousand

the Rhone to pass through ; which it beauties to scenes that were before al

does at this particular point, and then, most unrivalled.

spreading itself out in all directions, “Would you believe, my dear C—, forms the lake: for perhaps you are that there are persons and among not aware that the lake of Geneva is those, too, who are reckoned the wise nothing more than an accumulation of ones of the earth,—who would feel the waters of this river within an imthe greatest contempt for all this, and mense basin or reservoir formed by for the feelings which dictate it ? the surrounding mountains. The

Rhone is said to run through the lake; amphitheatre, immediately from the but this is not a correct mode of ex- water's edge. Through the centre of pression. There is no current at all, the town runs the overflow of water or a scarcely perceptible one, even in caused by the perpetual influx of the the centre of the lake. The Rhone, Rhone at the other extremity. It indeed, is perpetually rushing in at takes the form of a strong river ; and one extreinity; and this of course the water at this part is of a deep blue causes a perpetual overflow and rush- colour, and as clear as crystal, which ing out of water at the other extremi. is not the case at its entrance. Inty, which stream very properly takes deed I believe the Rhone is quite turthe name of the Rhone; but it is no bid during the whole course of its more or no less the Rhone than the progress, till it reaches this delightful lake itself is. From any elevated resting-place. Here, however, it seems point in the neighbourhood, the vista to become renovated and purified, and formed by this chasm in the moun- sets out again on its new pilgrinage, tains is extremely beautiful. The eye with increased power and with addFunders over the lovely valley of the ed beauty. Rhone, dwelling alternately upon the “ We now arrive at the northern hills that bound it on either side; and side of the lake. About half a mile at length loses itself among the dis- from Geneva is Secheron, a charming tant mountains of the Valais. We little village, with a capital and extenwill take the southern side of this sive hotel, at which it is the fashion to chasin as the point of commencement stop, rather than at Geneva. Here and reference. Nearly the whole M. de Jean will do you the favour Southern border of the lake, begin- (for it is a favour) to find room for ning at this point, is bounded by the you, provided your equipage makes a mountains of Savoy, which rise almost certain figure and appearance-and, in immediately from the water's edge, fact, during the whole of the summer and immediately behind them arise the and autumn he is compelled to make snow Alps of Savoy,“ Alps on Alps,” this distinction ; for from the situaerecting themselves higher and higher tion and conveniences of his house, it behind each other, and stretching out would always be full in the travelling interminably into the distance, and season, if it were three or four times from almost every point of view pre- as large. But if he does find room senting the most splendid, powerful, for you, his accommodotion is exceland impressive sight that can be of- lent, and his charges not at all extrafered to the eye, and, through it, to vagant. the mind of man. The effect is “ From Geneva, after passing Seheightened, and rendered absolutely cheron, Nyon, Morges, &c. along a satisfying and complete, by the perpe gradually ascending road the whole tual presence of the great lord and way, we arrive at Lausanne, which is master of them all, Mont Blanc, who situated on an eminence about half a seems to stand aloof in his unapproach- mile from the shore. Here begins the able grandeur, and to watch over his classical ground, and continues to the subject-mountains with a look of fixed eastern extremity of the lake: Lauserenity, arising from a feeling of con- sanne, Veray, Clarens, Chillon, and scious and undisputed power. As we Villeneure. If I were writing to any approach towards the western extre- one but yourself, my dear - I mity of the lake, the mountains recede should hardly dare trust myself to farther from the shore, and leave a think of these places in connexion space of rising ground, which is cov- with the associations that spring up ered by the most beautiful cultivation, at every step of them. Associations, with here and there a village or a too, that have lately been so splenmansion interspersed, which admir- didly multiplied by the Third Canto, ably harmonize with the surrounding incomparably the finest of all Byron's scenery, and prepare the eye to receive works. But with you I need not enand welcome the crowd of objects con- deavour to control my thoughts. In nected with active life which now pre- such scenes as these, they can only be sent themselves. Geneva occupies of any value when they are left to that part of the shore which forms the themselves; and in writing them to whole of the western extremity of the you, it is delightful for me to feel, lake, and rises, in the manner of an that the more pleasure the presence of

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