ODE.

To orisons, the midnight bell

Had toll’d each silent inmate from his cell;

The hour was come to muse or pray,

Or work mysterious rites that shun the day:

My steps some whis’pring influence led,

Up to yon pine-clad mountain’s gloomy head:

Hollow and deep the gust did blow,

And torrents dash’d into the vales below.

At length the toilsome height attain’d,

Quick fled the moon, and sudden stillness reign’d.

As fearful turn’d my searching eye,

Glanc’d near a shadowy form, and fleeted by;

Anon, before me full it stood:

A saintly figure, pale, in pensive mood.

Damp horror thrill’d me till he spoke,

And accents faint the charm bound silence broke:

“Long, trav’ller! ere this region near,

Say, did not whisp’rings strange arrest thine ear?

My summons ’twas to bid thee come,

Where sole the friend of Nature loves to roam.

Ages long past, this drear abode

To solitude I sanctified, and God:

’Twas here, by love of Wisdom brought,

Her truest lore, Self-knowledge, first I sought;

Devoted here my worldly wealth,

To win my chosen sons immortal health.

Midst these dun woods, and mountains steep,

Midst the wild horrors of yon desert deep,

Midst yawning caverns, wat’ry dells,

Midst long, sequestered aisles, and peaceful cells,

No passions fell distract the mind,

To Nature, Silence, and Herself consign’d.

In these still mansions who shall bide,

’Tis mine, with Heaven’s appointment, to decide;

But, hither, I invite not all:

Some want the will to come, and more the call;

But all, mark well my parting voice!

Led, or by chance, necessity, or choice

(Ah! with our Genius dread to sport),

Sage lessons here may learn of high import.

Know! Silence is the nurse of Truth;

Know! Temperance long retards the flight of Youth

Learn here, how penitence and pray’r

Man’s fallen race for happier worlds prepare;

Learn mild demeanour, void of art,

And bear, amidst the world, the hermit’s heart;

Fix, trav’ller! deep this heaven-taught lore:

Know Bruno brings it, and returns no more.”

(Half sighed, half smiled his long farewell),

He turn’d, and vanish’d in the bright’ning dell.

My imagination was too much disturbed, and my spirits far too active, to

allow me any rest for some time, and I had not long been quieted by

sleep, when I was suddenly awakened by a furious blast, that drove open

my casement, and let in the roar of the tempest, for the night was

troubled. In the intervals of the storm, in those moments when the winds

seemed to pause, the faint sounds of the choir stole upon my ear; but

were swallowed up the next instant by the redoubled fury of the gust,

which was still increased by the roar of the waters.

I started from my bed, closed the casement, and composed myself as well

as I was able; but no sooner had the sunbeams entered my window, than I

arose, and gladly leaving my cell, hastened to the same knoll where I had

stood the night before. The storm was dissipated, and the pure morning

air delightfully refreshing; every tree, every shrub, glistened with dew.

A gentle wind breathed upon the woods, and waved the fir-trees on the

cliffs, which, free from clouds, rose distinctly into the clear blue sky.

I strayed from the knoll into the valley between the steeps of wood and

the turrets of the convent, and passed the different buildings, destined

for the manufacture of the articles necessary to the fathers; for nothing

is worn or used within this inclosure which comes from the profane world.

Traversing the meadows and a succession of little dells, where I was so

lately bewildered, I came to a bridge thrown over the torrent, which I

crossed; and here followed a slight path that brought me to an eminence,

covered with a hanging wood of beach-trees feathered to the ground, from

whence I looked down the narrow pass towards Grenoble. Perceiving a

smoke to arise from the groves which nodded over the eminence, I climbed

up a rocky steep, and, after struggling through a thicket of shrubs,

entered a smooth, sloping lawn, framed in by woody precipices; at one

extremity of which I discovered the cottage, whose smoke had directed me

to this sequestered spot; and, at the other, a numerous group of cattle,

lying under the shade of some beech-trees, whilst several friars, with

long beards and russet garments, were employed in milking them.

The luxuriant foliage of the woods, clinging round the steeps that

skirted the lawn; its gay, sunny exposition; the groups of sleek, dappled

cows, and the odd employment of the friars, so little consonant with

their venerable beards, formed a picturesque and certainly very singular

spectacle. I, who had been accustomed to behold “milk-maids singing

blithe,” and tripping lightly along with their pails, was not a little

surprised at the silent gravity with which these figures shifted their

trivets from cow to cow; and it was curious to see with what adroitness

they performed their functions, managing their long beards with a

facility and cleanliness equally admirable.

I watched all their movements for some time, concealed by the trees,

before I made myself visible; but no sooner did I appear on the lawn,

than one of the friars quitted his trivet, very methodically set down his

pail, and coming towards me with an open, smiling countenance, desired me

to refresh myself with some bread and milk. A second, observing what was

going forward, was resolved not to be exceeded in an hospitable act, and,

quitting his pail too, hastened into the woods whence he returned in a

few minutes with some strawberries, very neatly enveloped in fresh

leaves. These hospitable, milking fathers, next invited me to the

cottage, whither I declined going, as I preferred the shade of the

beeches; so, throwing myself on the dry aromatic herbage, I enjoyed the

pastoral character of the scene with all possible glee.

Not a cloud darkened the heavens; every object smiled; innumerable gaudy

flies glanced in the sunbeams that played in a clear spring by the

cottage; I saw with pleasure the sultry glow of the distant cliffs and

forests, whilst indolently reclined in the shade, listening to the summer

hum; one hour passed after another neglected away, during my repose in

this most delightful of valleys. The cattle were all slunk into the

recesses of the wood, and were drinking at the streams which flow along

their shades, before I could prevail on myself to quit the turf and the

beech trees. Never shall I cease regretting the peaceful moments I spent

in Valombré, as never perhaps, were I even to return to it, may so many

circumstances unite to render it pleasing.

When I returned unwillingly to the convent, the only topic on which I

could converse was the charms of Valombré; but notwithstanding the

indifference with which I now regarded the prospects that surrounded the

monastery, I could not disdain an offer made by one of the friars, of

conducting me to the summit of the highest peak in the desert.

Pretty late in the afternoon I set out with my guide, and, following his

steps through many forests of pine, and wild apertures among them,

strewed with fragments, arrived at a chapel, built on a mossy rock, and

dedicated to St. Bruno.

Having once more drunk of the spring that issues from the rock on which

this edifice is raised, I moved forward, keeping my eyes fixed on a lofty

green mountain, whence rises a vast cliff, spiring up to a surprising

elevation; and which (owing to the sun’s reflection on a transparent mist

hovering around it) was tinged with a pale visionary light. This object

was the goal to which I aspired; and redoubling my activity, I made the

best of my way over rude ledges of rocks, and crumbled fragments of the

mountain interspersed with firs, till I came to the green steeps I had

surveyed at a distance.

These I ascended with some difficulty, and, leaving a few scattered

beech-trees behind, in full leaf, shortly bid adieu to summer, and

entered the regions of spring; for, as I approached that part of the

mountain next the summit, the trees, which I found there rooted in the

crevices, were but just beginning to unfold their leaves, and every spot

of the greensward was covered with cowslips and violets.

After taking a few moments’ repose, my guide prepared to clamber amongst

the rocks, and I followed him with as much alertness as I was able, till

laying hold of the trunk of a withered pine, we sprang upon a small level

space, where I seated myself, and beheld far beneath me the vast desert

and dreary solitudes, amongst which appeared, thinly scattered, the green

meadows and hanging lawns. The eye next overlooking the barrier of

mountains, ranged through immense tracts of distant countries; the plains

where Lyons is situated; the woodlands and lakes of Savoy; amongst which

that of Bourget was near enough to discover its beauties, all glowing

with the warm haze of the setting sun.

My situation was too dizzy to allow a long survey; so turning my eyes

from the terrific precipice, I gladly beheld an opening in the rocks,

through which we passed into a little irregular glen of the smoothest

greensward, closed in on one side by the great peak, and on the others by

a ridge of sharp pinnacles, which crown the range of white cliffs I had

so much admired the night before, when brightened by the moon.

The singular situation of this romantic spot invited me to remain in it

till the sun was about to sink on the horizon: during which time I

visited every little cave delved in the ridges of rock, and gathered

large sprigs of the mezereon and rhododendron in full bloom, which, with

a surprising variety of other plants, carpeted this lovely glen. A

luxuriant vegetation,

“That on the green turf suck’d the honey’d showers,

And purpled all the ground with vernal flow’rs.”

My guide, perceiving I was ready to mount still higher, told me it would

be in vain, as the beds of snow that lie eternally in some fissures of

the mountain, must necessarily impede my progress; but, finding I was

very unwilling to abandon the enterprise, he showed me a few notches in

the peak, by which we might ascend, though not without danger. This

prospect rather abated my courage, and the wind rising, drove several

thick clouds round the bottom of the peak, which increasing every minute,

shortly screened the green mountain and all the forest from our sight. A

sea of vapours soon undulated beneath my feet, and lightning began to

flash from a dark angry cloud, that hung over the valleys, and deluged

them with storms, whilst I was securely standing under the clear expanse

of ether.

But the hour did not admit of my remaining long in this proud station; so

descending, I was soon obliged to pass through the vapours, and,

carefully following my guide (for a false step might have caused my

destruction), wound amongst the declivities, till we left the peak

behind, and just as we reached the green mountain, which was moistened

with the late storm, the clouds fleeted and the evening recovered its

serenity.

Leaving the chapel of St. Bruno on the right, we entered the woods, and

soon emerged from them into a large pasture, under the grand amphitheatre

of mountains, having a gentle ascent before us, beyond which appeared the

neat blue roofs and glittering spires of the convent, where we arrived as

the moon was beginning to assume her empire.

I need not say I rested well after the interesting fatigues of the day.

The next morning, early, I quitted my kind hosts with great reluctance.

The Coadjutor and two other fathers accompanied me to the outward gate,

and there within the solemn circle of the desert bestowed on me their

benediction.

It seemed indeed to come from their hearts, nor would they leave me till

I was a hundred paces from the convent; and then, laying their hands on

their breasts, declared that if ever I was disgusted with the world, here

was an asylum.

I was in a melancholy mood when I traced back all the windings of my

road, and when I found myself beyond the last gate, in the midst of the

wide world again, it increased.

We returned to Les Echelles; from thence to Chamberry, and, instead of

going through Aix, passed by Amecy; but nothing in all the route engaged

my attention, nor had I any pleasing sensations till I beheld the glassy

lake of Geneva, and its lovely environs.

I rejoiced then because I knew of a retirement on its banks where I could

sit and think of Valombré.