]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HO: Wordsworth's spelling is retained.--ED.]
[Footnote HP: See _The Solitary Reaper_ (vol. ii. p. 398).--ED.]
[Footnote HQ: See _Descriptive Sketches_ (vol. i. p. 59).--ED.]
XV
AFTER-THOUGHT
Oh Life! without thy chequered scene
Of right and wrong, of weal and woe,
Success and failure, could a ground
For magnanimity be found;
For faith, 'mid ruin'd hopes, serene? 5
Or whence could virtue flow?
Pain entered through a ghastly breach--
Nor while sin lasts must effort cease;
Heaven upon earth's an empty boast;
But, for the bowers of Eden lost, 10
Mercy has placed within our reach
A portion of God's peace.
The first stanza of this _After-Thought_ was first published in the
edition of 1832, as the beginning of the poem _Composed in one of the
Catholic Cantons_, and the second stanza in the edition of 1837 when the
_After-Thought_ first appeared.--ED.
XVI
SCENE ON THE LAKE OF BRIENTZ
"What know we of the Blest above
But that they sing and that they love?"[HR]
Yet, if they ever did inspire
A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir,
Now, where those harvest Damsels float 5
Home-ward in their rugged Boat,
(While all the ruffling winds are fled--
Each slumbering on some mountain's head)
Now, surely, hath that gracious aid
Been felt, that influence is displayed. 10
Pupils of Heaven, in order stand
The rustic Maidens, every hand
Upon a Sister's shoulder laid,--
To chant, as glides the boat along,
A simple, but a touching, song; 15
To chant, as Angels do above,
The melodies of Peace in love!
The only reference to a "scene on the lake of Brientz" in Mrs.
Wordsworth's Journal which could have given rise to the preceding poem
is the following:--"William's desires extended to a promontory, whence
he hoped to see the termination of the lake, and thither he is gone to
look out for the Boat, our friends being upon the water. I am left to
rest under the shade of some beeches. A fine walk we have had; bold
immensely high limestone rocks above my head, grey hoary steeps,
magnificent walnut trees, the favourite of the country; Swiss figures
gliding among the trees, with their deep bright baskets on their backs;
pines climbing up to the sky, fringing the rocks; scarlet barberries
glittering, and tipping the pendent boughs of the beech or walnut trees
below," etc. etc.
"Wednesday, 9th August. Interlachen.--Our minstrel peasants passed us on
the water, no longer singing _plaintive_ ditties such as inspired the
little poem, which I shall transcribe in the following page; but with
bursts of merriment they rowed lustily away. The poet has, however,
transported the minstrels in their gentle mood from the Cottage door to
the calm Lake." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HR: Compare Edmund Waller, _Upon the Death of my Lady Rich_,
ll. 75, 76--
So all we know of what they do above
Is that they happy are, and that they love.
Also, ll. 10-12 of his song, beginning, "While I listen to thy voice"--
For all we know
Of what the Blessed do above
Is, that they sing, and that they love.
ED.
]
XVII
ENGELBERG, THE HILL OF ANGELS[504]
For gentlest uses, oft-times Nature takes
The work of Fancy from her willing hands;
And such a[505] beautiful creation makes
As renders needless spells and magic wands,
And for the boldest tale belief commands. 5
When first mine eyes beheld that famous Hill
The sacred ENGELBERG, celestial Bands,
With intermingling motions soft and still,
Hung round its top, on wings that changed their hues at will.
Clouds do not name those Visitants; they were 10
The very Angels whose authentic lays,
Sung from that heavenly ground in middle air,
Made known the spot where piety should raise
A holy Structure to the Almighty's praise.
Resplendent Apparition! if in vain 15
My ears did listen, 'twas enough to gaze;
And watch the slow departure of the train,
Whose skirts the glowing Mountain thirsted to detain.
Engelberg, the Hill of Angels, as the name implies. The Convent whose
site was pointed out, according to tradition, in this manner, is seated
at its base. The Architecture of the Building is unimpressive, but the
situation is worthy of the honour which the imagination of the
Mountaineers has conferred upon it.--W. W. 1822.
"Monday, August 14.--At sunset we reached the edge of the flat green
area, sublimely guarded; from its head rose Engelberg (whence the angels
sang), Tittlesberg,[HS] the highest of these Alps. But between these two
stood another more fantastically shaped rocky hill with a broken jagged
crest, and without snow.... All around the Vale is completely enclosed
by lofty barriers, piercing or supporting the clouds. From the eminence
whence we first had a sight of the mists curling in the glowing sun upon
the heights of Engelberg, the white convent with its own, and its lesser
attendant chapels; the pensive moving figures, in their gay attire, that
as we approached saluted us; and before we gained our harbour for the
night, the convent bell calling to vespers, seemed to summon my ears to
listen for the angels' voices from that celestial mount. All these
impressions could not but excite in us thankfulness that we had been led
to this Abyssinian Vale (as D. appropriately termed it)." (Mrs.
Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Monday, 14th August. Sarnen.--It was a little past seven o'clock when
(having passed round the neck of the hill, or promontory, as I may call
it) we perceived that the object of our delightful day's journey could
not be far distant. A stately mass of crag, a mountain composed of stone
of a soft yellow hue irregularly piled up, and between pyramid and
tower-shaped, appeared before us. It could be no other than the Hill of
_Engelberg_, the Angel's Hill, where, it is believed, the angels sang
songs of approval, while holy men laid the foundation of the abbey.
Others say that the Founders were led to _choose_ that spot because the
Rock of Engelberg was the place those happy spirits were accustomed to
haunt, and that their melodies were heard while the work was going on.
It is no wonder that such traditions are believed by some of the good
Catholics even at this day; for never was there on earth a more
beautiful pinnacle for happy spirits than the Rock of Engelberg, as we
first beheld it, gilded with the beams of the declining sun. Light
clouds, as white as snow, yet melting into the thinnest substance, and
tinged with heavenly light, were floating around and below its summit.
We exclaimed, 'There you see the wings of the Angels!'----. Our
recollections of that moment cannot be effaced; and some time afterwards
my Brother expressed his feelings in the following little Poem." (From
Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 504: 1827.
ENGELBERG. 1822.
]
[Footnote 505: 1827.
And even such ... 1822.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HS: The Titlis.--ED.]
XVIII
OUR LADY OF THE SNOW
Meek Virgin Mother, more benign
Than fairest Star, upon the height
Of thy own mountain,[HT] set to keep
Lone vigils through the hours of sleep,
What eye can look upon thy shrine 5
Untroubled at the sight?
These crowded offerings as they hang
In sign of misery relieved,
Even these, without intent of theirs,
Report of comfortless despairs, 10
Of many a deep and cureless pang
And confidence deceived.
To Thee, in this aërial cleft,
As to a common centre, tend
All sufferers that no more rely[506] 15
On mortal succour--all who sigh[507]
And pine,[508] of human hope bereft,
Nor wish for earthly friend.
And hence, O Virgin Mother mild!
Though plenteous flowers around thee blow,[HU] 20
Not only from the dreary strife
Of Winter, but the storms of life,
Thee have thy Votaries aptly styled,
OUR LADY OF THE SNOW.
Even for the Man who stops not here, 25
But down the irriguous valley hies,
Thy very name, O Lady! flings,
O'er blooming fields and gushing springs
A tender sense of shadowy fear,
And chastening sympathies![509] 30
Nor falls that intermingling shade
To summer-gladsomeness unkind:
It chastens only to requite
With gleams of fresher, purer, light;
While, o'er the flower-enamelled glade, 35
More sweetly breathes the wind.
But on!--a tempting downward way,
A verdant path before us lies;
Clear shines the glorious sun above;
Then give free course to joy and love, 40
Deeming the evil of the day
Sufficient for the wise.
"August, Saturday 19th. Top of the Rigi.--... Eastern sky rich with
golden streaks, clouds floating around in all directions _below us_:
then driving eastwards, we expecting momently to be enveloped in the
condensing mist, but the breezes again and again took it away, through
the channel between the Rigi and the opposite mountains. At length the
bright sun just showed itself, lighted up the tips of the Alps with a
rosy splendour, silvered the edges of, and gave angels' wings to the
neighbouring clouds for a moment, then shrouded himself up, and the
glory faded away.... A tall cross is finely placed upon the top of this
hill.... Set forward on our descent from this remarkable place. Pleasant
green mountain track led us soon to the Parish Church of Rigiberg,
dedicated to 'Our Lady of the Snow.' It was crammed with pictures of the
Virgin and Child, in various situations, setting forth her miraculous
powers, and how they had been exercised: small convent of Capuchins
close by: easy and beautiful road down for some time; high Crosses with
pictures all the way; Chapels with frightful figures, enough to terrify
the Religious on their way to 'Our Lady of the Snow': met several
peasants before we reached the foot of the hill; Houses for them to rest
on their way: beautiful _steep thin_ waterfalls; lofty wooded and
pine-clad crags accompanied us all the way on our descent...." (From
Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Saturday, 19th August. Top of Rigi.--With hearts not less joyous than
those of the young men with whom we had just parted, we began our
journey. How delicious was the descent over the velvet turf, towards the
Chapel of Our Lady of the Snow! seen below within a narrow steep glen.
The air still fresh and cool, we gradually find ourselves enclosed by
the declivities of the glen, those rugged steeps are hung with pine
trees, narrow cataracts come down the clefts in unbroken white lines--or
over the facings of rock, in drops and stages. Side by side with the
central rivulet, we go on still descending, though with far slower pace,
and come to the Village of Rigi, and our Lady's Chapel cradled in the
slip of the dell, and, at this tranquil time, _lulled_ by the voices of
the streams. The interior of the Chapel is hung with hundreds of
offerings--staffs, crutches, etc. etc., and pictures representing
marvellous escapes, with written records of vows performed--and dangers
averted through the gracious protection of Our Lady of the Snow. Near
the Chapel is a small religious House, where a few Monks reside,
probably in attendance upon the chapel, which continues to draw together
numerous worshippers from the distant Vales on days of penitence or of
festival." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 506: 1837.
All sufferings that no longer rest 1822.
]
[Footnote 507: 1837.
... succour, all distrest 1822.
]
[Footnote 508: 1837.
That pine ... 1822.
]
[Footnote HU: Compare Coleridge's _Hymn before Sunrise, in the Vale of
Chamouni_--
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
ED.
]
[Footnote 509: 1832.
A holy Shadow soft and dear
Of chastening sympathies! 1822.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HT: Mount Righi.--W. W. 1822.]
XIX
EFFUSION,
IN PRESENCE OF THE PAINTED TOWER OF TELL, AT ALTORF
This Tower stands upon the spot where grew the Linden Tree against which
his Son is said to have been placed, when the Father's archery was put
to proof under circumstances so famous in Swiss Story.
What though the Italian pencil wrought not here,
Nor such fine skill as did the meed bestow[510]
On Marathonian valour,[HV] yet the tear
Springs forth in presence of this gaudy show,
While narrow cares their limits overflow. 5
Thrice happy, burghers, peasants, warriors old,
Infants in arms, and ye, that as ye go
Home-ward or school-ward, ape what ye behold
Heroes before your time, in frolic fancy bold!
And[511] when that calm Spectatress from on high 10
Looks down--the bright and solitary Moon,
Who never gazes but to beautify;
And snow-fed torrents, which the blaze of noon
Roused into fury, murmur a soft tune
That fosters peace, and gentleness recals; 15
_Then_ might the passing Monk receive a boon
Of saintly pleasure from these pictured walls,
While, on the warlike groups, the mellowing lustre falls.
How blest the souls who when their trials come
Yield not to terror or despondency, 20
But face like that sweet Boy their mortal doom,
Whose head the ruddy apple tops, while he
Expectant stands beneath the linden tree:
He quakes not[512] like the timid forest game,
But smiles[513]--the hesitating shaft to free; 25
Assured that Heaven its justice will proclaim,
And to his Father give its own unerring aim.[HW]
In Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal the following occurs, under date August
21.--"Altorf.... Visited a Painter, who follows his Art, and instructs
pupils in 'Tell's Tower': fine prospect from the Tower, and from the
Church beautiful almost beyond description. The towers of Altorf, the
Vale beyond, and Fluellin on the margin of the lake; the pine-clad
barriers, with here and there a fantastic marked rock, or a snowy
forehead reared above all.... I have called this place a village, but I
insult the capital of the canton of Uri by so doing: neither _is it like
a village_. A small Town, with stately houses, Fountains--Tell's
Fountain, Church, a large Painted Tower, that gives Tell's story, is
built upon the very spot where the famous Tree grew. The tree is there
represented, and under it the pretty little boy with the apple upon his
head...."
* * * * *
"Monday, 20th August. Altorf.--We found our own comfortable Inn, THE OX,
near the fountain of William Tell. The buildings here are fortunately
disposed with a pleasing irregularity. Opposite to our Inn stands the
Tower of the Arsenal, built upon the spot where grew the Linden-tree to
which Tell's son is reported to have been bound when the arrow was shot.
This Tower was spared by the fire which consumed an adjoining building,
_happily_ spared, if only for the sake of the rude paintings on its
walls. I studied them with infinite satisfaction, especially the face of
the innocent little Boy with the apple on his head. After dinner we
walked up the valley to the reputed birthplace of Tell: it is a small
village at the foot of a glen, rich, yet very wild. A rude unroofed
modern bridge crosses the boisterous river, and, beside the bridge is a
fantastic mill-race, constructed in the same rustic style--uncramped by
apprehensions of committing waste upon the woods. At the top of a steep
rising directly from the river, stands a square tower of grey stone,
partly covered with ivy, in itself rather a striking object from the
bridge, even if not pointed out for notice as being built on the site of
the dwelling where William Tell was born. Near it, upon the same
eminence, stands the white church, and a small chapel called by Tell's
name, where we again found rough paintings of his exploits, mixed with
symbols of the Roman Catholic faith. Our walk from Altorf to this
romantic spot had been stifling; along a narrow road between old stone
walls--nothing to be seen above them but the tops of fruit trees, and
the imprisoning hills. No doubt when those walls were built, the lands
belonged to the churches and monasteries. Happy were we when we came to
the glen and rushing river, and still happier when, having clomb the
eminence, we sate beside the churchyard, where kindly breezes visited
us--the warm breezes of Italy! We had here a Volunteer guide, a ragged
child, voluble with his story, trimmed up for the stranger. He could
tell the history of the Hero of Uri, and declare the import of each
memorial;--while (not neglecting the saints) he proudly pointed out to
our notice (what indeed could not have escaped it) a gigantic daubing of
the figure of St. Christopher on the wall of the church steeple. But our
smart young maiden was to introduce us to the interior of the ivied
Tower, so romantic in its situation above the roaring stream, at the
mouth of the glen, which, behind, is buried beneath overhanging woods.
We ascended to the upper rooms by a blind staircase, that might have
belonged to a turret of one of our ancient castles, which conducted us
into a gothic room, where we found neither the ghost nor the armour of
William Tell; but an artist at work with the pencil; with two or three
young men, his pupils, from Altorf--no better introduction to the favour
of one of those young men was required than that of our sprightly female
attendant. From this little academy of the arts, drawings are dispersed,
probably, to every country of the continent of Europe." (From Dorothy
Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 510: 1827.
Nor such as did the public meed bestow 1822.
]
[Footnote 511: 1837.
But . . . . . . . 1822.
]
[Footnote 512: 1832.
Not quaking . . . . . . 1822.
]
[Footnote 513: 1832.
He smiles . . . . . . . . 1822.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HV: This probably refers to the painting in the Poecile at
Athens of the battle of Marathon, referred to in Pausanius, i. 15. The
painting was perhaps by Polygnotus. Compare the _Ode_, January 1816 (p.
101)--
... arrayed
With second life the deed of Marathon
Upon Athenian walls.
ED.
]
[Footnote HW: In the edition of 1822, this _Effusion_ is printed in a
note to the second of the DESULTORY STANZAS, which conclude the series
of "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent," and with this sentence
prefixed to it: "The following stanzas were suggested by the 'TOWER of
TELL' at ALTORF, on the outside walls of which the chief exploits of the
hero are painted; it is said to stand upon the very ground where grew
the Lime Tree against which his Son was placed when the Father's archery
was put to proof under the circumstances so famous in Swiss
History."--ED.]
XX
THE TOWN OF SCHWYTZ
By antique Fancy trimmed--though lowly, bred
To dignity--in thee, O SCHWYTZ! are seen
The genuine features of the golden mean;
Equality by Prudence governèd,
Or jealous Nature ruling in her stead; 5
And, therefore, art thou blest with peace, serene
As that of the sweet fields and meadows green
In unambitious compass round thee spread.
Majestic BERNE, high on her guardian steep,
Holding a central station of command, 10
Might well be styled this noble body's HEAD,
Thou, lodged 'mid mountainous entrenchments deep,
Its HEART;[HX] and ever may the heroic Land,
Thy name, O SCHWYTZ, in happy freedom keep!
"Seewen, Sunday, 20th August.--... Wm. and I walked the direct way to
Brunnen; the rest, viz. Mr. R., T. M., and Dorothy, by way of Schwytz.
Our course lay along the brook that runs through, and I believe gives
its name to the village of Seewen; that by Schwytz forms two sides of
the triangle, and carried them considerably above us on our left. We had
a fine view all the way of the town of Schwytz, which is beautifully
situated, and looked stately under its protecting screen of mountains,
green and woody to the very top. They bend around and tower above it;
one rising higher than the rest, in the very centre of the crescent, and
directly above the church spire, has a fine effect. I was sorry to pass
without going into this important tower, which gives its name to the
delightful country of which it is the capital, and its _station_ is well
worthy of that honour. The _pastoral sylvan_ character of Switzerland is
happily exemplified here, and the mountains and lakes lead you gently
into the more solemn and awful scenes. _Our_ path led us through soft
verdant meadows, where we met and were overtaken by the peasants with
their books and nosegays in their hands...." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's
Journal.)
* * * * *
"Sunday, 20th August. Sieven.--... If Berne, with its spacious survey of
Alps, and widely-spreading Vales, and magnificent River, may be called
the _head_, this Town [Schwytz], intrenched among mountains, may be
called the _heart_ of Switzerland; to which the Canton is worthy of
giving its name. Of records or curiosities that may be shut up from
view, I know nothing; but in our half hour's sauntering through the
town, we were in a state of perpetual excitement--not that there is
anything beautiful, or even picturesque, in the Buildings, but
altogether something romantic--with gaiety....
"Our way was down the Vale, toward the Lake Waldstädte,[HY] nearly at
right angles to that by which we had come to Schwytz. We asked who were
the owners of a handsome large house, on our right hand, and were told
a Family of the name of Reding. There was no one to tell us whether it
was the Birth-place, or had been the residence of Aloys Reding; but have
since had the satisfaction of learning from my Friend, Mr. Rogers, that
it _was_, and that he had seen him there: but I will copy Mr. R.'s own
words from a letter written by him to me some years ago.[HZ]
"'When at Schwytz in 1802, we paid him a visit, and at the gate were
surprised by a little girl coming from school, who first took my hand,
and then my sister's--leading her upstairs, and supporting her by the
elbow, into a large old-fashioned room, where we found him drinking
coffee with his Family, after dinner, the clock striking two. There was
a noble simplicity in his manners, and a courtesy, a cordiality in the
reception they all gave us that sent us away enchanted.'
"Leaving the high-road, we turned along one of those pretty paths that
look as if they were only made for going to Church, and for Fetes and
Festivals. Numerous were the companies who passed, or followed us on
this path, through spacious, level, and mostly _verdant_
fields--mountains on all sides, with craggy summits. Behind us was the
Town of Schwytz at the foot of the forest steep, overtopped by the two
naked Pikes; and to our left what sublime dark clefts!" (From Dorothy
Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HX: "Nearly 500 years (says Ebel, speaking of the French
Invasion) had elapsed, when, for the first time, foreign Soldiers were
seen upon the frontiers of this small Canton, to impose upon it the laws
of their Governors."--W. W. 1822.
Compare the phraseology of Wordsworth's line with a sentence in
Dorothy's Journal, given below.--ED.]
[Footnote HY: The Lake of the Four Cantons.--D. W. The Vierwald-stätter
See.--ED.]
XXI
ON HEARING THE "RANZ DES VACHES" ON THE TOP OF THE PASS OF ST. GOTHARD
I listen--but no faculty of mine
Avails those modulations to detect,
Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
With tenderest passion; leaving him to pine
(So fame reports) and die,--his sweet-breath'd kine
Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked 6
With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject
The tale as fabulous.--Here while I recline,
Mindful how others by this simple Strain
Are moved, for me--upon this Mountain named[514] 10
Of God himself from dread pre-eminence--
Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,
Yield to the Music's touching influence;
And joys[515] of distant home my heart enchain.