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There be more things to greet the heart and eyes
In Arno's dome of Art's most princely shrine,
Where Sculpture with her rainbow sister vies ;
There be more marvels yet—but not for mine ;
For I have been accustomed to entwine
My thoughts with Nature rather in the fields,
Than Art in galleries : though a work divine

Calls for my spirit's homage, yet it yields
Less than it feels, because the weapon which it wields


Is of another temper, and I roam
By Thrasimene's lake,” in the defiles
Fatal to Roman rashness, more at home ;
For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles
Come back before me, as his skill beguiles
The host between the mountains and the shore,
Where Courage falls in her despairing files,

And torrents, swollen to rivers with their gore,
Reek through the sultry plain, with legends scattered



Like to a forest felled by mountain winds ;
And such the storm of battle on this day,
And such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds
To all save carnage, that, beneath the fray,
An earthquake reeled unheededly away!
None felt stern Nature rocking at his feet,
And yawning forth a grave for those who lay

Upon their bucklers for a winding sheet,
Such is the absorbing hate when warring nations meet !


The Earth to them was as a rolling bark
Which bore them to Eternity ; they saw

1 Arno's dome of art.] The Pitti, the Palace Museum of Flo


2 Thrasimene.] Now the Lago di Perugia in Etruria, where Hannibal defeated the Romans under Flarninius, B.C. 217. This is one of the battles in which an earthquake is reported to have occurred with the results described below,

The Ocean round, but had no time to mark
The motions of their vessel ; Nature's law
In them suspended, recked not of the awe
Which reigns when mountains tremble, and the birds
Plunge in the clouds for refuge, and withdraw

From their down-toppling nests ; and bellowing herds Stumble o'er heaving plains, and man's dread hath no



Far other scene is Thrasimene now: Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain Rent by no ravage save the gentle plough ; Her aged trees rise thick as once the slain Lay where their roots are ; but a brook hath ta’enA little rill of scanty stream and bedA name of blood from that day's sanguine rain; And Sanguinetto? tells ye where the dead Made the earth wet, and turned the unwilling waters red.


But thou, Clitumnus ! ? in thy sweetest wave
Of the most living crystal that was e'er
The haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave
Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost rear
Thy grassy banks whereon the milk-white steer
Grazes ; the purest god of gentle waters !
And most serene of aspect, and most clear ;

Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters-
A mirror and a bath for Beauty's youngest daughters ! 3



And on thy happy shore a Temple still,
Of small and delicate proportion, keeps,
Upon a mild declivity of hill,
Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweeps

1 Sanguinetto.] The river of blood, from Latin sanguis.

2 Clitumnus.] A river of Umbria, famed for the white fleeces of the flocks that fed on its banks.

3 Daughters.] Notice the unusual prolongation of the Alexandrine line.

4 Temple.] Of the river god Clitumnus, the genius of the place.

Thy current's calmness ; oft from out it leaps
The finny darter with the glittering scales,
Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps ;

While, chance, some scattered water-lily sails
Down where the shallower wave still tells its bubbling



Pass not unblest the Genius of the place !
If through the air a zephyr more serene
Win to the brow, 'tis his ; and if ye trace
Along his margin a more eloquent green,
If on the heart the freshness of the scene
Sprinkle its coolness, and from the dry dust
Of weary life a moment lave it clean

With Nature's baptism—'tis to him ye must
Pay orisons for this suspension of disgust.


The roar of waters !2—from the headlong height
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice;
The fall of waters ! rapid as the light
The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ;
The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss,
And boil in endless torture : while the sweat
Of their great agony, wrung out from this

Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet
That gird the

gulf around, in pitiless horror set,


And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald :-how profound The gulf ! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent

Orisons.] Morning prayer. Compare for French suffix malison, benison, and Sir Walter Scott's warison.

2 Roar of waters.] The falls of Terni on the Velino.

3 Phlegethon.] The river of fire, a river of Hell ; from Greek root φλέγ-ω.


To the broad column which rolls on, and shows
More like the fountain of an infant sea
Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes
Of a new world, than only thus to be
Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly,
With many windings, through the vale :-Look back !
Lo! where it comes like an eternity,

As if to sweep down all things in its track,
Charming the eye with dread,- -a matchless cataract,


Horribly beautiful! but on the verge,
From side to side, beneath the glittering mom,
An Iris 1 sits, amidst the infernal surge,
Like hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn
Its steady dyes, while all around is torn
By the distracted waters, bears serene
Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn :

Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene,
Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.


Once more upon the woody Apennine,
The infant Alps, which-had I not before
Gazed on their mightier parents, where the pine
Sits on more shaggy summits, and where roar
The thundering lauwine-might be worshipped more ;
But I have seen the soaring Jungfrau ? rear
Her neyer-trodden snow, and seen the hoar

Glaciers of bleak Mont Blanc 3 both far and near,
And in Chimari 4 heard the thunder-hills of fear,


Th’ Acroceraunian mountains of old name ;
And on Parnassus seen the eagles fly

1 Iris.] The rainbow ; the refraction by the falling waters.

2 Jungfrau.] Between Berne and Valais, 13,600 ft. (See • Manfred' of Byron.)

3 Mont Blanc.] In Savoy, height 15,744 ft. 4 Chim See above. • Acroceraunian.] North of Epirus : 'the heights of thuyder.'

Like spirits of the spot, as 'twere for fame,
For still they soared unutterably high :
I've looked on Idal with a Trojan's eye ;
Athos,? Olympus, Ætna, 4 Atlas, made
These hills seem things of lesser dignity,

All, save the lone Soracte's height, displayed
Not now in snow, which asks the lyric Roman's aid


For our remembrance, and from out the plain
Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break,
And on the curl hangs pausing : not in vain
May he, who will, his recollections rake,
And quote in classic raptures, and awake
The hills with Latian echoes ; I abhorred
Too much, to conquer for the poet's sake,

The drilled dull lesson, forced down word by word
In my repugnant youth, with pleasure to record

Aught that recalls the daily drug which turned
My sickening memory ; and, though Time hath taught
My mind to meditate what then it learned,
Yet such the fixed inveteracy wrought
By the impatience of my early thought,
That, with the freshness wearing out before
My mind could relish what it might have sought

If free to choose, I cannot now restore
Its health ; but what it then detested, still abhor.

LXXVII Then farewell, Horace ;8 whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine ; it is a curse 1 Ida.] In the Troad. 2 Athos.] See above. 3 Olympus.] North of Thessaly, 'the abode of the gods.' 4 Ætna.] In Sicily. 5 Atlas.] South of Morocco, but by some supposed to be Teneriffe.

6 Soracte.] In Etruria, 24 miles from Rome. Alluded to by Horace, 'the Tyric Roman, as covered with snow (i. 9): “Vides ut alta stet nive candidum, Soracte.'

Drilled dull lesson.] His experiences at Harrow.

Horace.] Moralist,' in his . Epistles ;' as Bard,' prescribes his art' in the Ars Poetica;' .Satirist'alludes to his • Satires. “The great little poet Horace'-'D. J.' xiv. 77.


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