The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume Ii Part 24

[Footnote 159: Mediterranean.]

[Footnote 160: See, in Josephus, the account of Pedanius.]

[Footnote 161: This was not an uncommon circ.u.mstance during the famine and this most terrible siege. See Josephus.]

[Footnote 162: Jews crucified, by order of t.i.tus, without the walls.]

[Footnote 163: Adommin, the supposed scene of the wounded traveller in the Gospel.]

[Footnote 164: Flowers of Carmel, growing wildly.]

[Footnote 165: The highest point of the island.]

[Footnote 166: It should be remembered, that Domitian was murdered on the 18th of October; this could not have been known at Patmos before the beginning of November.]

[Footnote 167: Applied, generally, to the conquests of Trajan.]

[Footnote 168: Allusive, as generally conceived, to the Emperor Severus.]

[Footnote 169: "To kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth" (Rev. vi. 8).]

[Footnote 170: Rev. iv.]

[Footnote 171: Rev. vii.]

[Footnote 172: I must refer to the commentators in general for an ill.u.s.tration of these striking pa.s.sages.]

[Footnote 173: The ensign of military command in the Roman legions.]

[Footnote 174: This seems no improbable cause.]

[Footnote 175: Rev. xvi.]

[Footnote 176: Rev. xix.]

[Footnote 177: /* [Greek: Elike ge men andres Achaioi Ein ali tekmairontai, ina chre neas aginein] (_Aratus_). */]

[Footnote 178: Samuel.]

[Footnote 179: The dawn of knowledge and the Reformation; ignorance only being the parent of superst.i.tion.]

[Footnote 180: The cla.s.sical reader will remember the beautiful tragedy of "Ion" in Euripides, from whom were named the Ionian islands.]

[Footnote 181: A beautiful image from Ovid.]

[Footnote 182: The Island of Roses.]

[Footnote 183: See that beautiful chapter in the Wisdom of Solomon.]

[Footnote 184: A broken column on the sh.o.r.e is spoken of by early writers, supposed to have been a relic of the earliest ages.]

[Footnote 185: See the 45th chapter of Isaiah.]

[Footnote 186: The cla.s.sical reader will remember the farewell of Philoctates to his solitary cave in Lemnos.]

[Footnote 187: He published, it is true, one edict against the increase of the Jews and Christians in the empire.]

THE

SORROWS OF SWITZERLAND.

THE SORROWS OF SWITZERLAND.[188]

PART FIRST.

Why art thou come, man of despair and blood!

To these green vales and streams, o'erhung with wood; These hills, where, far from life's discordant throng, The lonely goat-maid chaunts her matin song; This sylvan glen, where age in peace reclines, Soothed by the whisper of his native pines; Where, in the twilight of his closing days, Upon the glimmering lake he loves to gaze; And, like his life, sees on the shadowy flood, The still, sweet eve descending! Man of blood, 10 Break not his holy musings! Innocence And peace these vales inhabit. Hie thee hence To the waste wilderness, the mournful main, To caves where silence and deep stillness reign, Where G.o.d's eye only can the gloom pervade; And shroud thy visage in their dreariest shade!

Or, if these scenes, so beauteous, may impart A momentary softness to thine heart, Let nature plead, plead for a guiltless land, Ere yet thou lift'st the desolating brand; 20 Ere yet thou bidst the peaceful echoes swell 21 With havoc's shouts and many a mingled yell!

Pause yet a moment! By the beard Of him whose eyes to heaven are reared; By her who frantic lifts her helpless hand; By those poor little ones, that speechless stand; If thou hast nature in thee, oh relent, Nor crush the lowly shed of virtue and content!

No golden shrines can tempt thy plunder here, No jealous castles their dark turrets rear. 30 Peeping at dawn among the mountain vines, The village pastor's simple mansion s.h.i.+nes Beneath the tower, the music of whose bells Soft o'er the azure lake each Sabbath swells.

No lighted halls that blaze till morn reply To sounds of proud, voluptuous revelry; But one sweet pipe, by lingering lover played, Cheers the dim valley as the day-tints fade; Whilst, 'mid the rocks, the torrents, and the trees, Her little world, with pride, affection sees. 40 Survey the prospect well. Soldier! dost thou (Thy blood-red plumage waving o'er thy brow) Bid the poor villagers, who in the shed Of their forefathers eat their virtuous bread, To hard oppression bend the prostrate knee, Or learn benevolence and love from thee!

And dost thou talk of freedom! Freedom here Lifted with death-denouncing frown her spear; Here joining her loud voice's solemn call To the deep thunders of the waterfall, 50 She hailed her chosen home: these dark woods rang As her bold war-song on the rocks she sang.

At once a thousand banners to the air Streaming, a thousand falchions brandished bare, Proclaimed her sons' dread homage: We will die 55 Or live thy children, holiest Liberty!

Oh think of this! Alas! the voice is vain; Poor injured land, thy brave, thy blameless train, Thy lovely landscapes, bursting bright around, Thy gleam that echoed every cheering sound, 60 Thy rocks that gleamed with many a high-hung cot, And Freedom's holy name, avail thee not!

Then rise, insulted country! in despair Lift thy brave arm so terrible, and swear, Swear thou wilt never sheathe the avenging steel Till thou hast made the fell invader feel How vain the terrors of his glittering crest, How warm the flame that fires a patriot's breast!

How nerved their arm, opposed to tenfold might, 69 Who for the dearest hopes, their homes, their offspring fight!

And, hark! even now, methought stern Freedom called, From the wild sh.o.r.es of rocky Underwald!

Rush like the mountain avalanche on those Who, foes to you, my sons, are Virtue's foes!

Lo, where the legions of insulting France Already on your ravaged plains advance; See your pale daughters, they for mercy plead; Behold your white-haired sires, they sink, they bleed!

Oh! yet your patriot energies unite To quell the insolent oppressor's might! 80 Behold the scene where your forefathers broke And sternly trampled on the Austrian yoke!

Behold the spot where the undaunted band First met, and, clasping each his brother's hand, Bade the Almighty hear their solemn vow, That never should their injured country bow, A slave! then lifted in the midnight air Their spears, whilst the dun rocks echoed--We swear!

Think that the dead behold you! He whose bow 89 Laid the grim tyrant of these valleys low, On yonder eminence yet seems to stand; To you he dimly wares his awful hand: Go forth, my sons, in each bold bosom swell The injured spirit of another Tell!

And rush, like yon huge avalanche, on those Who, foes to you, are Freedom's, Virtue's foes!

So Freedom spake: she stood august and high; Like a pale meteor shone her troubled eye; She smote her s.h.i.+eld, and, with indignant look, More awful her uplifted war-spear shook. 100 From many a wild and woodland solitude, O'erhung with snowy-silvered mountains rude; From gla.s.sy lakes, or where the brawling brook Wells, sparkling, through some beech-embowered nook; From scattered chalets, decked with mantling vines, Above whose blue smoke wave the impending pines; From many a covert green, or gleaming rock, The bold defenders of their country flock!

Upon a cliff, that at gray morning throws Its shadow o'er the deep clear lake's repose, 110 Their gallant leader stands. Children, he cries, And one sad tear-drop gathers in his eyes, Their arms prevail! Helvetia mourns in vain!

Bound by the ruthless victor's galling chain, We only 'mid these rocky ramparts find Brief shelter from the vultures of mankind; Hither they speed their desolating sway, They flap their b.l.o.o.d.y pinions o'er their prey; But we have hearts, my brethren, and we know What to our country and our G.o.d we owe; 120 And we have arms, arms that may make them rue (Though rude our ramparts, our defenders few), The hour when they a.s.sailed this last retreat. 123 Feel we our hearts beat high, our pulses beat?

Death calls us, yet, oh, lowly let us bend, And pray to Him who is the poor man's friend, That he would guard our orphans when we bleed, And s.h.i.+eld them in the bitter hour of need!

Now, soldier, let thy huge artillery roar, Thy marshalled columns flash along the sh.o.r.e, 130 Thy armed transports with long shadow ride Terrific o'er the lake's once tranquil tide, And thy loud trumpets bray, as in disdain Of the poor tenants of the snowy plain.

They fear thee not, they are oppression's foes; Unscared, thy march of carnage they oppose; Though their fallen brethren have in vain withstood; Though yet thy sword be red with their best blood; Thy sword, thy steeds, thy legions, they defy, And death is couched within their flas.h.i.+ng eye! 140 Age has new energies; in traces weak An angry hectic rises on his cheek; And as his time-touched features kindling glow, Lead me, he cries, yet lead me to the foe!

Stern manhood o'er his boy low murmuring bends, Then, as his deadly weapon he extends, Proudly exclaims, Freedom or death, my son!

And thou, O G.o.d of justice, lead us on!

Hark! with one shout they rush into the fight, The pale foe shrinks before their gathering might! 150 Fragments of rocks in wild despair they wield, And helms and s.h.i.+vered swords bestrew the field.